← catalogue

The American Indians

by Henry Rowe Schoolcraft · English · Gutenberg #39607 · 1,352,087 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The American Indians
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The American Indians

Author: Henry Rowe Schoolcraft


        
Release date: May 4, 2012 [eBook #39607]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39607

Credits: Produced by Julia Miller, Gary Rees and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
        file was produced from scans of public domain material
        produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICAN INDIANS ***




Produced by Julia Miller, Gary Rees and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from scans of public domain material
produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)









[Illustration: _Sarony & Major Lith._ _117 Fulton St. New York._

  KING HENDRICK]




  THE

  AMERICAN INDIANS.

  THEIR HISTORY,

  CONDITION AND PROSPECTS,

  FROM

  ORIGINAL NOTES AND MANUSCRIPTS.




  BY HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT.




  TOGETHER WITH AN APPENDIX, CONTAINING THRILLING NARRATIVES, DARING
  EXPLOITS, ETC. ETC.




  NEW REVISED EDITION.

  ROCHESTER: WANZER, FOOT AND CO.

  1851.




    Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by
    GEO. H. DERBY & CO.,

    In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
    the Northern District of New York.




  JEWETT, THOMAS & CO., PRINTERS, BUFFALO.




PERSONAL REMINISCENCES.


It is now twenty-six years since I first entered the area of the
Mississippi valley, with the view of exploring its then but imperfectly
known features, geographical and geological. Twenty-two years of this
period have elapsed since I entered on the duties of an Executive Agent
for the United States Government in its higher northern latitudes among
the Indian tribes in the west. Having devoted so large a portion of my
life in an active sphere, in which the intervals of travel left me
favourable opportunities of pursuing the languages and history of this
branch of the race, it appears to be a just expectation, that, in
sitting down to give some account of this people, there should be some
preliminary remarks, to apprise the reader how and why it is, that his
attention is recalled to a topic which he may have supposed to be well
nigh exhausted. This it is proposed to do by some brief personal
reminiscences, beginning at the time above alluded to.

The year 1814 constituted a crisis, not only in our political history,
but also in our commercial, manufacturing, and industrial interests. The
treaty of Ghent, which put a period to the war with England, was a
blessing to many individuals and classes in America: but, in its
consequences, it had no small share of the effects of a curse upon that
class of citizens who were engaged in certain branches of manufactures.
It was a peculiarity of the crisis, that these persons had been
stimulated by double motives, to invest their capital and skill in the
perfecting and establishment of the manufactories referred to, by the
actual wants of the country and the high prices of the foreign articles.
No pains and no cost had been spared, by many of them, to supply this
demand; and it was another result of the times, that no sooner had they
got well established, and were in the high road of prosperity than the
peace came and plunged them headlong from the pinnacle of success. This
blow fell heavier upon some branches than others. It was most fatal to
those manufacturers who had undertaken to produce fabrics of the highest
order, or which belong to an advanced state of the manufacturing
prosperity of a nation. Be this as it may, however, it fell with
crushing force upon that branch in which I was engaged. As soon as the
American ports were opened to these fabrics, the foreign makers who
could undersell us, poured in cargo on cargo; and when the first demands
had been met, these cargoes were ordered to be sold at auction; the
prices immediately fell to the lowest point, and the men who had staked
in one enterprise their zeal, skill and money, were ruined at a blow.

Every man in such a crisis, must mentally recoil upon himself. Habits
of application, reading, and an early desire to be useful, had sustained
me at a prior period of life, through the dangers and fascinations of
jovial company. There was in this habit or temper of room-seclusion, a
pleasing resource of a conservative character, which had filled up the
intervals of my busiest hours; and when business itself came to a stand,
it had the effect to aid me in balancing and poising my mind, while I
prepared to enter a wider field, and indeed, to change my whole plan of
life. If it did not foster a spirit of right thought and
self-dependence, it, at least, gave a degree of tranquillity to the
intervals of a marked pause, and, perhaps, flattered the ability to act.

Luckily I was still young, and with good animal spirits, and a sound
constitution I resolved I would not go down so. The result of seven
years of strenuous exertions, applied with persevering diligence and
success, was cast to the winds, but it was seven years of a young man's
life, and I thought it could be repaired by time and industry. What the
east withheld, I hoped might be supplied by another quarter. I turned my
thoughts to the west, and diligently read all I could find on the
subject. The result of the war of 1812, (if this contest had brought no
golden showers on American manufacturers, as I could honestly testify in
my own case,) had opened to emigration and enterprise the great area
west of the Alleghanies. The armies sent out to battle with Indian, and
other foes, on the banks of the Wabash, the Illinois, the Detroit, the
Raisin and the Miami of the Lakes, had opened to observation attractive
scenes for settlement; and the sword was no sooner cast aside, than
emigrants seized hold of the axe and the plough. This result was worth
the cost of the whole contest, honour and glory included. The total
prostration of the moneyed system of the country, the effects of
city-lot and other land speculations, while the system was at its full
flow, and the very backward seasons of 1816 and 1817, attended with late
and early frosts, which extensively destroyed the corn crop in the
Atlantic states, all lent their aid in turning attention towards the
west and south-west, where seven new states have been peopled and
organized, within the brief period to which these reminiscences apply:
namely, Indiana, Illinois, Mississippi, Missouri, Alabama, Arkansas and
Michigan, besides the flourishing territories of Wisconsin and Iowa, and
the more slowly advancing territory of Florida. It appeared to me, that
information, geographical and other, of such a wide and varied region,
whose boundaries were but ill defined, must be interesting at such a
period; and I was not without the hope that the means of my future
advancement would be found in connexion with the share I might take in
the exploration of it. With such views I resolved to go west. This
feeling I find to be expressed on the back of an old slip of an account
of the period:

    "I will go by western fountain,
      I will wander far and wide;
    Till some sunny spot invite me,
      Till some guardian bid me bide.

    "Snow or tempest--plain the drearest
      Shall oppose a feeble bar,
    Since I go from friends the dearest,
      'Tis no matter then how far.

    "On!--'tis useless here to dally;
      On!--I can but make or mar;
    Since my fortune leads to sally,
      'Tis no matter then how far."

Of the "seven years" to which allusion has been made I had spent four in
New England a land, which is endeared to me at this distance of time, by
recollections of hospitality, virtue, and manly intelligence.

While engaged in the direction of the business above named, I had
prepared the notes and materials for my first publication, in which I
aimed to demonstrate the importance of an acquaintance with Chemistry
and Mineralogy in the preparation and fusion of numerous substances in
the mineral kingdom, which result in the different conditions of the
various glasses, enamels, &c. I had, from early youth, cultivated a
taste for mineralogy, long indeed it may be said, before I knew that
mineralogy was a science; and, as opportunities increased, had been led
by my inquiries, (which I followed with ardour but with very slight
helps,) to add to this some knowledge of elementary chemistry and
experimental philosophy, and to supply myself, from Boston and New York,
with books, apparatus, and tests. I do not know that there were any
public lectures on mineralogy, &c. at this time, say from 1810 to '16;
certainly, there were none within my reach. I gleaned from the best
sources I could, and believe that the late Professor Frederick Hall was
the only person to whom I was indebted even for occasional instructions
in these departments. He was a man strongly devoted to some of the
natural sciences, particularly mineralogy; and was erudite in the old
authors on the subject, whom he liked to quote; and I may say that I
continued to enjoy his confidence and friendship to the time of his
death, which happened in 1843. From such sources, from the diligent
reading of books, and from experiments, conducted with the advantage of
having under my charge extensive works, at various times, in the states
of New York, Vermont and New Hampshire, I drew the principles which
formed the basis of my treatise on Vitreology. With this work in hand, I
left Keene, in New Hampshire, early in the winter of 1817; and, crossing
the Connecticut river at Brattleboro', proceeded over the Green
Mountains, by the route of Bennington, to Albany, and thence returned to
my father's house in western New York. No time was lost in issuing
proposals for the work; and I had the satisfaction to find that the
portions published, and the entire plan and merits of it were warmly
approved by the pen of the late Mr. Maynard of Utica, and by several
liberal minded and intelligent persons. Before quitting New England, I
had determined to go to the Mississippi valley, and had begun to study
its geography; and I now resolved to proceed, without unnecessary delay.

Means constitute the first object of solicitude in all such
undertakings. The ebbing tide of manufacturing prosperity to which I
have referred, had left me very poor. From the fragments of former
acquisitions, for which, however, I was exclusively indebted to my own
industry, I raised a small sum of money--much smaller I think than most
men would be willing to start with, who had resolved to go so far. I
had, in truth, but sixty dollars in the world; but I possessed a very
good wardrobe, and some other personal means, such as it may be supposed
will adhere to a man who has lived in abundance for many years. I put up
a miniature collection of mineralogical specimens, to serve as a
standard of comparison in the west, a few implements for analysis, some
books which I thought it would be difficult to meet with in that region,
and some drawing materials. I had connected these things in some way
with my future success. In other respects, I had the means, as above
hinted, of making a respectable appearance. Thus prepared, I bade adieu
to my father and mother, and also to three sisters and a brother, all
younger than myself, and set forward. The winter of 1818 had opened
before I reached my brother's house at Geneva, in western New York. From
this point I determined to leave the main track, through the Genessee
county west, and to strike the head waters of the Alleghany river, so as
to descend that stream with the spring flood.

My brother drove me in his own sleigh, as far as Angelica. By the time
we reached that place, being no traveller and much fatigued with the
intricacies and roughness of the road, he was fain to give over his
undertaking, and I parted from him, sending back the sleigh from Olean,
to take him home.

The Alleghany river was locked with ice when I reached it. I had an
opportunity to cross it on foot, and to examine in the vicinity those
evidences of the coal formation which are found in masses of bituminous
shale, slaty coal and petroleum. The river began to open about the
middle of March. I left Olean in the first ark for the season, borne
onwards down the sweeping Alleghany at the top of the flood, often
through winding channels, and once in danger of being precipitated over
a mill dam, by taking the wrong channel.

On another occasion, just as we were coming to the division of the
channel, at the head of a group of islands, a tall Seneca Indian,
standing in the bow of a very long pine canoe, cried out, in a tone of
peculiar emphasis, "Keep to the right--I speak it." This direction we
followed, and were saved from another mishap. We tied the ark to the
shore at night, built a fire on the bank and cooked a supper. On
passing the Conowonga, it was at the height of its flood, and appeared
to bring in as much water as the Alleghany. We stopped at the noted
chief Cornplanter's village, and also to gratify a reminiscent
curiosity, at the mouth of French Creek, connected with Washington's
perilous adventure in visiting Fort de Boef, now Erie. At Kittaning, a
great scow ferry boat was rowed and managed by two women or girls with a
degree of muscular exertion, or rather ease, which would put to the
blush many a man east or west of the Alleghanies. The tone, air, and
masculine strength of these girl-boatmen, reminded me of nothing this
side of Rollin's description of the Amazons--save that the same
provision was not apparent for drawing the bow. Bold hills line both
banks of the river along its upper parts, and continue, indeed, at
farther intervals apart, to very near the junction of the Monongahela;
but long before this point, the stream is one of noble dimensions,
clear, broad, and strong. After a voyage of exciting and vivid interest,
I reached and landed at Pittsburgh.


NO. II.

It is Dr. Johnson, I think, who says, that we take slight occasions to
be pleased. At least, I found it so, on the present occasion; the day of
my arrival was my birth day, and it required but little stretch of
imagination to convert the scene upon which I had now entered, into a
new world. It was new to me.--I was now fairly in the great geological
valley of the west, the object of so many anticipations.

The ark, in which I had descended the Allegany, put ashore near the
point of land, which is formed by the junction of the Monongahela with
this fine clear stream. The dark and slowly moving waters of the one,
contrasted strongly with the sparkling velocity of the other. I felt a
buoyancy of spirits as I leapt ashore, and picked up some of its clean
pebbles to see what kind of geological testimony they bore to the actual
character of their parent beds in the Apalachian range.

"What shall I pay you, for my passage, from Olean," said I, to the
gentleman with whom I had descended, and at whose ark-table I had found
a ready seat with his family. "Nothing, my dear sir," he replied with a
prompt and friendly air,--"Your cheerful aid in the way, taking the oars
whenever the case required it, has more than compensated for any claims
on that score, and I only regret that you are not going further with
us."

Committing my baggage to a carman, I ascended the bank of diluvial earth
and pebbles with all eagerness, and walked to the point of land where
Fort Pitt (old Fort Du Quesne) had stood. It is near this point that the
Alleghany and Monongahela unite, and give birth to the noble Ohio. It is
something to stand at the head of such a stream. The charm of novelty is
beyond all others. I could realize, in thought, as I stood here, gazing
on the magnificent prospect of mingling waters, and their prominent and
varied shores, the idea, which is said to be embodied in the old Mingo
substantive-exclamation of O-he-o! a term, be it remembered, which the
early French interpreters at once rendered, and truly, it is believed,
by the name of _La Belle Riviere_.

So far, I said to myself, all is well,--I am now west of the great
spinal chain. All that I know of America is now fairly _east_ of
me--bright streams, warm hearts and all. I have fairly cast myself
loose on the wide waters of the west. I have already come as many
hundred miles, as there are days in the week, but I begin my travels
here. I have, as it were, taken my life in my hand. Father and mother, I
may never see more. God wot the result. I go to seek and fulfil an
unknown destiny. Come weal or woe, I shall abide the result. All the
streams run south, and I have laid in, with "time and chance" for a
journey with them. I am but as a chip on their surface--nothing more!
Whether my bones are to rest in this great valley, or west of the
Cordilleras, or the Rocky Mountains, I know not. I shall often think of
the silver Iosco, the farther I go from it. To use a native metaphor, My
foot is on the path, and the word, is onward! "The spider taketh hold
with her hands," Solomon says, "and is in king's palaces." Truly, a man
should accomplish, by diligence, as much as a spider.

Pittsburgh was, even then, a busy manufacturing town, filled with
working machinery, steam engines, hammers, furnaces, and coal smoke. I
visited Mr. O'Hara, and several other leading manufacturers. They made
glass, bar iron, nails, coarse pottery, castings, and many other
articles, which filled its shops and warehouses, and gave it a city-like
appearance. Every chimney and pipe, perpendicular or lateral, puffed out
sooty coal smoke, and it required some dexterity to keep a clean collar
half a day. I met ladies who bore this _impress_ of the city, on their
morning toilet. I took lodgings at Mrs. McCullough's, a respectable
hotel on Wood street, and visited the various manufactories, for which
the place was then, and is now celebrated. In these visits, I collected
accurate data of the cost of raw material, the place where obtained, the
expense of manufacture, and the price of the finished fabric. I had thus
a body of facts, which enabled me, at least to converse understandingly
on these topics, to give my friends in the east, suitable data, and to
compare the advantages of manufacturing here with those possessed by the
eastern and middle states. Every thing was, in the business prospects of
the west, however, at a comparatively low ebb. The prostrating effects
of the war, and of the _peace_, were alike felt. We had conquered
England, in a second contest, but were well exhausted with the effort.
The country had not recovered from the sacrifices and losses of a series
of military operations, which fell most heavily on its western
population. Its agricultural industry had been crippled. Its financial
affairs were deranged. Its local banks were broken; its manufactories
were absolutely ruined. There was little confidence in business, and
never was credit, public and private, at a lower ebb. There was however,
one thing, in which the west held out a shining prospect. It had
abundance of the finest lands in the world, and in fact, it promised a
happy home to the agricultural industry of half the world. It was
literally the land of promise, to the rest of the union, if not to
Europe.

Having seen whatever I wished in Pittsburgh, I hired a horse and
crossing the Monongahela, went up its southern banks, as high as
Williamsport. I found the country people were in the habit of calling
the city "Pitt" or "Fort Pitt," a term dating back doubtless to the time
of the surrender, or rather taking possession of Fort Du Quesne, by Gen.
Forbes. Mineral coal (bituminous) characterizes the entire region, as
far as my excursion reached. By a happy coincidence in its geological
structure, iron ores are contained in the series of the coal deposits.
On returning from this trip, night set in, very dark: on the evening I
approached the summit of the valley of the Monongahela, called Coal
Hill. The long and winding road down this steep was one mass of moving
mud, only varied in its consistence, by sloughs, sufficient to mire both
man and horse. I was compelled to let the animal choose his own path,
and could only give him aid, when the flashes of lightning lit up the
scene with a momentary brilliance, which, however, had often no other
effect but to remind me of my danger. He brought me, at length, safely
to the brink of the river, and across the ferry.

To be at the head of the Ohio river, and in the great manufacturing city
of the West, was an exciting thought, in itself. I had regarded
Pittsburgh as the alpha, in my route, and after I had made myself
familiar with its characteristics, and finding nothing to invite my
further attention, I prepared to go onward. For this purpose, I went
down to the banks of the Monongahela, one day, where the arks of that
stream usually touch, to look for a passage. I met on the beach, a young
man from Massachusetts, a Mr. Brigham,--who had come on the same errand,
and being pleased with each other, we engaged a passage together, and
getting our baggage aboard immediately, set off the same evening. To
float in an ark, down one of the loveliest rivers in the world, was, at
least, a novelty, and as all novelty gives pleasure, we went on
charmingly. There were some ten or a dozen passengers, including two
married couples. We promenaded the decks, and scanned the ever changing
scenery, at every bend, with unalloyed delight. At night we lay down
across the boat, with our feet towards the fire-place, in a line, with
very little diminution of the wardrobe we carried by day,--the married
folks, like light infantry in an army, occupying the flanks of our
nocturnal array. The only objection I found to the night's rest, arose
from the obligation, each one was tacitly under, to repair on deck, at
the hollow night-cry of "oars!" from the steersman. This was a cry which
was seldom uttered, however, except when we were in danger of being
shoved, by the current, on the head of some island, or against some
frowning "snag," so that we had a mutual interest in being punctual at
this cry. By it, sleep was to be enjoyed only in sections, sometimes
provokingly short, and our dreams of golden vallies, studded with pearls
and gems, were oddly jumbled with the actual presence of plain matter of
fact things, such as running across a tier of "old monongahela" or
getting one's fingers trod on, in scrambling on deck. We took our meals
on our laps, sitting around on boxes and barrels, and made amends for
the want of style or elegance, by cordial good feeling and a practical
exhibition of the best principles of "association." There was another
pleasing peculiarity in this mode of floating. Two or more arks were
frequently lashed together, by order of their commanders, whereby our
conversational circle was increased, and it was not a rare circumstance
to find both singers and musicians, in the moving communities for "the
west," so that those who were inclined to, might literally dance as they
went. This was certainly a social mode of conquering the wilderness, and
gives some idea of the bouyancy of American character. How different
from the sensations felt, in floating down the same stream, by the same
means, in the era of Boon,--the gloomy era of 1777, when instead of
violin, or flageolet, the crack of the Indian rifle was the only sound
to be anticipated at every new bend of the channel.

Off Wheeling the commander of our ark made fast to a larger one from the
Monongahela, which, among other acquaintances it brought, introduced me
to the late Dr. Sellman of Cincinnatti, who had been a surgeon in
Wayne's army. This opened a vista of reminiscences, which were wholly
new to me, and served to impart historical interest to the scene. Some
dozen miles below this town, we landed at the Grave Creek Flats, for the
purpose of looking at the large mound, at that place. I did not then
know that it was the largest artificial structure of this kind in the
western country. It was covered with forest trees of the native growth,
some of which were several feet in diameter, and it had indeed,
essentially the same look and character, which I found it to present,
twenty-five years afterwards, when I made a special visit to this
remarkable mausoleum to verify the character of some of its antiquarian
contents. On ascending the flat summit of the mound, I found a charming
prospect around. The summit was just 50 feet across. There was a
cup-shaped concavity, in its centre, exciting the idea that there had
been some internal sub-structure which had given way, and caused the
earth to cave in. This idea, after having been entertained for more than
half a century, was finally verified in 1838, when Mr. Abelard
Tomlinson, a grandson of the first proprietor, caused it to be opened.
They discovered two remarkable vaults, built partly of stone, and partly
of logs, as was judged from the impressions in the earth. They were
situated about seventeen feet apart, one above the other. Both contained
bones, the remains of human skeletons, along with copper bracelets,
plates of mica, sea shells, beads of wrought conch, called "ivory" by
the multitude, and some other relics, most of which were analogous to
articles of the same kind occurring in other ancient mounds in the west.
The occasion would not indeed have justified the high expectations which
had been formed, had it not been for the discovery, in one of the
vaults, of a small flat stone of an oval form, containing an
inscription in ancient characters. This inscription, which promises to
throw new light on the early history of America, has not been
decyphered. Copies of it have been sent abroad. It is thought, by the
learned at Copenhagen, to be Celtiberic. It is not, in their view,
Runic. It has, apparently, but one hieroglyphic, or symbolic figure.

A good deal of historical interest clusters about this discovery of the
inscribed stone. Tomlinson, the grandfather, settled on these flats in
1772, two years before the murder of Logan's family. Large trees, as
large as any in the forest, then covered the flats and the mound. There
stood in the depression I have mentioned, in the top of the mound, a
large beech tree, which had been visited earlier, as was shewn by
several names and dates cut on the bark. Among these, there was one of
the date of A.D. 1734. This I have seen stated under Mr. Tomlinson's
own hand. The place continued to be much visited from 1770 to 1790, as
was shewn by newer names and dates, and indeed, continues to be so
still. There was standing at the time of my first visit in 1818, on the
very summit of the mound, a large dead or decayed white oak, which was
cut down, it appears, about ten years afterwards. On counting its
cortical layers, it was ascertained to be about 500 years old. This
would denote the desertion of the mound to have happened about the
commencement of the 13th century. Granting to this, what appears quite
clear, that the inscription is of European origin, have we not evidence,
in this fact, of the continent's having been visited prior to the era of
Columbus? Visited by whom? By a people, or individuals, it may be said,
who had the use of an antique alphabet, which was much employed,
(although corrupted, varied and complicated by its spread) among the
native priesthood of the western shores and islands of the European
continent, prior to the introduction of the Roman alphabet.

The next object of antiquarian interest, in my descent, was at
Gallipolis--the site of an original French settlement on the west bank,
which is connected with a story of much interest, in the history of
western migrations. It is an elevated and eligible plain, which had
before been the site of an Indian, or aboriginal settlement. Some of the
articles found in a mound, such as plates of mica and sea shells, and
beads of the wrought conch, indicated the same remote period for this
ancient settlement, as the one at Grave Creek Flats; but I never heard
of any inscribed articles, or monuments bearing alphabetic characters.

All other interest, then known, on this subject, yielded to that which
was felt in witnessing the antique works at Marietta. Like many others
who had preceded me and many who have followed me, in my visit, I felt
while walking over these semi-military ruins, a strong wish to know, who
had erected works so different from those of the present race of
Indians, and during what phasis of the early history of the continent? A
covered way had, evidently, been constructed, from the margin of the
Muskingum to the elevated square, evincing more than the ordinary degree
of military skill exercised by the Western Indians. Yet these works
revealed one trait, which assimilates them, in character, with others,
of kindred stamp, in the west. I allude to the defence of the open
gate-way, by a minor mound; clearly denoting that the passage was to be
disputed by men, fighting hand to hand, who merely sought an advantage
in exercising manual strength, by elevation of position. The Marietta
tumuli also, agree in style with others in the Ohio valley.

A leaden plate was found near this place, a few years after this visit,
of which an account was given by Gov. Clinton, in a letter to the
American Antiquarian Society, in 1827, but the inscription upon it,
which was in Latin, but mutilated, proved that it related to the period
of the French supremacy in the Canadas. It appeared to have been
originally deposited at the mouth of the river Venango, A.D. 1749,
during the reign of Louis XV.

While at Marietta, our flotilla was increased by another ark from the
Muskingum, which brought to my acquaintance the Hon. Jesse B. Thomas, of
Illinois, to whose civilities I was afterwards indebted, on several
occasions. Thus reinforced, we proceeded on, delighted with the scenery
of every new turn in the river, and augmenting our circle of fellow
travellers, and table acquaintance, if that can be called a table
acquaintance which assembles around a rustic board. One night an
accident befell us, which threatened the entire loss of one of our
flotilla. It so happened, at the spot of our landing, that the smaller
ark, being outside, was pressed by the larger ones, so far ashore, as to
tilt the opposite side into the stream below the caulked seam. It would
have sunk, in a few minutes, but was held up, partly by its fastening to
the other boats. To add to the interest felt, it was filled with
valuable machinery. A congress of the whole travelling community
assembled on shore, some pitching pebble-stones, and some taking a
deeper interest in the fate of the boat. One or two unsuccessful efforts
had been made to bail it out, but the water flowed in faster than it
could be removed. To cut loose the rope and abandon it, seemed all that
remained. "I feel satisfied," said I, to my Massachusetts friend, "that
two men, bailing with might and main, _can_ throw out more water, in a
given time, than is let in by those seams; and if you will step in with
me, we will test it, by trying again." With a full assent and ready good
will he met this proposition. We pulled off our coats, and each taking a
pail, stepped in the water, then half-leg deep in the ark, and began to
bail away, with all force. By dint of determination we soon had the
satisfaction to see the water line lower, and catching new spirit at
this, we finally succeeded in sinking its level below the caulked seam.
The point was won. Others now stepped in to our relief. The ark and its
machinery were saved. This little incident was one of those which served
to produce pleasurable sensations, all round, and led perhaps, to some
civilities at a subsequent date, which were valuable to me. At any rate,
Mr. Thomas, who owned the ark, was so well pleased, that he ordered a
warm breakfast of toast, chickens, and coffee on shore for the whole
party. This was a welcome substitute for our ordinary breakfast of bacon
and tea on board. Such little incidents serve as new points of
encouragement to travellers: the very shores of the river looked more
delightful, after we put out, and went on our way that morning. So much
has a satisfied appetite to do with the aspect of things, both without,
as well as within doors.

The month of April had now fairly opened. The season was delightful.
Every rural sound was joyful--every sight novel, and a thousand
circumstances united to make the voyage one of deep and unmixed
interest. At this early season nothing in the vegetable kingdom gives a
more striking and pleasing character to the forest, than the frequent
occurrence of the celtis ohioensis, or Red Bud. It presents a perfect
bouquet of red, or rose-coloured petals, while there is not a leaf
exfoliated upon its branches, or in the entire forest.

No incident, further threatening the well being of our party, occurred
on the descent to Cincinnatti, where we landed in safety. But long
before we reached this city, its _outliers_, to use a geological phrase,
were encountered, in long lines and rafts of boards and pine timber,
from the sources of the Allegheny, and arks and flat-boats, from all
imaginable places, with all imaginable names, north of its latitude.
Next, steamboats lying along the gravel or clay banks, then a steam-mill
or two, puffing up its expended strength to the clouds, and finally, the
dense mass of brick and wooden buildings, jutting down in rectangular
streets--from high and exceedingly beautiful and commanding hills in the
rear. All was suited to realize high expectations. Here was a city
indeed, on the very spot from which St. Clair set out, on his ill-fated
expedition in 1791, against the hostile Indians. Twenty-five years had
served to transform the wilderness into scenes of cultivation and
elegance, realizing, with no faint outlines, the gay creations of
eastern fable.


NO. III.

Cincinnati had, at this time, (1818,) the appearance of a rapidly
growing city, which appeared to have, from some general causes, been
suddenly checked in its growth. Whole rows of unfinished brick buildings
had been left by the workmen. Banks, and the offices of corporate and
manufacturing companies, were not unfrequently found shut. Nor did it
require long looking or much inquiry to learn that it had seen more
prosperous times. A branch bank of the U.S. then recently established
there, was much and bitterly, but I know not how justly, spoken against.
But if there was not the same life and air in all departments, that
formerly existed, there was abundant evidence of the existence of
resources in the city and country, which must revive and push it onward
in its career and growth, to rank second to no city west of the
Alleghanies. This city owes its origin, I believe, to John Cleves Symes,
father-in-law of the late President Harrison, a Jerseyman by birth, who,
in planning it, took Philadelphia as his model. This has imparted a
regularity to its streets, and squares, that visitors will at once
recognize, as characteristic of its parentage. It stands on a heavy
diluvial formation of various layers of clay, loam, sand, and gravel,
disposed in two great plateaux, or first and second banks, the lowest of
which is some thirty or forty feet above the common summer level of the
Ohio. Yet this river has sometimes, but rarely, been known to surmount
this barrier and invade the lowermost streets of the city. These
diluvial beds have yielded some curious antiquarian relics, which lead
the mind farther back, for their origin, than the Indian race. The most
curious of these, if the facts are correctly reported to me, was the
discovery of a small antique-shaped iron horse-shoe, found twenty-five
feet below the surface in grading one of the streets, and the blunt end,
or stump of a tree, at another locality, at the depth of ninety-four
feet, together with marks of the cut of an axe, and an iron wedge. I
have had no means to verify these facts, but state them as credible,
from the corroborative testimony afforded them by other discoveries in
the great geological basin of the west, examined by me, which denote
human occupancy in America prior to the deposition of the last of the
unconsolidated and eocene series.

Our flotilla here broke up, and the persons who had formed its floating
community separated, each to pursue his several way, and separate views.
I made several acquaintances, whose names are recollected with pleasure.
Dr. S. invited me to dine with him, introduced me to his young partner,
Dr. Moorhead, and put me in the way of obtaining eligible private
lodgings. The three weeks I spent in this city were agreeably passed,
varied as they were, by short excursions in the vicinity, including the
Licking valley--a stream which comes in, on the Kentucky side, directly
opposite the city. I went, one day, to see an experimental structure,
built at the foot of the Walnut hills, with a very long pipe, or wooden
chamber leading up their sides, and rising above their tops. This was
constructed by an ingenious person, at the expense of the late Gen.
Lyttle, under the confident hope of his realizing a practical mechanical
power from the _rarefaction of atmospheric air_. There was confessedly
_a power_, but the difficulty was in multiplying this power, so as to
render it practically applicable to the turning of machinery. The ratio
of its increase, contended for, namely, the length of the pipe, appeared
to me to be wholly fallacious, and the result proved it so. The thing
was afterwards abandoned. There was an ancient mound here, which had not
then been opened, but which has since yielded a curious ornamented
stone, bearing a kind of arabesque figures, not dissimilar, in the style
of drawing, to some of the rude sculptured figures of Yucatan, as
recently brought to light by Mr. Stephens and Mr. Catherwood.

I received, one day, a note from one of the directors of the White Lead
Works, above the city, requesting me to visit it, and inspect in detail
the processes of the manufacture. The latter I found to be defective in
the mode of corroding the lead by the acetic acid; there was also an
unnecessary complication and amount of machinery in bringing the oxide
into the condition of a good pigment, and putting it into kegs, which
had been very onerous in its cost, and was perpetually liable to get out
of order.

It was during my stay here that I first felt the effects of the western
limestone waters in deranging the stomach and bowels, and paid for my
initiation into the habit, as all strangers must, by some days
confinement. Dr. M. brought me about, and checked the disease, without
any permanently injurious effects on my general health.

When I was ready to proceed down the river, I went to seek a passage
along the landing, but found no boat (steamboats were few and far
between in those days.) While pacing the beach, I met a man of
gentlemanly appearance, who had experienced the same disappointment, and
was desirous to go forward in his journey. He told me, that he had found
a small row boat, well built, and fitted with seats, which could be
purchased for a reasonable sum; that it would hold our baggage very
well, and he thought we could make a pleasant trip in it as far as
Louisville at the Falls, where the means of communication by steamboats
were ample. On examining the boat, and a little inquiry, I acceded to
this proposition, and I had no cause to regret it. This gentleman,
whose name I have forgotten, but which is somewhere among my papers, was
a native of the city of Nancy, but a resident of Baltimore. He was, like
the city itself I believe, Franco-German, speaking the two languages
very well, and the English with peculiarities. He had a benevolent and
honest countenance and social, agreeable manners, not too free, nor
stiffly reserved; and we performed the trip without accident, although
we had a narrow escape one day from a sawyer, one of that insidious cast
of these river pests, called in western parlance, a sleeping sawyer. It
was now the month of May; the atmosphere was mild and balmy, loaded with
the perfumes of opening vegetation; we took the oars and the helm
alternately; we had a constant succession of pretty views; we put ashore
to eat and to sleep, and the whole trip, which occupied some three or
four days at the farthest, was perfectly delightful.

We put ashore at Vevay, where the Swiss had then newly introduced the
cultivation of the vine, to see the vineyards and the mode of
cultivation. I have since witnessed this culture on the banks of the
Rhine, and found it to be very similar. The vines are closely pruned and
kept from becoming woody, and are trained to slender sticks, which, are
arranged with the order of a garden bean-bed, which at the proper
season, they much resemble. We also tasted the wine, and found it poor.

On the last day of the voyage, we took into our boat a young
physician--a Hollander, recently arrived in the country, telling him,
that by way of equivalent, we should expect him to take his turn at the
oars. He was a man of small stature--well formed, rather slovenly, yet
pretty well dressed, with blue eyes, a florid face, and very voluble. Of
all that he said, however, by far the most striking part, was his
account of his skill in curing cancer. It was clear that he was an
itinerating cancer-doctor. He said, amid other things, that he had
received an invitation to go and cure the Governor of Indiana. We now
had Indiana on our right hand, and Kentucky on our left.

These are the principal incidents of the trip. We reached our
destination in safety, and landed on the superb natural sylvan wall, or
park, which is formed by the entrance of Beargrass Creek with the Ohio,
just in front of, or a little above, Louisville. Here we sold our boat,
took separate lodgings, and parted. I found in a day or two, that my
friend from Nancy had a flourishing school for military tactics and the
sword exercise, where, at his invitation, I went to visit him. From this
man, I learned, as we descended the Ohio, that the _right_ and _left_
banks of a river, in military science, are determined by the supposed
position of a man standing at its head, and looking _downwards_.

I found in the limestone rocks which form the bed of the river between
the town and Corn Island, the cornu ammonis and some other species of
organic remains; and while I remained here, which was several weeks, I
wrote a notice for one of the papers, of a locality of manganese on
Sandy river, Ky., and others of some other objects of natural history in
the west, which I perceived, by their being copied at the eastward, were
well taken. It was my theory, that there was a general interest felt in
the Atlantic States for information from the west, and this slight
incident served to encourage me.

The steamboat canal since constructed around the falls at this place,
was then a project only spoken of, and is here alluded to for no higher
purpose than to mention, that in its actual subsequent execution, we are
informed the workmen came, at the depth of fourteen feet below the
surface of the _calcareous rock_, to a brick hearth, covered with what
appeared to be the remains of charcoal and ashes.

I took walks almost daily, on the fine promenade, shaded with lofty
trees, festooned with their native vines, along the Beargrass Creek,
which is the common place of landing for arks and boats. On one of these
occasions, there came in a large ark, which had been freighted at
Perryopolis, on the Yioughagany, some thirty miles from Pittsburgh. The
two proprietors were K. and K., Marylanders, both young men, or verging
to middle life, who had clubbed together the necessary funds, and in the
spirit of adventure, resolved on a trading voyage. There was something
in the air and manners of both, which I thought I could trust in for an
agreeable voyage, especially as they saw in me, not a rival in commerce
of any kind, but a mere observer,--a character which I found, on more
than one occasion, placed me on grounds of neutrality and advantage.
Steamboats are the worst vehicles ever invented by the ingenuity of man
to make observations on a country, always excepting the last improvement
on locomotive rail-roads. To a naturalist, especially, they are really
horrible. Not a tree or plant can be examined; not a shell, or a rock
certainly identified. Hundreds of miles are passed in a few hours; the
effect of speed is to annihilate space; town succeeds town, and object
object, with such rapidity, that there is no distinct time left for
observation or reflection; and after the voyager has reached his point
of destination, he is often seriously in doubt, what he has seen, and
what he has not seen, and is as much puzzled to put together the exact
feature of the country's geography, as if he were called to re-adjust
the broken incidents of a night's dream. I had yet another objection to
this class of boats, at the era mentioned. Their boilers and machinery
were not constructed with elaborate skill and strength; their commanders
were often intemperate, and a spirit of reckless rivalry existed, whose
results were not infrequently exhibited in exploded, sunk, or grounded
boats, and the loss of lives.

It is a regulation of law that pilots are provided for all boats,
descending the falls--a descent, by the way, which can only be made on
the Indiana side. When this officer came on board, the owners thought
best to go by land to Shippingport. I had less at stake in its safety
than they, yet felt a desire to witness this novel mode of descent; nor
did the result disappoint me. Standing on the deck, or rather flat roof
of the ark, the view was interesting and exciting. The first point at
which the mass of water breaks was the principal point of danger, as
there is here a powerful reflux, or eddy current, on the right hand,
while the main velocity of the current drives the vessel in a direction
which, if not checked by the large sweeps, would inevitably swamp it.
The object is to give this check, and shoot her into the eddy water.
This was done. The excitement ceased in a few moments, and we passed the
rest of the way with less exertion to the men, and got down the
remainder of the falls in perfect safety. All this danger to the growing
commerce of the west, is now remedied by the Louisville canal, which, by
a work of but two miles in length, which holds the relative position of
a string to the bow, connects the navigable waters above and below those
falls, and permits all river craft of the largest burden to pass.

It was about the falls of the Ohio, or a little above, that I first saw
the gay and noisy paroquet, or little parrot of the west; a gregarious
bird, whose showy green and yellow plumage makes it quite an object to
be noticed and remembered in a passage on the lower Ohio. One of these
birds, which had been wounded, was picked up out of the river, a few
miles below the falls. It was evident, from the occurrence of this
species, and other features in the natural history of the country, that
we were now making a rapid southing. The red-bud, the papaw, the
buckeye, and the cucumber tree, had all introduced themselves to notice,
among the forest species, below Pittsburgh; although they are all, I
think, actually known to extend a little north of that latitude; and we
now soon had added to the catalogue, the pecan and cypress, and the
cane, with the constant attendant of the latter, the green briar. I had
no opportunity to examine the pecan, until we reached the mouth of the
Wabash and Shawneetown, where I went on a shooting excursion with a
young Kentuckian, who gave me the first practical exhibition of bringing
down single pigeons and other small game with the rifle, by generally
striking the head or neck only. I had heard of this kind of shooting
before, and witnessed some capital still shots, but here was a
demonstration of it, in brush and brier--catching a sight as best one
could. The ball used on these occasions was about the size of a large
buckshot.

Shawneetown is a word which brings to mind one of the North American
tribes, who, between 1632 and the present time, figure as one of the
frontier actors in our history. They have, in this time, with the
ubiquity of one of their own genii, skipped over half America. They were
once, certainly dwellers on the Savannah, if not, at a still earlier
day, on the Suanee, in Florida; then fled north, a part coming down the
Kentucky river, and a part fleeing to the Delaware, and thence west.
They are now on the Konga, west of the Missouri. So much for the
association of names. History never remembers any thing which she can
possibly forget, and I found at least, one high-feeling personage here,
who did not like the manner in which I associated the modern town with
reminiscences of the savages. "Why, sir," said he, as we walked the deck
of the ark, floating down the Ohio, and getting nearer the place every
moment, "we have a bank there, and a court house; it is the seat of
justice for Gallatin county;--and a printing press is about to be
established;--it is a very thriving place, and it bids fair to remain
second to none below the Wabash." "All this, truly," I responded,
willing to reprove pride in an easy way, "is a great improvement on the
wigwam and the council-fire, and wampum coin-beads." It is sometimes
better to smile than argue, and I found it so on the present occasion. I
did not wish to tread on the toes of rising greatness, or pour upon a
love of home and locality, honorable and praise-worthy in my fellow
traveller, the chilling influence of cold historical facts. My allusions
were the mere effect of the association of ideas, resulting from names.
If the residents of Shawneetown do not like to be associated with the
native race, who would not have exchanged a good bow and arrows for all
the court houses in Christendom, they should bestow upon the place some
epithet which may sever the tie.


NO. IV.

After stopping a day or more at Shawneetown, and reconnoitering its
vicinity, I proceeded to the mouth of the Cumberland, and from thence,
after many days detention at that point waiting for a boat, to the mouth
of the Ohio. I found this to be a highly interesting section of the
river, from its great expanse and its fine water prospects. The
picturesque calcareous cliffs on the west banks, display a novel and
attractive line of river scenery. The Ohio had, from its commencement,
well sustained the propriety of its ancient appellation of the Beautiful
River; but it here assumed something more than beautiful--it was
majestic. Let it be borne in mind that this stream, in the course of
some seven or eight hundred miles flow from Pittsburg to Shawneetown,
had been swelled on the right and left hand by the Scioto, the
Muskingum, the Kentucky, the Miami, Green River, Wabash, and other
rivers of scarcely inferior size. It is still further augmented, from
the left bank, with those noble tributaries, the Cumberland and
Tennessee, which bring in the gathered drain of the middle ranges of the
Alleghanies. It is below Shawneetown, too, that the cliffs of the
Cave-in-Rock-Coast present themselves on the west shore--with their
associations of the early robber-era which has been commemorated by the
pen of fiction of Charles Brockden Brown. These cliffs are cavernous,
and assume varied forms. They rise in bold elevations, which bear the
general name of the Knobs, but which are well worthy of the name of
mountains. Distinct from the interest they have by casting their
castle-like shadows, at sunset, in the pure broad stream, they
constitute a kind of Derbyshire in their fine purple spars, and
crystalized galena and other mineralogical attractions. I was told that
a German of the name of Storch, who pretended to occult knowledge, had,
years before, led money and mineral diggers about these Knobs, and that
he was the discoverer of the fine fluates of lime found here.

One can hardly pass these broken eminences, with the knowledge that they
tally in their calcareous structure and position with the rock formation
of the Missouri state border, lying immediately west of them, without
regarding them as the apparent monuments of some ancient geological
change, which affected a very wide space of country north of their
position. A barrier of this nature, which should link the Tennessee and
Missouri coasts, at Grand Tower, would have converted into an inland
sea the principal area of the present states of Illinois, Indiana, and
Southern Ohio. The line of separation in this latitude is not great. It
constitutes the narrowest point between the opposing rock formations of
the east and west shores, so far as the latter rise through and above
the soil.

I was still in a floating Monongahela ark as we approached this coast of
cliffs. The day was one of the mildest of the month of June, and the
surface of the water was so still and calm that it presented the
appearance of a perfect mirror. Our captain ordered alongside the skiff,
which served as his jolly boat, and directed the men to land me at the
Great Cave. Its wide and yawning mouth gave expectations, however, which
were not realized. It closes rapidly as it is pursued into the rock, and
never could have afforded a safe shelter for gangs of robbers whose
haunts were known. Tradition states, on this point, that its mouth was
formerly closed and hid by trees and foliage, by which means the
unsuspecting voyagers with their upward freight were waylaid. We
overtook the slowly floating ark before it had reached Hurricane Island,
and the next land we made was at Smithfield, at the mouth of the
Cumberland. While here, several discharged Tennessee militiamen, or
volunteers from the still unfinished Indian war in the south, landed on
their way home. They were equipped after the fashion of western hunters,
with hunting shirts and rifles, and took a manifest pride in declaring
that they had fought under "old Hickory"--a term which has, since that
era, become familiar to the civilized world. I here first saw that
singular excrescence in the vegetable kingdom called cypress knees. The
point of land between the mouth of the Cumberland and Ohio, was a noted
locality of the cypress tree. This tree puts up from its roots a blunt
cone, of various size and height, which resembles a sugar loaf. It is
smooth, and without limb or foliage. An ordinary cone or knee would
measure eight inches in diameter, and thirty inches high. It would seem
like an abortive effort of the tree to put up another growth. The
paroquet was exceedingly abundant at this place, along the shores, and
in the woods. They told me that this bird rested by hooking its upper
mandible to a limb. I made several shooting excursions into the
neighbouring forests, and remember that I claimed, in addition to
smaller trophies of these daily rambles, a shrike and a hystrix.

At length a keel boat came in from the Illinois Saline, commanded by a
Captain Ensminger--an Americo-German--a bold, frank man, very
intelligent of things relating to river navigation. With him I took
passage for St. Louis, in Missouri, and we were soon under weigh, by the
force of oars, for the mouth of the Ohio. We stopped a short time at a
new hamlet on the Illinois shore, which had been laid out by some
speculators of Cincinnati, but was remarkable for nothing but its name.
It was called, by a kind of bathos in nomenclature, "America." I
observed on the shores of the river at this place, a very recent
formation of pudding-stone, or rather a local stratum of indurated
pebbles and clay, in which the cementing ingredient was the oxyde of
iron. Chalybeate waters percolated over and amongst this mass. This was
the last glimpse of consolidated matter. All below, and indeed far
above, was alluvial, or of recent origin. Nothing could exceed the
fertile character of the soil, or its rank vegetation and forest growth,
as we approached the point of junction; but it was a region subject to
periodical overflows, the eras of which were very distinctly marked by
tufts and bunches of grass, limbs, and other floating matter which had
been lodged and left in the forks and branches of trees, now fifteen or
twenty feet above our heads. It was now the first day of July, and I
felt the most intense interest as we approached and came to the point of
confluence. I had followed the Ohio, in all its sinuosities, a thousand
miles. I had spent more than three months in its beautiful and varied
valley; and I had something of the attachment of an old friend for its
noble volume, and did not well like to see it about to be lost in the
mighty Mississippi. Broad and ample as it was, however, bringing in the
whole congregated drain of the western slopes of the Alleghanies and the
table lands of the Great Lakes, the contest was soon decided. The stream
had, at that season, sunk down to its summer level, and exhibited a
transparent blue volume. The Mississippi, on the contrary, was swelled
by the melting snows of the Rocky Mountains, and was in its vernal
flood. Coming in at rather an acute angle, it does not immediately
arrest the former, but throws its waters along the Tennessee shores. It
runs with prodigious velocity. Its waters are thick, turbid, and replete
with mingled and floating masses of sand and other comminuted rock and
floating vegetation, trees, and rubbish. For miles the line of
separation between the Ohio and Mississippi waters was visible by its
colour; but long before it reaches the Iron Banks, the modern site of
Memphis--the Father of Waters, as it is poetically, not literally,
called--had prevailed, and held on its way to make new conquests of the
St. Francis, the White, the Arkansas, and other noble streams.

Our captain, although he had no lack of self-confidence, did not seem to
be in haste to grapple with this new foe, by plunging at once into the
turbid stream, but determined to try it next morning. This left me, a
good part of the day, in a position where there was not much to reward
inquiry. I fished awhile from the boat's side, but was rewarded with
nothing besides a gar, a kind of sword, or rather billed fish, which
appears to be provided with this appendage to stir up its food or prey
from a muddy bottom. Its scales and skin are nearly as hard and compact
as a shark's, and its flesh is equally valueless. It is at this point
that the town of Cairo has since been located. There were, at the period
mentioned, several arks and flat-boats lying on the higher banks, where
they had been moored in high water. These now served as dwellings, and
by cutting doors in their sides they formed rude groceries and
provision stores. Whatever else, however, was to be seen at so low and
nascent a point, the mosquito, as night came on, soon convinced us that
he was the true magnate of those dominions.

The next morning at an early hour our stout-hearted commander put his
boatmen in motion, and turned his keel into the torrent; but such was
the velocity of the water, and its opacity and thick turbidness, that I
thought we should have been precipitated down stream, and hurled against
sunken logs. Those who have ascended this stream in the modern era of
steamboats, know nothing of these difficulties. It seemed impossible to
stem the current. A new mode of navigation, to me at least, was to be
tried, and it was evidently one which the best practised and
stoutest-hearted men by no means relished. These boats are furnished
with a plank walk on each side, on which slats are nailed to give a
foothold to the men. Each man has a pole of ash wood about 16 feet long,
with a wooden knob at the head to rest against the shoulder, and a blunt
point at the other end shod with iron. Planting these upon the bottom
near shore, with their heads facing down stream, the men bend all their
force upon them, propelling the boat by their feet in the contrary
direction. This is a very laborious and slow mode of ascent, which has
now been entirely superseded on the main rivers by the use of steam.

Such is the fury and velocity of the current, that it threatens at every
freshet to tear down and burst asunder its banks, and run lawless
through the country. Often whole islands are swept away in a short time.
We had an instance of this one night, when the island against which we
were moored, began to tumble into the channel, threatening to overwhelm
us by the falling earth and the recoil of the waves, and we got away to
the main shore with much effort, for night was set in, the current
furious, and the shore to which we were going entirely unknown. To have
struck a sunken log on such a traverse, under such circumstances, must
have been fatal. We got at length upon a firm shore, where we moored and
turned in at a late hour; but a curious cause of alarm again roused us.
Some animal had made its appearance on the margin of the stream, not far
below us, which in the dimness of the night appeared to be a bear. All
who had arms, got them, and there was quite a bustle and no little
excitement among the cabin passengers. The most knowing pronounced it to
be a white bear. It produced a snorting sound resembling it. It seemed
furious. Both _white_ and _furious_ it certainly was, but after much
delay, commendable caution, and no want of the display of courage, it
turned out to be a large wounded hog, which had been shot in the snout
and head, and came to allay its fevered and festered flesh, by night, in
the waters of the Mississippi.

To stem the current along this portion of the river required almost
superhuman power. Often not more than a few miles can be made with a
hard day's exertions. We went the first day six miles, the second about
the same distance, and the third eight miles, which brought us to the
first cultivated land along a low district of the west shore, called the
Tyewapety Bottom. There were six or eight small farms at this spot; the
land rich, and said to be quite well adapted for corn, flax, hemp, and
tobacco. I observed here the papaw. The next day we ascended but three
miles and stopped, the crew being found too weak to proceed. While
moored to the bank, we were passed by several boats destined for St.
Louis, which were loaded with pine boards and plank from Olean, on the
sources of the Alleghany. They told us that sixty dollars per thousand
feet could be obtained for them.

Additional men having been hired, we went forward the next day to a
point which is called the Little Chain of Rocks, where, from sickness in
some of the hands, another halt became necessary. It is at this point
that the firm cherty clay, or diluvial soil of the Missouri shore, first
presents itself on the banks of the river. This soil is of a sterile and
mineral character. I noticed beneath the first elevated point of it,
near the river's edge, a locality of white compact earth, which is
called chalk, and is actually used as such by mechanics. On giving a
specimen of it, after my return to New York in 1819, to Mr. John
Griscom, he found it completely destitute of carbonic acid; it appears
to be a condition of alumine or nearly pure clay. Large masses of
pudding-stone, disrupted from their original position, were seen lying
along the shore at this locality, being similar in their character to
that seen on approaching the mouth of the Ohio.

We ascended the river this day ten miles, and the next five miles, which
brought us to Cape Girardeau, at the estimated distance of fifty miles
above the mouth of the Ohio. At this place I was received with attention
by one of the principal residents, who, on learning that my object was
to examine the natural history of the country, invited me to his house.
In rambling the vicinity, they showed me a somewhat extra but
dilapidated and deserted house, which had been built by one Loramee, a
Spanish trader, who has left his name on one of the branches of the
river St. Mary's of Indiana. This old fabric excited a strong interest
in my mind as I walked through its open doors and deserted rooms, by a
popular story, how true I know not, that the occupant had been both a
rapacious and cruel man, siding with the Indians in the hostilities
against our western people; and that he had, on one occasion, taken a
female captive, and with his own hands cut off her breasts.

The journey from Cape Girardeau to St. Louis occupied nineteen days, and
was fraught with scenes and incidents of interest, which I should detail
with pleasure were it compatible with my limits. Indeed, every day's
voyage along this varied and picturesque shore presented objects of
remark, which both commended themselves to my taste, and which the slow
mode of ascent gave me full means to improve. This might be said
particularly of its geological structure and its mineralogical
productions--themes which were then fresh and new, but which have lost
much of their attractions by the progress which natural science has made
in the country during six and twenty years. To these topics it is the
less necessary to revert, as they were embraced in the results of my
tour, given in my "_View of the Mines_," published in 1819.

The article improperly called pumice, which floats down the Missouri
during its floods, from the burning coal banks in the Black Hills, I
first picked up on the shore in the ascent above Cape Girardeau, and it
gave me an intimation that the waters had commenced falling. We came to,
the same night, at a well known fountain, called the Moccasin Spring, a
copious and fine spring of crystal water, which issues from an elongated
orifice in the limestone rock.

While lying at the mouth of the river Obrazo, where we were detained on
account of hands, several boats touched at the place, carrying emigrants
from Vermont and New York, whose destination was the most westerly
settlements on the Missouri. At higher points in the ascent we
encountered emigrants from Maine, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, North
Carolina, and Kentucky, which denotes the wide range of the spirit of
migration at the era. The ends of the Union seemed to be brought
together by this general movement towards the west. It was not uncommon
to find representatives from a great number of the states in these
accidental meetings; they were always of a social and highly friendly
character, and the effect of such a system of intercommunication and
residence, from districts widely separated, could not but be highly
auspicious in promoting uniformity of manners and opinions, and
assimilating customs, dress, and language. If long continued it must
destroy provincialisms, and do much to annihilate local prejudices.

Every one who has ascended this stream will recollect the isolated
cliff, standing in its waters, called Grand Tower, with the
corresponding developments of the coast on the contiguous shores, which
tell the traveller plainly enough that here is the site of some ancient
disruptive process in the physical history of the valley. The current
has an increased velocity in sweeping around this obstacle; and we
found, as the waters fell, that there were numerous eddies and strong
jets or currents along this precipitous coast, which it required extra
force to surmount. We saw one day a number of pelicans standing on a
sand bar. The wild turkey and quail were daily encountered on shore.

Our approach to St. Genevieve was preceded by a sight of one of those
characteristic features in all the early French settlements in this
quarter--the great public field extending several miles, five miles I
think, along the banks of the river. St. Genevieve itself lies about a
mile from the river, and is concealed by irregularities in the surface.
It is a highly characteristic antique French town, and reminds one
strongly of the style and manner of building of the provincial villages
and towns of the parent country, as still existing. Three miles above
this place we came to a noted point of crossing called the Little Rock
Ferry; a spot worthy of note at that time as the residence of a very
aged Frenchman, called _Le Breton_. Statements which are believed to be
true, made him 109 years old. From his own account he was at the seige
of Bergen-op-zoom, in Flanders; at the seige of Louisburg; at the
building of Fort Chartres, in Illinois; and at Braddock's defeat. After
his discharge, he discovered those extensive lead mines in Washington
county, about forty miles west of the river, which still bear his name.

The coast between St. Genevieve and Herculaneum is almost one continuous
cliff of precipitous rocks, which are broken through chiefly at the
points where rivers and streams discharge. Herculaneum itself is seated
on one of these limited areas, hemmed in by cliffs, which, in this case,
were rendered still more picturesque by their elevated shot towers. I
landed at this place about noon of my twenty-second day's ascent, and
finding it a convenient avenue to the mine district, determined to leave
my baggage at a hotel till my return from St. Louis, and pursue the rest
of the journey to that place on foot. It was at this point that I was
introduced to Mr. Austin, the elder, who warmly approved my plan of
exploring the mines, and offered every facility in his power to further
it. Mr. Austin was, he informed me at a subsequent stage of our
acquaintance, a native of Connecticut. He had gone early into Virginia
and settled at Richmond, where his eldest son was born, and afterwards
removed to Wythe county. In 1778 he went into Upper Louisiana, enduring
severe sufferings and the risk of life, in crossing the country by way
of Vincennes to St. Louis, where he was well received by the Spanish
local governor. He obtained a grant of land in the present area of
Washington county, the principal seat of the older mines. About the time
I went to Missouri, or soon after it, he resolved to visit San Antonio,
in Texas, with a view of introducing a colony of Americans into that
quarter. This plan he carried into execution, I think, in 1820, and
returned with an ample grant; but he did not live to carry its
stipulations into effect, having died suddenly after his return, at the
house of his daughter, Mrs. Bryant, at Hazel Run.

Mr. Austin was a man of great zeal and fervour of imagination, and
entered very warmly into all his plans and views, whatever they were. He
was hospitable, frank, intelligent, and it is with feelings of unmixed
pleasure, that I revert to my acquaintance with him, no less than with
his talented son, Stephen, and the excellent, benign, and lady-like Mrs.
Austin, and other members of this intelligent family.


NO. V.

Herculaneum had nothing in common with its sombre Italian prototype,
which has been dug out of dust and ashes in modern times, but its name.
Instead of buried palaces and ruins of a luxurious age of marble, bronze
and silver, most of the houses were built of squared oak logs, and had
bulky old fashioned chimneys, built outside with a kind of castelated
air, as they are seen in the old French and Dutch settlements in Canada,
and along the vallies of the Hudson and Mohawk. The arts of painting and
gilding and cornices, had not yet extended their empire here. Mr.
Austin's residence, was the only exception to this remark, I remember.
The Courts of Justice were content to hold their sessions in one of the
oaken timber buildings named; the county jail had a marvellous
resemblance to an ample smoke-house, and my kind host, Ellis, who was a
native of South Carolina, was content to serve up substantial and good
cheer in articles, not exhumed from a city buried in volcanic ashes, but
in plain fabrics of Staffordshire and Birmingham. In addition to the
host-like and agreeable resort, which travellers unexpectedly found at
his hands, in a mansion whose exterior gave no such signs, he presided
over the department of a public ferry, established at this place, across
the wild and fluctuating Mississippi; and had he kept note book, he
could have given account of many a one, from other lands, with golden
hopes of the far west, whom he had safely conducted, against the most
adverse floods, to the Missouri shore. I found a few old books at his
house, which showed that there had been readers in his family, and which
helped to while away moments, which every traveller will find on his
hands.

I have intimated that there was nothing in the way of the antique, in
Herculaneum, but its name. To this I might add, that there was no
exception, unless it be found in the impressions of objects, in the
structure of the rocks, in this quarter, denoting a prior age of
existence. I was shown an impression, in the surface of a block of
limestone, quarried here, which was thought to resemble a man's foot. It
did not appear to me to bear this similitude, but was rather to be
referred to some organic extinct forms, which are not yet well
understood.

Having passed a couple of days here, I set out early one morning, on
foot, for St. Louis, accompanied by two young men from Pennsylvania,
with whom I had become acquainted on prior parts of my route. They had
come with an adventure of merchandize from the waters of the
Yioughagany, and were desirous of seeing the (then) capitol of the
Territory. Nothing untoward occurred, until we reached and crossed the
river Merrimack, where night overtook us, and set in with intense
darkness, just as we reached the opposite shore. There was but one house
in the vicinity; and not distant more than a mile, but such was the
intensity of the darkness, owing to clouds and a gathering storm, that
we lost the road, wandered in the woods for some hours, during which the
rain commenced, and were at length directed to the house we sought, by
the faint and occasional tinkling of a cow bell.

We travelled the next morning twelve miles, to breakfast at the antique
looking village of Carondalet. The route lies over an elevated tract of
uplands, eligibly situated on the right bank of the Mississippi, in
which a growth of wild prairie grass and flowers, filled up the broad
spaces between the trees. There was no habitation visible on the
route--a standing spring under a ledge of rocks, about half way, was the
only spot where we could get a drop of water to allay our thirst--for it
was a hot August day. We encountered several deer, and from the frequent
occurrence of their tracks, deemed such an occurrence to be common. It
is on this elevated and airy tract, that the site of Jefferson Barracks,
has since been judiciously established by the government.

Beyond Carondalet, the country has the appearance of a grown-up heath.
It is a bushy uninviting tract, without mature forest trees. The most
interesting feature we saw, consisted of a number of regular
depressions, or cup-shaped concavities in the soil, caused by the
passage of springs over a clay basis, upon which there is deposited a
heavy diluvial stratum of sand, mixed earth and pebbles. Within about
three miles of the city, this heathy and desolate tract began to assume
a cultivated character; dwellings and gardens soon succeeded, and we
found ourselves, by almost imperceptible grades, introduced into the
city, which we reached about four o'clock in the afternoon. On entering
its ancient Spanish barriers, we noticed one of the old stone towers, or
defences, which constituted a part of the enclosure. This town, I
afterwards learned, had been regularly walled and fortified, during the
possession of the country by the Spanish crown. As soon as I had taken
lodgings, I called on R. Pettibone Esq., a friend formerly of Vernon, in
western N.Y. who had established himself in this central city of the
west, in the practice of the law; he was not in, at the moment, but his
family received me with cordiality. He returned my visit in the evening,
and insisted on my taking up my quarters at his house. The time that I
spent here, was devoted to the most prominent objects which the town and
its vicinity presented to interest a stranger, such as the private
museum of the late Gen. Wm. Clark, containing many articles of rich and
valuable Indian costume; the large natural mounds above the city, and
the character of the rock formation along the shores of the river, which
was said to have had the impressions of human feet, on its original
surface. The latter I did not see till the summer of 1821, when the
block of stone containing them was examined in Mr. Rapp's garden, at
Harmony, on the Wabash.

My inclinations having led me, at this time, to visit the extensive lead
mines, southwest of this city, on the waters of the Merrimack, I lost no
time in retracing my way to Herculaneum, by descending the Mississippi.

When I was prepared to descend the river, the two gentlemen who had been
my travelling companions, on the journey up, had completed the business
of their adventure, and offered me a seat, in a small boat, under their
control. It was late in the afternoon of the day that this arrangement
was proposed, and it was dusk before we embarked; but it was thought the
village of Cahokia, some five or six miles below, could be reached in
good season. A humid and misty atmosphere rendered the night quite dark,
and we soon found ourselves afloat on the broad current of the stream,
without knowing our position, for it was too intensely dark to descry
the outlines of either shore. Being in a light open boat, we were not
only in some peril, from running foul of drifting trees, but it became
disagreeably cold. On putting in for the Illinois shore, a low sandy
bar, or shoal was made, but one of my companions who had landed came
running back with an account of a bear and her cub, which caused us to
push on about a mile further, where we passed the night, without beds or
fire. Daylight disclosed to us the fact that we had passed Cahokia; we
then crossed over to the Missouri shore, and having taken breakfast at
Carondalet, continued the voyage, without any further misadventure, and
reached Herculaneum at noon.

I lost no time in preparing to visit the mines, and having made
arrangements for my baggage to follow, set out on foot for Potosi. The
first day I proceeded eighteen miles, and reached Steeples, at the head
of the Zwoshau, or Joachim river, at an early hour. The day was
excessively hot, and the road lay for the greater part of the distance,
over a ridge of land, which afforded no water, and very little shelter
from the sun's rays. I met not a solitary individual on the route, and
with the exception of the small swift footed lizard, common to the way
side, and a single wild turkey, nothing in the animal kingdom. The
antlers of the deer frequently seen above the grass, denoted it however
to abound in that animal. I was constrained while passing this dry
tract, to allay my thirst at a pool, in a rut, not, however, without
having disconcerted a wild turkey, which had come apparently for the
same purpose.

Next day I crossed the valley of Grand or _Big_ river, as it is commonly
called, and at the distance of twelve miles from the Joachim, I entered
the mining village of Shibboleth--the feudal seat, so to say, of the
noted "John Smith T." of whose singularities rumour had already
apprized me. Here was a novel scene. Carts passing with loads of
ore--smelting furnaces, and fixtures, and the half-hunter, half-farmer
costumes of the group of men who were congregated about the principal
store, told me very plainly, that I was now in the mining region. Lead
digging and discovering, and the singular hap-hazards of men who had
suddenly got rich by finding rich beds of ore, and suddenly got poor by
some folly or extravagance, gave a strong colouring to the whole tone of
conversation at this spot, which was carried on neither in the mildest
or most unobtrusive way; quite a vocabulary of new technical words burst
upon me, of which it was necessary to get the correct import. I had
before heard of the pretty term, "mineral blossom," as the local name
for radiated quartz, but here were tiff (sulphate of barytes),
glass-tiff (calcareous spar), "mineral sign," and a dozen other words,
to be found in no books. At the head of these new terms stood the
popular word "mineral," which invariably meant galena, and nothing else.
To hunt mineral, to dig mineral, and to smelt mineral, were so many
operations connected with the reduction of the ores of galena.

I soon found the group of men about the village store, was a company of
militia, and that I was in the midst of what New Yorkers call a
"training," which explained the hunter aspect I had noticed. They were
armed with rifles, and dressed in their every day leather or cotton
hunting shirts. The officers were not distinguished from the men, either
because swords were not easily procured, or more probably, because they
did not wish to appear with so inefficient and useless an arm. "Food for
powder," was the first term that occurred to me on first surveying this
group of men, but nothing could have been more inapposite; for although
like "lean Jack's" men, they had but little skill in standing in a right
line, never were men better skilled for personal combat,--from the
specimens given, I believe there was hardly a man present, who could not
drive a bullet into the size of a dollar at a hundred yards. No man was
better skilled in this art, either with rifle or pistol, than the Don of
the village, the said John Smith T., or his brother, called "the Major,"
neither of whom travelled, or eat, or slept, as I afterwards witnessed,
without their arms. During my subsequent rambles in the mine country, I
have sat at the same table, slept in the same room, and enjoyed the
conversation of one or the other, and can say, that their extraordinary
habit of going fully armed, was united in both with courteous manners,
honourable sentiments, and high chivalric notions of personal
independence; and I had occasion to notice, that it was none but their
personal enemies, or opponents in business, that dealt in vituperation
against them. John Smith T. was doubtless a man of singular and
capricious humours, and a most fiery spirit, when aroused; of which
scores of anecdotes are afloat. He was at variance with several of his
most conspicuous neighbours, and, if he be likened to the lion of the
forest, it will be perfectly just to add, that most of the lesser
animals stood in fear of him.

My stop here had consumed some time, but thinking I could still reach
_Mine a Burton_, I pushed on, but had only proceeded a couple of miles
when I was hastily compelled to seek shelter from an impending shower.
As it was late, and the storm continued, I remained at a farm house, at
Old Mines during the night. They gave me a supper of rich fresh milk and
fine corn bread. In the morning, a walk of three miles brought me to
Potosi, where I took lodgings at Mr. Ficklin's, proprietor of the
principal inn of the place. Mr. F. was a native of Kentucky, a man of
open frank manners, and most kind benevolent feelings, who had seen much
of frontier life, had lived a number of years in Missouri, and now at a
rather advanced period of life, possessed a fund of local knowledge and
experience, the communication of which rendered the time I spent at his
house both profitable and pleasing.

I reached Potosi on the second of August. The next day was the day of
the county election[1], which brought together the principal miners and
agricultural gentlemen of the region, and gave me a favourable
opportunity of forming acquaintance, and making known the object of my
visit. I was particularly indebted to the civilities of Stephen F.
Austin, Esq. for these introductions. During my stay in the country he
interested himself in my success, omitted no opportunity of furthering
my views, and extending my acquaintance with the geological features and
resources of the country. He offered me an apartment in the old family
mansion of Durham Hall, for the reception and accumulation of my
collections. Mr. Bates and sons, Mr. Jones and sons, Mr. Perry and
brothers, Mr. Elliot, Mr. Brickey, Mr. Honey and others, seconded these
civilities. Indeed the friendly and obliging disposition I uniformly met
with, from the inhabitants of the mines, and the mine country generally,
is indelibly impressed on my memory.

     [1] About 70 votes were polled in the town of Potosi. Mr. Austin,
     the younger, was returned by the county to the Territorial
     Legislature.

I was now at the capital of the mines, and in a position most favourable
for obtaining true information of their character and value. Three
months devoted to this object left scarcely a nook of the country which
I had not either personally explored, or obtained authentic information
of. I found forty-five principal mines, or mineral _diggings_ as some of
them are called, within a circumference of less than forty miles.
Potosi, and its vicinity yielded annually about three millions of pounds
of lead, and furnished employment to the estimated number, of eleven to
twelve hundred hands. The business was however depressed, like almost
every other branch of domestic arts or industry, after the peace of
1814, owing to the great influx and low prices of foreign products, and
the general derangement of currency and credit. Prepared ore, delivered
at the furnaces, was worth two dollars per cwt., paid chiefly in
merchandize. Pig lead sold at four dollars, at the mines; and but half a
dollar higher on the banks of the Mississippi, and was quoted at seven
dollars in the Atlantic cities. Judged from these data, there appeared
no adequate cause for the alleged depression; for in addition to the
ordinary merchant's profit, in the disposition of his stock to the
operative miner or digger of ore, a profit of one cent and a half per
pound was left, over and above the cost of transportation to an eastern
market; besides, the difference in exchange, between the south western
and eastern cities. And it was evident, from a view of the whole
subject, that the business could not only be profitably pursued, with
economical arrangements, but that the public domain, upon which most of
the mines are seated, might be made to yield a revenue to the treasury,
at least equal to the amount of this article required for the national
consumption, over the expenses, the superintendence and management.
Besides which, there was great room for improved and economical modes of
mining; and there was hardly one of the manipulations, from the making
of a common drill or pick, to the erection of a smelting furnace, which
did not admit of salutary changes for the better. The recovery of the
mere waste lead, in its sublimated form, around the open log furnaces of
the country, promised to add a valuable item to the profit of the
business. The most wasteful, hurried, and slovenly of all systems is
pursued in exploring and raising the ore, by which the surface of the
country is riddled with pit holes, in the most random manner; the loose
and scattered deposits in the soil hastily gathered up, and the real
lead and veins of metal left, in very many cases, untouched. Thousands
of square acres of land were thus partially rifled of their riches, and
spoiled, and condemned, without being exhausted. By having no scientific
knowledge of mineral veins and geological structure, as practically
adopted in Europe, all rule in the process of mining and raising the ore
had degenerated into mere guess work, and thousands of dollars had been
wasted, in some places, where the application of some of the plainest
mining principles, would not have warranted the removal of a shovel full
of earth. In short, there was here observed, a blending of the miner and
farmer character. Almost every farmer was a miner. Planters who had
slaves, employed them part of the year in mining; and every miner, to
some extent was a farmer. Because the ore found in the clay beds did not
occur in east and west, or north and south lines, or its rules of
deposition had not been determined by careful observation, all success
in the exploration was supposed to be the result of chance. And whoever
surveys the mineral counties of Missouri, will be ready to conclude,
that more labour has been thrown away in the helter-skelter system of
digging, than was ever applied to well directed or profitable mining.
Had an absolute monarch called for this vast amount of labour from his
people to build some monument, he would have been declared the greatest
tyrant. Indeed, I know of no instance in America, of the misapplication
of so great an amount of free labour--labour cheerfully bestowed, and
thrown away without a regret. For the losers in mining, like the
adventurers in a lottery, have no one to blame but themselves.

It appeared to me that a statement of the actual condition of the mines,
would be received with attention at Washington, and that a system for
the better management of them could not but be approved, were it
properly brought forward. I determined to make the attempt. It did not,
however, appear to me, that nature had limited the deposits of ore to
one species, or to so limited an area, and I sought means to extend my
personal examinations farther west and south. To bring this about, and
to collect the necessary information to base statements on, in a manner
correspondent to my wishes, required time, and a systematic mode of
recording facts.

To this object, in connexion with the natural history of the country, I
devoted the remainder of the year, and a part of the following year. I
soon found, after reaching the mines, that I had many coadjutors in the
business of collecting specimens, in the common miners, some of whom
were in the habit of laying aside for me, any thing they found, in their
pits and leads, which assumed a new or curious character. Inquiries and
applications relative to the mineralogy and structure of the country
were made, verbally and by letter, from many quarters. I established my
residence at Potosi, but made excursions, from time to time, in various
directions. Some of these excursions were fruitful of incidents, which
would be worth recording, did the cursory character of these
reminiscences permit it. On one occasion, I killed a horse by swimming
him across the Joachim river, at its mouth, whilst he was warm and
foaming from a hard day's ride. He was put in the stable and attended,
but died the next day, as was supposed, from this sudden transition.
There was scarcely a mine or digging in the country, for forty miles
around, which I did not personally examine; and few persons, who had
given attention to the subject, from whom I did not derive some species
of information.

The general hospitality and frankness of the inhabitants of the mine
country could not but make a favourable impression on a stranger. The
custom of riding on horseback, in a region which affords great
facilities for it, makes every one a horseman and a woodsman, and has
generated something of the cavalier air and manners. But nothing
impressed me more, in this connexion, than the gallant manner, which I
observed here, of putting a lady on horseback. She stands facing you,
with the bridle in her right hand, and gives you her left. She then
places one of her feet in your left hand, which you stoop to receive,
when, by a simultaneous exertion and spring, she is vaulted backwards
into the saddle. Whether this be a transmitted Spanish custom, I know
not, but I have not observed it in the French, or American settlements
west of the Alleghanies.

The earthquakes of 1812, which were so disastrous in South America, are
known to have propagated themselves towards the north, and they exerted
some striking effects in the lower part of the valley of the
Mississippi, sending down into the channel of the latter, large areas of
deluvial earth, as was instanced, in a remarkable manner, at New Madrid.
Portions of the forest, back of this town, sunk, and gave place to lakes
and lagoons. These effects were also witnessed, though in a milder form,
in the more solid formations of the mine country. Soon after reaching
Potosi, I visited the Mineral Fork, a tributary of the Merrimack, where
some of these effects had been witnessed. I descended into the pit and
crevices of the Old Mines. These mines were explored in the
metalliferous rock. Every thing had an old and ruinous look, for they
had been abandoned. Large quantities of the ore had been formerly raised
at this mine, which was pursued into a deep fissure of the limestone
rock. I descended into this fissure, and found among the rubbish and
vein stones, large elongated and orbicular masses of calc spar, the
outer surfaces of which bore strong marks of geological abrasion. They
broke into rhombs very transparent, and of a honey-yellow colour. Mr.
Elliot, the intelligent proprietor of this mine, represented the
indications of ore to have been flattering, although every thing was now
at a stand. Masses of sulphuret of zinc, in the form of blende, were
noticed at this locality. Mr. Elliot invited me to dine, and he filled
up the time with interesting local reminiscences. He stated, among other
facts, that a copious spring, at these mines, dried up during the
remarkable earthquakes of 1812. These earthquakes appear to have
discharged their shocks in the direction of the stratification from the
southwest to the northeast, but they spent their force west of the
Mississippi. Their chief violence was at Natchitoches and New Madrid, at
the latter of which they destroyed an immense area of alluvial land.
Their effects in the Ohio valley, lying exactly in the direction of
their action, were slight. A Mr. Watkins, of Cincinnati, accompanied me
on this examination, and rode back with me to Potosi.

On the 9th of August, I had dined with Samuel Perry, Esq., at Mine a
Burton, one of the principal inhabitants of the county, and was passing
the evening at Mr. Austin's, when Mr. and Mrs. Perry came suddenly in.
They had hardly taken seats, when a rabble of persons with bells and
horns surrounded the house, and kept up a tumult that would have done
honor to one of the wildest festivals of St. Nicholas, headed by Brom
Bones himself. This, we were told, was a Chiraviri. And what is a
Chiraviri? I am not deep enough read in French local customs to give a
satisfactory answer, but the custom is said to be one that the populace
may indulge in, whenever a marriage has taken place in the village,
which is not in exact accordance with their opinions of its propriety. I
was, by this incident, informed of Mr. Perry's recent marriage, and
should judge, moreover, that he had exercised both taste and judgment in
his selection of a partner. The affair of the Chiraviri is said to have
been got up by some spiteful persons.

Towards the middle of the month (12th,) I set out, accompanied by Mr.
James B. Austin, on horseback, for Herculaneum, by the way of Hazel Run,
a route displaying a more southerly section of the mine country than I
had before seen. A ride on horseback over the mine hills, offers one of
the most delightful prospects of picturesque sylvan beauty that can be
well conceived of. The hills are, with a few exceptions, not precipitous
enough to make the ride irksome. They rise in long and gentle swells,
resembling those of the sea, in which the vessel is, by an easy motion,
alternately at the top of liquid hills, or in the bottom of liquid
vales. From these hills the prospect extends over a surface of
heath-grass and prairie flowers, with an open growth of oaks, giving the
whole country rather the aspect of a _park_ than a _wilderness_.
Occasionally a ridge of pine intervenes, and wherever there is a brook,
the waters present the transparency of rock crystal. Sometimes a range
of red clay hillocks, putting up rank shrubs and vines of species which
were _unknown before_, indicates an abandoned digging or mine. Farms and
farm houses were then few; and every traveller we met on horseback, had
more or less the bearing of a country cavalier, with a fine horse, good
equipments, perhaps holsters and pistols, sometimes a rifle, and always
something of a military air, betokening manliness and independence.
Wherever we stopped, and whoever we met on the way, there was evinced a
courteous and hospitable disposition.

We did not leave Potosi till afternoon. It was a hot August day, and it
was dusk before we entered the deep shady valley of Big River. Some
delay arose in waiting for the ferryman to put us across the river, and
it was nine o'clock in the evening when we reached Mr. Bryant's, at
Hazel Run, where we were cordially received. Our host would not let us
leave his house, next morning, till after breakfast. We rode to
McCormick's, on the Platten, to dinner, and reached Herculaneum before
sunset. The distance by this route from Potosi is forty-five miles, and
the road, with the exception of a couple of miles, presented a wholly
new section of the country.

The Mississippi was now low, displaying large portions of its margin,
and exhibiting heavy deposits of mud and slime, which broke into cakes,
as they dried in the sun. I know not whether these exhalations affected
me, but I experienced a temporary illness for a few days during this
visit. I recollect that we had, during this time, some severe and
drenching rain storms, with vivid and copious lightning, and heavy
pealing thunder. These drenching and rapid showers convert the brooks
and rills of the mine country to perfect torrents, and this explains one
cause of the washing away and gullying of roads and streets, so
remarkable on the west bank of the Mississippi. My illness induced me to
give up returning on horseback; and I set out, on the 18th of the month,
in a dearborn, accompanied by Mrs. Austin. On descending the long hill,
near Donnell's, beyond the Joachim, the evening was so dark that I
became sensible I must have got out of the road. I drove with the more
care a few moments, and stopped. Requesting Mrs. Austin to hold the
reins, I jumped out and explored the ground. I found myself in an
abandoned, badly gullied track, which would have soon capsized the
wagon; but leading the horse by the bridle, I slowly regained my
position in the direct road and got down the hill, and reached the house
without further accident. Next day we drove into Potosi by four o'clock
in the afternoon. This was my second visit, and I now accepted a room
and quarters for my collection, at their old homestead called Durham
Hall.

From this period till the middle of September, I pursued with
unremitting assiduity, the enquiry in hand, and by that time had made a
cabinet collection, illustrating fully the mineralogy, and, to some
extent, the geological structure of the country. I erected a small
chemical furnace for assays. Some of the clays of the country were found
to stand a high heat, and by tempering them with pulverized granite,
consisting largely of feldspar, I obtained crucibles that answered every
purpose. Some of the specimens of lead treated in the dry way, yielded
from 75 to 82 per cent.

Accident threw in my way, on the 25th of August, a fact which led to the
discovery of a primitive tract, on the southern borders of the mine
country, the true geological relation of which to the surrounding
secondary formations, formed at the outset rather a puzzle. I rode out
on horseback on that day, with Mr. Stephen F. Austin, to Miller's, on
the Mineral Fork, to observe a locality of manganese, and saw lying,
near his mills, some large masses of red syenitic granite, which
appeared to have been freshly blasted. He remarked that they were
obtained on the St. Francis, and were found to be the best material at
hand for millstones. On examination, the rock consisted almost
exclusively of red feldspar and quartz. A little hornblende was present,
but scarcely a trace of mica. This species of syenitic granite, large
portions of which, viewed in the field, are complete syenite, and all of
which is very barren of crystals, I have since found on the upper
Mississippi, and throughout the northwestern regions above the secondary
latitudes. The hint, however, was not lost. I took the first opportunity
to visit the sources of the St. Francis: having obtained letters to a
gentleman in that vicinity, I set out on horseback for that region,
taking a stout pair of saddle-bags, to hold my collections. I passed
through Murphy's and Cook's settlements, which are, at the present time,
the central parts of St. Francis county. _Mine a la Motte_ afforded some
new facts in its mineralogical features. I first saw this red syenite,
in place, on Blackford's Fork. The westernmost limits of this ancient
mine extends to within a mile or two of this primitive formation. The
red clay formation extends to the granitic elevations, and conceals
their junction with the newer rock. The nearest of the carboniferous
series, in place, is on the banks of Rock Creek, at some miles'
distance. It is there the crystalline sandstone. How far this primitive
district of the St. Francis extends, has not been determined. The St.
Francis and Grand rivers, both have their sources in it. It is probable
the Ozaw Fork of the Merrimack comes from its western borders. Not less
than twenty or thirty miles can be assigned for its north and south
limits. The Iron mountain of Bellvieu is within it. The vicinity of the
pass called the Narrows, appears to have been the locality of former
volcanic action. A scene of ruder disruption, marked by the vast
accumulation of broken rock, it would be difficult to find. Indeed the
whole tract is one of high geological, as well as scenic interest. Had
the observer of this scene been suddenly dropped down into one of the
wildest, broken, primitive tracts of New England, or the north east
angle of New York, he could not have found a field of higher physical
attractions. Trap and greenstone constitute prominent tracts, and exist
in the condition of dykes in the syenite, or feldspathique granite. I
sought in vain for mica in the form of distinct plates. Some of the
greenstone is handsomely porphorytic, and embraces green crystals of
feldspar. Portions of this rock are sprinkled with masses of bright
sulphuret of iron. Indeed iron in several of its forms abounds. By far
the largest portion of it is in the shape of the micaceous oxyde. I
searched, without success, for the irridescent specular variety, or Elba
ore. In returning from this trip, I found Wolf river greatly swollen by
rains, and had to swim it at much hazard, with my saddle-bags heavily
laden with the results of my examination. It was dark when I reached the
opposite bank: wet and tired I pushed for the only house in sight. As I
came to it the doors stood open, the fences were down, a perfect air of
desolation reigned around. There was no living being found; and the
masses of yawning darkness exhibited by the untenanted rooms, seemed a
fit residence for the genius of romance. Neither my horse nor myself
were, however, in a temper or plight for an adventure of this kind, and
the poor beast seemed as well pleased as I was, to push forward from so
cheerless a spot. Four miles' riding through an untenanted forest, and a
dark and blind road, brought us to a Mr. Murphy, the sponsor of Murphy's
settlement.




SCENES AND ADVENTURES IN THE OZARK MOUNTAINS.

A.D. 1818 AND 1819.

FROM THE ORIGINAL NOTES AND JOURNAL.




PRELIMINARY REMARKS.


Very little, it is conceived, is necessary to enable the reader to
determine the writer's position on the extreme south western frontiers,
in the year 1818. He had spent the summer of that year in traversing the
mine district, which extends along the right bank of the Mississippi,
between the mouth of the Maromeg and the diluvial cliffs south of Cape
Girardeau, extending west and south westward to the sources of the St.
Francis. In these mineralogical rambles, which were pursued sometimes on
foot, and sometimes on horseback, or wheels, he made acquaintance with
many estimable men, amongst whom he may name the Austins, father and
son, the late Col. Ashley, John Rice Jones, Esq., and many others who
are still living, by all whom, his object in visiting the country was
cordially approved and encouraged, at all times. He also became
acquainted with practical miners, and persons of enterprize who were not
only familiar with the settled frontiers, but who had occasionally
penetrated beyond them, into the broad expanse of highlands, now
geographically known under the term of, the Ozark Chain. Geologically
considered, the mine country is but the eastern flanks of this chain,
which extends flush to the banks of the Mississippi, and has its
terminus in that elevated range of mural cliffs, which form so striking
and often picturesque a display, between St. Genevieve and St. Louis.
There was, at the time, a general apprehension felt and expressed, by
hunters and others who had penetrated those wilds in quest of deer and
buffalo, or of saltpetre-earth in the limestone caves, of the predatory
tribe of the Osages,--a people who had for years enjoyed the bad
reputation of being thieves and plunderers. All concurred, however, in
the interesting character of the country extending in a general course,
south-westwardly, from the junction of the Missouri with the
Mississippi. He felt an ardent desire to penetrate this terra incognita.
He could not learn that any exploratory journey had been made towards
the Rocky Mountains, since the well known expeditions of Lewis and
Clark, up the Missouri, and of Lieut. Pike, across the upper region of
the Arkansas, to Santa Fe and Chihuahua. Breckenridge had subsequently
published an account of a trip to Council Bluffs.[2] But neither of
these routes crossed the wide and mountainous tracts referred to, or
gave any definite information respecting them. Viewed on the map, these
routes formed the general exterior outlines, but they left the interior
filling up to be supplied,--or, if supplied at all, it was too often
with such vague phrases as these--"Here are salt mountains." "The ----
is supposed to take its rise here." "Volcanic hills," and so forth. The
geology of the country furnished no indications whatever of the
probability of the latter remark. The kind of pseudo-pumice found
floating down the Missouri, in high water, had been stated by Lewis and
Clarke, to have a far more remote, and local origin. The description of
rock salt, in mountain mass, had long been numbered by popular belief,
among the fanciful creations of an exciting political era; and together
with western volcanoes, had settled down among those antiquarian
rumours, which hold up, as their prime item, the existence of the living
mammoth "beyond the big lakes."

     [2] The United States government, the very next year, 1819, sent
     out Col. Long to the Yellow Stone.

If the writer of the notes and journal which furnish these sketches, was
not swayed by any particular theories of this nature, yet was he not
free from the expectation of finding abundant materials, in the natural
productions and scenery and incidents of the journey, to reward him
amply for its perils. He had received from hunters several objects of
the mineralogical and geological collection which he made, while living
at Potosi, and _Mine a Burton_: from these wild borders, and, without
pretending to estimate the force of each particular object which made up
the sum of his motives, he resolved to organize an expedition, with all
the means he could muster, and explore the region. The Austins, who had
treated him with marked kindness and attention, from the hour of his
first landing in Missouri, were then preparing to make their first
movement into Texas, and held out to him a fine theatre for enterprise;
but it was one not suited to his particular means or taste. He recoiled
from the subtlety of the Spanish character; and is free to confess, that
he deemed it a far more attractive latitude for the zea maize and the
cotton plant, than for those pursuits which led him to prefer the more
rugged eminences of the Ozarks. They, in the end, founded a republic,
and he only made an adventurous journey.

Having thus recalled the era and the motive of the following sketches,
the purport of these remarks is accomplished.

_New York, 1844._




CHAPTER I.

     Things to be thought of before plunging into the woods--Composition
     of the party, and reasons why it was not more numerous--First
     night's encampment--Preliminaries--Sleep in a deserted Indian
     lodge--A singular variety of the Fox Squirrel--The Pack Horse
     escapes--Cross the elevation called the Pinery--Reach the outskirts
     of the settlements in the valley of the Fourche A'Courtois.


Whoever would venture into the wilderness, should provide himself with
such articles of personal comfort or safety, as habits, forecast, or the
particular object of pursuit or observation, require. Every one will
think of arms and ammunition, but there are other things required to
make life pleasant, or even tolerable in the woods. This, prior
excursions had already taught me, but the lesson was repeated by those
of greater experience. There were two persons who had agreed to go with
me, and stick by me, to the end,--the one a native of Massachusetts, and
the other, of Connecticut, both like myself, new in the field, and
unacquainted with life in the woods. What they lacked in this art, they
more than made up, I thought, in intelligence, enterprise and resource.
The name of the first was Brigham. The other, I shall allude to, under
the name of Enobitti. Some three or four other persons, natives of the
region, had consented to go as hunters, or adventurers into a new field
for emigration, but it so happened, that when all was ready--when every
objection to the tour had been obviated, and every want supplied, and
when my two eastern friends came on to the ground, these persons all
quietly, and with an easy flow of reasons, backed out. In fact, my
friend Brigham, was also obliged to relinquish the journey, after he had
reached the point of rendezvous, i. e. Potosi. A residence on the
American bottom, in Illinois, the prior summer, had exposed him to the
malaria of that otherwise attractive agricultural area, and an
intermittent fever, which he had thus contracted, forbade his venturing
beyond the settlements. So that when the appointed day arrived, Enobitti
and myself and my good landlord, Ficklin--a warm hearted Kentuckian, who
had been a hunter and border spy in his youth, were all the persons I
could number, and the latter, only went a short distance, out of the
goodness of his heart, and love of forest adventure, to set us, as it
were, on the way, and initiate us into some necessary forest arts. It
was a bright balmy day,--the 6th of November, 1818. The leaves were
rapidly falling from the trees, and strewed the road and made a musical
rustling among the branches, as we passed the summits of the mine hills,
which separated the valley of Mine a Burton from the next adjoining
stream. The air had just enough of the autumn freshness in it, to make
it inspiring; and we walked forward, with the double animation of
health and hope. As we passed through forests where the hickory
abounded, the fox and grey squirrel were frequently seen preparing their
winter's stores, and gave additional animation to the scene. It was
early in the afternoon when we came into the valley of Bates' Creek--it
was indeed but a few miles from our starting point, where our kind
Mentor told us, it was best to encamp; for, in the first place, it was
the only spot where we could obtain _water_ for a long distance, and
secondly, and more important than all, it was necessary that we should
re-arrange the load of our pack horse, take a lesson in the art of
encamping, and make some other preparations which were proper, before we
plunged outright into the wilderness. This was excellent advice, and
proper not only to novices, but even to the initiated in the woodsman's
art. It is always an object, to make, by this initiatory movement, what
is technically called _a start_.

I had purchased at Potosi, a horse--a low priced animal, rather old and
bony, to carry our blankets, some light cooking utensils and a few other
articles of necessity, and some provisions. He bore the not very
appropriate name of "Butcher," whether from a former owner, or how
acquired I know not, but he was not of a sanguinary temper, or at least,
the only fighting propensity he ever evinced was to get back to Potosi,
as quick as possible, for he ran off the very first night, and
frequently, till we got quite far west, repeated the attempt. The poor
beast seemed to know, instinctively; that he was going away from the
land of corn fodder, and would have to sustain himself by picking up his
meals out of sere-grass, often in stony places, or in some dense and
vine-bound cane bottom, where his hind legs would often be bound fast by
the green briar, while he reached forward in vain, to bite off a green
leaf.

Here we took the first lesson in duly hobbling a horse--a very necessary
lesson: for if not _hobbled_, he will stray away, and cause great
detention in the morning, and if not _well_ hobbled he will injure his
legs. We found, near the banks of the stream, a deserted Indian lodge,
which appeared susceptible, by a little effort, of affording us a very
comfortable night's lodging, and would furthermore, should it rain,
prove an effectual shelter. This arrangement we immediately set about:
the horse was unpacked, his burden stowed in the lodge, the horse
hobbled and belled, and a fire lit. While my companion arranged the
details of the camp, and prepared to boil a cup of tea, I took my gun,
and, with but little ado, shot a number of fine fox and grey
squirrels--being the first fruits of our exertions in the chace. Among
them, there was one of decidedly mongrel species. If not, the variety
was peculiar. He had a grey body, and a red foxy tail, with the belly,
nose, and tips of the ears black, thus uniting characteristics of three
varieties. One or two of these were added to our supper, which we made
with great satisfaction, and in due time spread out our blankets, and
slept soundly till day break.

On sallying out, I found the horse was gone, and set out in pursuit of
him. Although his fore feet were tethered, so that he must lift up both
together, he made his way back, in this jumping manner, to his former
owner's door, in the village of Mine a Burton. He had not, however, kept
the path, all the way, and losing his track after he got on the herbage,
my ear caught the sound of a bell far to the left, which I took to be
his, and followed. I pursued the sound of this bell, which was only
heard now and then, till after crossing hill and dale, without deviation
from the line of sound, I came out at a farm yard, four miles below
Potosi; where I found the bell to be attached to the neck of a stately
penned ox. The owner, (who knew me and the circumstance of my having set
out on the expedition,) told me, that Butcher had reached the mines, and
been sent back, by a son of his former owner, to my camp. I had nothing
left, but to retrace my way to the same spot, where I found the
fugitive, and sat down to a breakfast of tea, bread, ham and squirrel.
The whole morning had been lost by this misadventure. It was ten o'clock
before we got the animal packed and set forward.

Our second day's journey yielded but little to remark. We travelled
diligently along a rough mountainous path, across a sterile tract called
the Pinery. This tract is valuable only for its pine timber. It has
neither farming land nor mineral wealth. Not a habitation of any kind
was passed. We saw neither bird nor animal. The silence of desolation
seemed to accompany us. It was a positive relief to the uniform
sterility of the soil, and monotony of the prospect, to see at length, a
valley before us. It was a branch of the Maromeg, or Merrimack, which is
called by its original French term of _Fourche a Courtois_. We had
travelled a distance of fourteen miles over these flinty eminences. The
first signs of human habitation appeared in the form of enclosed fields.
The sun sunk below the hills, as we entered this valley, and we soon had
the glimpse of a dwelling. Some woodcock flew up as we hastened forward,
and we were not long in waiting for our formal announcement in the loud
and long continued barking of dogs. It required the stern commands of
their master, before they slunk back and became quiet. It was a small
log tenement of the usual construction on the frontiers, and afforded us
the usual hospitality and ready accommodation. They gave us warm cakes
of corn bread, and fine rich milk. We spread our blankets before an
evening's fire, and enjoyed a good night's rest. Butcher here, I think,
had his last meal of corn, and made no attempt to return. With the
earliest streaks of day light, we re-adjusted his pack, and again set
forward.




CHAPTER II.

     Reach a hunter's cabin on the outskirts of the wilderness--He
     agrees to accompany us--Enter the Ozark Hills--Encounter an
     encampment of the Delaware Indians--Character of the country--Its
     alpine air, and the purity of its waters.--Ascend to the source of
     the Merrimack--Reach a game country--Deserted by the hunter and
     guide, and abandoned to individual exertions in these arts.


Every joint labour, which proceeds on the theory, that each person
engaged in it is to render some personal service, must, in order that it
may go on pleasantly and succeed well, have a definite order, or rule of
progress; and this is as requisite in a journey in the wilderness as any
where else. Our rule was to lead the pack horse, and to take the compass
and guide ahead, alternately, day by day. It was thought, I had the best
art in striking and making a fire, and when we halted for the night,
always did this, while my companion procured water and put it in a way
to boil for tea. We carried tea, as being lighter and more easy to make
than coffee. In this way we divided, as equally as possible, the daily
routine of duties, and went on pleasantly. We had now reached the last
settlement on the frontier, and after a couple of hours' walk, from our
last place of lodging, we reached the last house, on the outer verge of
the wilderness. It was a small, newly erected log hut, occupied by a
hunter of the name of Roberts, and distant about 20 miles from, and
south-west of Potosi. Our approach here was also heralded by dogs. Had
we been wolves or panthers, creeping upon the premises at midnight, they
could not have performed their duty more noisily. Truly this was a very
primitive dwelling, and as recent in its structure as it was primitive.
Large fallen trees lay about, just as the axeman had felled them, and
partly consumed by fire. The effect of this partial burning had been
only to render these huge trunks black and hideous. One of them lay in
front of the cottage. In other places were to be seen deer skins
stretched to dry; and deers' feet and antlers lay here and there. There
was not a foot of land in cultivation. It was quite evident at first
sight, that we had reached the dwelling of a border hunter, and not a
tiller of the ground. But the owner was absent, as we learned from his
wife, a spare, shrewd dark-skinned little woman, drest in buckskin, who
issued from the door before we reached it, and welcomed us by the term
of "Strangers." Although this is a western term, which supplies the
place of the word "friend," in other sections of the union, and she
herself seemed to be thoroughly a native of these latitudes, no Yankee
could have been more inquisitive, in one particular department of
enquiry, namely the department relative to the chace. She inquired our
object--the course and distance we proposed to travel, and the general
arrangements of horse-gear, equipage, &c. She told us of the danger of
encountering the Osages, and scrutinized our arms. Such an examination
would indeed, for its thoroughness, have put a lad to his trumps, who
had come prepared for his first quarter's examination at a country
academy. She told us, con amore, that her husband would be back
soon,--as soon indeed as we could get our breakfast, and that he would
be glad to accompany us, as far as Ashley's Cave, or perhaps farther.
This was an opportunity not to be slighted. We agreed to wait, and
prepare our morning's meal, to which she contributed some well baked
corn cakes. By this time, and before indeed we had been long there,
Roberts came in. It is said that a hunter's life is a life of feasting
or fasting. It appeared to be one of the latter seasons, with him. He
had been out to scour the precincts, for a meat breakfast, but came home
empty handed. He was desirous to go out in the direction we were
steering, which he represented to abound in game, but feared to venture
far alone, on account of the rascally Osages. He did not fear the
Delawares, who were near by. He readily accepted our offer to accompany
us as hunter. Roberts, like his forest help-mate, was clothed in deer
skin. He was a rather chunky, stout, middle sized man, with a ruddy
face, cunning features, and a bright unsteady eye. Such a fellow's final
destination would not be a very equivocal matter, were he a resident of
the broad neighbourhood of Sing Sing, or "sweet Auburn:" but here, he
was a man that might, perhaps, be trusted on an occasion like this, and
we, at any rate, were glad to have his services on the terms stipulated.
Even while we were talking he began to clean his rifle, and adjust his
leathern accoutrements: he then put several large cakes of corn bread in
a sack, and in a very short time he brought a stout little horse out of
a log pen, which served for a barn; and clapping an old saddle on his
back and mounting him, with his rifle in one hand, said, "I am ready,"
and led off. We now had a guide, as well as a hunter, and threw this
burden wholly on him. Our course lay up a long ridge of hard bound clay
and chert soil, in the direction of the sources of the Marameg, or, as
it is now universally called and written, Merrimack. After travelling
about four miles we suddenly descended from an acclivity into a grassy,
woodless valley, with a brisk clear stream winding through it, and
several lodges of Indians planted on its borders. This, our guide told
us, was the Ozaw Fork of the Merrimack, (in modern geographical parlance
Ozark.) And here we found the descendants and remainder of that once
powerful tribe of whom William Penn purchased the site of Philadelphia,
and whose ancient dominion extended, at the earliest certain historical
era, along the banks the Lennapihittuck, or Delaware river. Two of them
were at home, it being a season of the year, and time of day, when the
men are out hunting. Judging from peculiarity of features, manners and
dress, it would seem to be impossible that any people, should have
remained so long in contact with or juxtaposition to the European races
and changed so little, in all that constitutes national and personal
identity. Roberts looked with no very friendly eye upon these ancient
lords of the forest, the whole sum of his philosophy and philanthropy
being measured by the very tangible circle of prairie and forests, which
narrowed his own hunting grounds. They were even then, deemed to have
been injudiciously located, by intelligent persons in the west, and have
long since removed to a permanent location, out of the corporate limits
of the States and Territories, at the junction of the river Konga with
the Missouri. I should have been pleased to have lengthened our short
halt, but the word seemed with him and Enobitti to be "onward," and
onward we pushed. We were now fairly in the Ozark chain--a wide and
almost illimitable tract, of which it may be said, that the vallies only
are susceptible of future cultivation. The intervening ridges and
mountains are nearly destitute of forest, often perfectly so, and in
almost all cases, sterile, and unfit for the plough. It is probable
sheep might be raised on some of these eminences, which possess a
sufficiency of soil to permit the grasses to be sown. Geologically, it
has a basis of limestones, resting on sandstones. Unfortunately for its
agricultural character, the surface has been covered with a foreign
diluvium of red clay filled with chips of hornstone, chert and broken
quartz, which make the soil hard and compact. Its trees are few and
stunted; its grass coarse. In looking for the origin of such a soil, it
seems probable to have resulted from broken down slates and shists on
the upper Missouri and below the range of the Rocky Mountains, in which
these broken and imbedded substances originally constituted veins. It is
only in the vallies, and occasional plains, that a richer and more
carbonaceous soil has accumulated. The purest springs, however, gush out
of its hills; its atmosphere is fine and healthful, and it constitutes a
theatre of Alpine attractions, which will probably render it, in future
years, the resort of shepherds, lovers of mountain scenery, and
valetudinarians. There is another remark to be made of the highland
tracts of the Ozark range. They look, in their natural state, more
sterile than they actually are, from the effects of autumnal fires.
These fires, continued for ages by the natives, to clear the ground for
hunting, have had the effect not only to curtail and destroy large
vegetation, but all the carbonaceous particles of the top soil have been
burned, leaving the surface in the autumn, rough, red, dry and hard.
When a plough comes to be put into such a surface, it throws up quite a
different soil; and the effects of light, and the sun's heat are often
found, as I have noticed in other parts of the west, to produce a dark
and comparatively rich soil.

We occupied the entire day in ascending and crossing the ridge of land,
which divides the little valley of the Oza from that of the Merrimack.
When getting near the latter, the soil exhibited traces of what appeared
to be iron ore, but somewhat peculiar in its character, and of dark
hue. This soon revealed itself, in passing a short distance, in an
abundant locality of black and coloured oxide of manganese--lying in
masses in the arid soil. The Indian trail which we were pursuing led
across the valley. We forded the river on foot. No encampments of
Indians were found, nor any very recent traces of them; and we began to
think that the accounts of Osage depredations and plundering, must be
rather exaggerated. The river pours its transparent mountain waters over
a wide bed of pebbles and small boulders, and, at this season, offered
but little impediment to the horses or ourselves in crossing it. The sun
was getting low, by the time we reached the opposite side of the valley,
and we encamped on its borders, a mile or two above. Here we took due
care of our horses, prepared our evening's meal, talked over the day's
adventures, enjoyed ourselves sitting before our camp fire, with the
wild wide creation before us and around, and then sank to a sound repose
on our pallets.

Novices in the woodman's art, and raw in the business of travelling, our
sleep was sounder and more death-like, than that of Roberts. His eye had
shown a restlessness during the afternoon and evening. We were now in a
game country, the deer and elk began to be frequently seen, and their
fresh tracks across our path, denoted their abundance. During the night
they ventured about our camp, so as to disturb the ears of the weary
hunter, and indeed, my own. He got up and found both horses missing.
Butcher's memory of Mine a Burton corn fodder had not deserted him, and
he took the hunter's horse along with him. I jumped up, and accompanied
him, in their pursuit. They were both overtaken about three miles back
on the track, making all possible speed homeward, that their tethered
fore legs would permit. We conducted them back, without disturbing my
companion, and he then went out with his rifle, and quickly brought in a
fine fat doe, for our breakfast. Each one cut fine pieces of steaks, and
roasted for himself. We ate it with a little salt, and the remainder of
the hunter's corn cakes, and finished the repast, with a pint cup each,
of Enobitti's best tea. This turned out to be _a finale_ meal with our
Fourche a Courtois man, Roberts: for the rascal, a few hours afterwards,
deserted us, and went back. Had he given any intimation of
dissatisfaction, or a desire to return, we should have been in a measure
prepared for it. It is probable his fears of the then prevalent bugbear
of those frontiersmen, the Osages, were greater than our own. It is also
probable, that he had no other idea whatever, in leaving the Fourche a
Courtois, than to avail himself of our protection till he could get into
a region where he could shoot deer enough in a single morning to load
down his horse, with the choicest pieces, and lead him home. This the
event, at least, rendered probable; and the fellow not only deserted us
meanly, but he carried off my best new hunting knife, with scabbard and
belt--a loss not easily repaired in such a place.

To cloak his plan, he set out with us in the morning: it had rained a
little, during the latter part of the night, and was lowering and dark
all the morning. After travelling about ten miles, we left the Osage
trail, which began to bear too far north-west, and struck through the
woods in a south course, with the view of reaching Ashley's Cave on one
of the head streams of the river currents. Soon after leaving this
trail, Roberts, who was in advance on our left, about half a mile, fired
at, and killed, a deer, and immediately re-loaded, pursued and fired
again; telling us to continue on our course, as he, being on horseback,
could easily overtake us. We neither heard nor saw more of him. Night
overtook us near the banks of a small lake, or rather a series of little
lakes or ponds, communicating with each other, where we encamped. After
despatching our supper, and adjusting, in talk, the day's rather
eventful incidents, and the morrow's plan of march, we committed
ourselves to rest, but had not sunk into forgetfulness, when a pack of
wolves set up their howl in our vicinity. We had been told that these
animals will not approach near a fire, and are not to be dreaded in a
country where deer abound. They follow the track of the hunter, to share
such part of the carcass as he leaves, and it is their nature to herd
together and run down this animal as their natural prey. We slept well,
but it is worthy of notice, that on awaking about day break, the howling
of the wolves was still heard, and at about the same distance. They had
probably serenaded us all night. Our fire was nearly out; we felt some
chilliness, and determined to rekindle it, and prepare our breakfast
before setting forward. It was now certain, that Roberts was gone.
Luckily he had not carried off our compass, for _that_ would have been
an accident fatal to the enterprise.




CHAPTER III.

     A deeper view of the Ozark Chain. Pass along the flanks of the
     highlands which send out the sources of the Black, Eleven points,
     Currents and Spring rivers. Reach a romantic glen of caves. Birds
     and animals seen. Saltpetre earth; stalactites. Cross the alpine
     summit of the western Ozarks. Source of the Gasconde river Accident
     in fording the Little Osage river.--Encamp on one of its
     tributaries.


It was found, as we began to bestir ourselves for wood to light our fire
that we had reposed not far from a bevy of wild ducks, who had sought
the grassy edge of the lake during the night, and with the first alarm
betook themselves to flight. With not so ready a mode of locomotion, we
followed their example, in due time, and also their course, which was
south. At the distance of a couple of miles, we crossed a small stream,
running south-east, which we judged to be the outlet of the small lakes
referred to, and which is, probably the source of Black River, or the
Eleven points. Our course led us in an opposite direction, and we soon
found ourselves approaching the sterile hills which bound the romantic
valley of the currents. There had been some traces of wheels, on the
softer soil, which had been driven in this direction towards the
saltpetre caves, but we completely lost them, as we came to and ascended
these arid and rugged steeps. Some of these steeps rose into dizzy and
romantic cliffs, surmounted with pines. We wound our way cautiously
amongst them, to find some gorge and depression, through which we might
enter the valley. For ourselves we should not have been so choice of a
path, but we had a pack horse to lead, and should he be precipitated
into a gulf, we must bid adieu to our camp equipage. Our arms and a
single blanket, would be all we could carry. At length this summit was
reached. The view was enchanting. A winding wooded valley, with its
clear bright river, stretched along at the base of the summit. Rich
masses of foliage, hung over the clear stream, and were reflected in its
pellucid current, with a double beauty. The autumnal frost, which had
rifled the highland trees of their clothing, appeared to have passed
over this deeply secluded valley with but little effect, and this
effect, was only to highten the interest of the scene, by imparting to
portions of its foliage, the liveliest orange and crimson tints. And
this was rendered doubly attractive by the contrast. Behind us lay the
bleak and barren hills, over which we had struggled, without a shade, or
a brook, or even the simplest representative of the animal creation. For
it is a truth, that during the heat of the day, both birds and
quadrupeds betake themselves to the secluded shades of the streams and
vallies. From these they sally out, into the plains, in quest of food at
early dawn, and again just before night fall. All the rest of the day,
the plains and highlands have assumed the silence of desolation. Evening
began to approach as we cautiously picked our way down the cliffs, and
the first thing we did, on reaching the stream was to take a hearty
drink of its crystal treasure, and let our horse do the same. The next
object was to seek a fording place--which was effected without
difficulty. On mounting the southern bank, we again found the trail,
lost in the morning, and pursued it with alacrity. It was my turn this
day to be in advance, as guide, but the temptation of small game, as we
went up the valley, drew me aside, while Enobitti proceeded to select a
suitable spot for the night's encampment. It was dark when I rejoined
him, with my squirrel and pigeon hunt. He had confined himself closely
to the trail. It soon led him out of the valley, up a long brushy ridge,
and then through an open elevated pine grove, which terminated abruptly
in a perpendicular precipice. Separated from this, at some eight hundred
yards distance, stood a counter precipice of limestone rock, fretted
out, into pinnacles and massy walls, with dark openings, which gave the
whole the resemblance of architectural ruins. The stream that ran
between these cliffs, was small, and it lay so deep and well embrowned
in the shades of evening, that it presented vividly from this elevation,
a waving bright line on a dark surface. Into this deep dark terrific
glen the path led, and here we lit our fire, hastily constructed a bush
camp, and betook ourselves, after due ablutions in the little stream, to
a night's repose. The sky became rapidly overcast, before we had
finished our meal, and a night of intense darkness, threatening a
tempest, set in. As we sat by our fire, its glare upon huge beetling
points of overhanging rocks, gave the scene a wild and picturesque cast;
and we anticipated returning daylight with an anxious wish to know and
see our exact locality. By the restless tramping of our horse, and the
tinkling of his bell, we knew that he had found but indifferent picking.

Daylight fulfilled the predictions of the evening. We had rain. It also
revealed our position in this narrow, and romantic glen. A high wall of
rocks, encompassed us on either hand, but they were not such as would
have resulted in a volcanic country from a valley fissure. Narrow and
deep as the glen was, it was at once apparent, that it was a valley of
denudation, and had owed its existence to the wasting effects of the
trifling stream within it, carrying away, particle by particle, the
matter loosened by rains and frosts, and mechanical attrition. The
cliffs are exclusively calcareous, and piled up, mason like, in
horizontal layers. One of the most striking pictures which they
presented, was found in the great number, size and variety of caves,
which opened into this calcareous formation. These caves are of all
sizes, some of them very large, and not a few of them situated at
elevations above the floor of the glen, which forbade access.

One of our first objects, after examining the neighbourhood, was to
remove our baggage and location up the glen, into one of these caves,
which at the distance of about a mile, promised us an effectual shelter
from the inclemency of the storm. This done, we determined here to wait
for settled weather, and explore the precincts. By far the most
prominent object, among the caverns, was the one into which we had thus
unceremoniously thrust ourselves. It had evidently been visited before,
by persons in search of saltpetre earth. Efflorescences of nitric earth,
were abundant in its fissures, and this salt was also present in masses
of reddish diluvial earth, which lay in several places. The mouth of
this cave presented a rude irregular arc, of which the extreme height
was probably thirty feet, and the base line ninety. The floor of this
orifice occurs, at an elevation of about forty feet above the stream.
And this size is held for about two hundred feet, when it expands into a
lofty dome, some eighty or ninety feet high, and perhaps, three hundred
in diameter. In its centre a fine spring of water issues from the rock.
From this dome several passages lead off in different directions.

One of these opens into the glen, at an inaccessible point, just below.
Another runs back nearly at right angles with the mouth, putting out
smaller passages, of not much importance, however, in its progress. So
splendid and noble an entrance gave us the highest hopes of finding it
but the vestibule of a natural labyrinth; but the result disappointed
us. These ample dimensions soon contract, and after following the main
or south passage about five hundred yards, we found our further entrance
barred, by masses of fallen rock, at the foot of which a small stream
trickled through the broken fragments, and found its way to the mouth.
Have we good reason to attribute to this small stream, a power
sufficient to be regarded as the effective agent in carrying away the
calcareous rock, so as to have in a long period produced the orifice?
Whence then, it may be asked, the masses of compact reddish clay and
pebble diluvium, which exist? These seem rather to denote that these
caves were open orifices, during the period of oceanic action, upon the
surface of the Ozarks, and that a mass of waters, surcharged with such
materials, flowed into pre-existing caverns. This diluvium is, in truth,
of the same era as the wide spread stream of like kind, which has been
deposited over the metalliferous region of Missouri. If these, however,
be questions for geological doubt, we had lit upon another inquiry,
very prominent on our minds in making this exploration, namely, whether
there were any wild beasts sheltered in its fissures. Satisfied that we
were safe on this score, we retraced our footsteps to our fire, and
sallied out to visit other caves. Most of these were at such heights as
prevented access to them. In one instance, a tree had fallen against the
face of the cliff, in such a manner, that by climbing it to its forks,
and taking one of the latter, the opening might be reached. Putting a
small mineral hammer in my pocket, I ascended this tree, and found the
cave accessible. It yielded some wax-yellow and white translucent
stalactites, and also very delicate white crystals of nitre. The
dimensions of this cave were small, and but little higher than to enable
a man to stand upright.

In each of the caves of this glen which I entered, during a halt of
several days in this vicinity, I looked closely about for fossil bones,
but without success in any instance. The only article of this kind
observed was the recent leg and foot bones and vertebra of the bos
musarius, which appeared to be an inhabitant of the uppermost fissures
in these calcareous cliffs, but I never saw the living species, although
I ranged along their summits and bases, with my gun and hammer, at
various hours. Some of the compact limestone in the bed of the creek
exhibited a striped and jaspery texture. The wood-duck and the duck and
mallard sometimes frequented this secluded stream, and it was a common
resort for the wild turkey, at a certain hour in the evening. This bird
seemed at such times to come in thirsty, from its ranges in quest of
acorns on the uplands, and its sole object appeared to be to drink.
Sitting in the mouth of our cave, we often had a fine opportunity to see
flocks of these noisy and fine birds flying down from the cliffs, and
perching on the trees below us. If they came to roost, as well as to
slack their thirst, a supposition probable, this was an ill-timed
movement, so long as we inhabited the glen, for they only escaped the
claw and talons of one enemy, to fall before the fire-lock of the other.
This bird, indeed, proved our best resource on the journey, for we
travelled with too much noise and want of precaution generally, to kill
the deer and elk, which, however, were abundant on the highland plains.

We passed three days at the Glen Cave, during which there were several
rains; it stormed one entire day, and we employed the time of this
confinement, in preparing for the more intricate and unknown parts of
our journey. Hitherto we had pursued for the most of the way, a trail,
and were cheered on our way, by sometimes observing traces of human
labour. But, from this point we were to plunge into a perfect
wilderness, without a trace or track. We had before us, that portion of
the Ozark range, which separates to the right and left, the waters of
the Missouri from those of the Mississippi. It was supposed, from the
best reports, that by holding south-west, across these eminences, we
should strike the valley of the White River, which interposed itself
between our position there and the Arkansas. To enter upon this tract,
with our compass only as a guide, and with the certainty of finding no
nutritious grass for our horse, required that we should lighten and
curtail our baggage as much as possible, and put all our effects into
the most compact and portable form. And having done this, and the
weather proving settled, we followed a short distance up the Glen of
Caves; but finding it to lead too directly west, we soon left it and
mounted the hills which line its southern border. A number of latter
valleys, covered with thick brush, made this a labour by no means
slight. The surface was rough; vegetation sere and dry, and every
thicket which spread before us, presented an obstacle which was to be
overcome. We could have penetrated many of these, which the horse could
not be forced through. Such parts of our clothing as did not consist of
buckskin, paid frequent tribute to these brambles. At length we got
clear of these spurs, and entered on a high waving table land where
travelling became comparatively easy. The first view of this vista of
high land plains was magnificent. It was covered with moderate sized
sere grass and dry seed pods, which rustled as we passed. There was
scarcely an object deserving the name of a tree, except, now and then, a
solitary trunk of a dead pine, or oak, which had been scathed by
lightning. The bleached skull of the buffalo, was sometimes met, and
proved that this animal had once existed here. Rarely we passed a
stunted oak; sometimes a cluster of saplings crowned the summit of a
sloping hill; the deer often bounded before us; we sometimes disturbed
the hare from its sheltering bush, or put to flight the quail or the
prairie hen. There was no prominent feature for the eye to rest upon.
The unvaried prospect produced satiety. We felt in a peculiar manner the
solitariness of the wilderness. We travelled silently and diligently. It
was a dry and thirsty barren. From morning till sun set we did not
encounter a drop of water. This became the absorbing object. Hill after
hill, and vale after vale were patiently scanned, and diligently footed,
without bringing the expected boon. At length we came, without the
expectation of it, to a small running stream in the plain, where we
gladly encamped. There was also some grass which preserved a greenish
hue, and which enabled our horse also to recruit himself.

Early the next morning we repacked him, and continued our course,
travelling due west south-west. At the distance of five or six miles, we
reached the banks of a clear stream of twenty feet wide, running over a
bed of pebbles and small secondary boulders. This stream ran towards the
north west, and gave us the first intimation we had, that we had crossed
the summit and were on the off drain of the Missouri. We supposed it to
be the source of the Gasconade, or at farthest some eastern tributary of
the Little Osage.

A few hours travelling brought us to the banks of another stream of
much larger size and depth, but running in the same direction. This
stream we found it difficult to cross, and spent several hours in
heaping piles of stone, and connecting them with dry limbs of trees,
which had been carried down by floods. It had a rapid and deep current,
on each side of which was a wide space of shallow water and rolled
boulders of lime and sand stone. We succeeded in driving the horse
safely over. Enobitti led the way on our frail bridge-work, but
disturbed the last link of it as he jumped off on the south bank, so
that it turned under my tread and let me in. There was no kind of danger
in the fall as it was in the shallow part of the stream, but putting out
my hands to break the fall, it so happened that my whole weight rested
on my gun, which was supported on two stones, merely on its butt and
muzzle; the effect was to wrench the barrel. I gave it a counter wrench
as soon as we encamped, but I never afterwards could place full
confidence in it. We had not gone over three or four miles beyond this
river, when we came to the banks of a third stream, running west, but
also sweeping off below, towards the northwest. This stream was smaller
than the former and opposed no difficulty in fording it. Having done
this we followed it up a short distance, and encamped on its south
banks.




CHAPTER IV.

     Hearsay information of the hunters turns out false--We alter our
     course--A bear hunt--An accident--Another rencontre with
     bears--Strike the source of the Great North Fork of White
     River--Journey down this valley--Its character and productions--A
     great Spring--Incidents of the route--Pack horse rolls down a
     precipice--Plunges in the river--A cavern--Osage lodges--A hunter's
     hut.


It was now manifest, from our crossing the last two streams, that we
were going too far north--that we were in fact in the valley of the
Missouri proper; and that the information obtained of the hunters on the
source of the Merrimack, was not to be implicitly relied on. It is not
probable that one of the persons who gave this information had ever been
here. It was a region they were kept out of by the fear of the Osages,
as our own experience in the case of Roberts denoted. Willing to test it
farther, however, we followed down the last named stream a few miles, in
the hope of its turning south or south-west, but it went off in another
direction. We then came to a halt, and after consulting together,
steered our course due _south_ south-west, thus varying our general
course from the caves. This carried us up a long range of wooded
highlands. The forest here assumed a handsome growth. We passed through
a track of the over-cup oak, interspersed with hickory, and had reached
the summit of an elevated wooded ridge, when just as we gained the
highest point, we discovered four bears on a large oak, in the valley
before us. Three of the number were probably cubs, and with their dam,
they were regaling themselves on the ripe acorns without observing us.
We had sought no opportunities to hunt, and given up no especial time to
it, but here was too fair a challenge to be neglected. We tied our horse
securely to a sapling, and then examining our pieces, and putting down
an extra ball, set out to descend the hill as cautiously as possible. An
unlucky slip of Enobitti threw him with force forward and sprained his
ankle. He lay for a short time in agony. This noise alarmed the bears,
who one after the other quickly ran in from the extremities of the limbs
to the trunk, which they descended head first, and scampered clumsily
off up the valley. I pursued them without minding my companion, not
knowing, indeed how badly he was hurt, but was compelled to give up the
chase, as the tall grass finally prevented my seeing what course they
had taken. I now returned to my companion. He could not stand at first,
nor walk when he arose, and the first agony had passed. I proposed to
mount him on the pack horse, and lead him slowly up the valley, and this
plan was carried into effect. But he endured too much suffering to bear
even this. The ankle began to inflame. There was nothing but rest and
continued repose that promised relief. I selected a fine grassy spot to
encamp, unpacked the horse, built a fire, and got my patient comfortably
stretched on his pallet. But little provision had been made at Potosi in
the medical department. My whole store of pharmacy consisted of some
pills and salves, and a few simple articles. The only thing I could
think of as likely to be serviceable, was in our culinary pack,--it was
a little sack of salt, and of this I made a solution in warm water and
bathed the ankle. I then replenished the fire and cut some wood to renew
it. It was still early in the day, and leaving my companion to rest, and
to the effect of the remedy offered, I took my gun and strolled over the
adjoining hills, in hopes of bringing in some pigeons, or other small
game. But it was a time of day when both birds and quadrupeds have
finished their mornings repast, and retired to the groves or fastnesses.
I saw nothing but the little grey bunting, and the noisy jay. When I
returned to our camp in the vale I found my companion easier. The
bathing had sensibly alleviated the pain and swelling. It was therefore
diligently renewed, and the next morning he was so far improved, that he
consented to try the pack horse again. We had not, however, travelled
far, when two large bears were seen before us playing in the grass, and
so engaged in their sport, that they did not perceive us. We were now on
the same level with them, and quickly prepared to give them battle. My
companion dismounted as easily as possible, and having secured the horse
and examined our arms, we reached a stand within firing distance. It was
not till this moment that our approach was discovered by them, and the
first thing they did after running a few yards, was to sit up in the
grass and gaze at us. Having each singled his animal, we fired at the
same instant. Both animals fled, but on reaching the spot where my mark
had sat, blood was copiously found on the grass, and a pursuit was the
consequence. I followed him up a long ridge, but he passed over the
summit so far before me, that I lost sight of him. I came to a large
hollow black oak, in the direction he had disappeared, which showed the
nail marks of some animal, which I believed to be his. While examining
these signs more closely my companion made his appearance. How he had
got there I know not. The excitement had well nigh cured his ancle. He
stood by the orifice, while I went for the axe to our camp, and when I
was tired chopping, he laid hold. We chopped alternately, and big as it
was, the tree at last came down with a crash that made the forest ring.
For a few moments we looked at the huge and partly broken trunk as if a
bear would start from it; but all was silence. We thoroughly searched
the hollow part but found nothing. I went over another ridge of forest
land, started a noble elk, but saw nothing more of my bear. Here
terminated this adventure. We retraced our footsteps back to the valley,
and proceeded on our route. This incident had led us a little south of
our true course; and it so turned out that it was at a point, where a
mile or two one way or the other, was calculated to make a wide
difference in the place of our exit into the valley of White River; for
we were on a high broken summit ridge, from which several important
streams originated. The pursuit of the bear had carried us near to the
head of the valley, and by crossing the intervening summit, we found
ourselves at the head springs of an important stream, which in due time
we learned was the Great North Fork of White River. This stream begins
to develope itself in pools, or standing springs, which soak through the
gravel and boulders, and it is many miles before it assumes the
character of a continuous stream. Even then it proceeds in plateaux or
steps, on which the water has a level, and the next succeeding level
below it has its connection with it, through a rapid. In fact, the whole
stream, till near its mouth, is one series of these lake-like levels,
and short rapids, each level sinking lower and lower, till, like the
locks in a canal, the last flows out on a level with its final
recipient. But however its waters are congregated, they are all pure and
colourless as rock crystal, and well vindicate the propriety of their
original name of _la Riviere Blanc_. They all originate in mountain
springs, are cool and sparkling, and give assurance in this feature,
that they will carry health to the future inhabitants of the valley
through which they flow. With the first springs begins to be seen a
small growth of the cane, which is found a constant species on its
bottom lands. This plant becomes high in more southern latitudes, and
being intertwined with the green briar, renders it very difficult, as we
soon found, to penetrate it, especially with a horse. Man can endure a
thousand adventures and hardships where a horse would die; and it would
require no further testimony than this journey gave, to convince me,
that providence designed the horse for a state of civilization.

We followed the course of these waters about six miles, and encamped. It
was evidently the source of a stream of some note. It ran in the
required direction, and although we did not then know, that it was the
valley of the Great North Fork of White River, we were satisfied it was
a tributary of the latter stream, and determined to pursue it. This we
did for twelve days, before we met with a human being, white or red. It
rapidly developed itself, as we went, and unfolded an important valley,
of rich soil, bearing a vigorous growth of forest trees, and enclosed on
either hand, by elevated limestone cliffs. Nothing could exceed the
purity of its waters, which bubbled up in copious springs, from the
rock, or pebble stratum. For a long distance the stream increased from
such accessions alone, without large and independent tributaries. On the
second day's travel, we came to a spring, of this crystal character,
which we judged to be about fifty feet across, at the point of its issue
from the rock and soil. Its outlet after running about a thousand yards,
joined the main stream, to which it brings a volume fully equal to it.
This spring I named the Elk Spring, from the circumstance of finding a
large pair of the horns of this animal, partly buried in the leaves, at
a spot where I stooped down to drink. I took the horns, and hung them in
the forks of a young oak tree.

We found abundance of game in this valley. There was not an entire day,
I think, until we got near the hunters' camps, that we did not see
either the bear, elk, or deer, or their recent signs. Flocks of the wild
turkey were of daily occurrence. The gray squirrel frequently sported on
the trees, and as the stream increased in size, we found the duck, brant
and swan.

There were two serious objections, however, in travelling down a wooded
valley. Its shrubbery was so thick and rank that it was next to
impossible to force the pack horse through it. Wherever the cane
abounds, and this comprehends all its true alluvions, it is found to be
matted together, as it were, with the green briar and grape vine. So
much noise attended the effort at any rate, that the game generally fled
before us, and had it not been for small game, we should have often
wanted a meal. With every effort, we could not make an average of more
than fourteen miles a day. The river was so tortuous too, that we could
not count, on making more than half this distance, in a direct line. To
remedy these evils we sometimes went out of the valley, on the open
naked plains. It was a relief, but had, in the end, these difficulties,
that while the plains exposed us to greater heats in travelling, they
afforded no water, and we often lost much time in the necessity, we were
under, towards night-fall, of going back to the valley for water.
Neither was it found to be safe to travel far separated, for there were
many causes of accident, which rendered mutual assistance desirable. One
day, while Enobitti led the horse, and was conducting him from a lofty
ridge, to get into the valley, the animal stumbled, and rolled to the
bottom. We thought every bone in his body had been broke, but he had
been protected by his pack, and we found that he was but little injured,
and when repacked, still capable of going forward. On another occasion,
I had been leading him for several hours, along a high terrace of cliffs
on the left banks where this terrace was, as it were, suddenly cut off
by the intersection of a lateral valley. The view was a sublime one,
standing at the pinnacle of junction; but there was no possible way of
descent, and it was necessary to retrace my steps, a long--long way. As
an instance of the very tortuous character of this stream, I will
mention that a rocky peninsula, causing a bend which it took my
companion some two hours to pass, with the horse, I had crossed in less
than twenty minutes, with my hammer and gun. When we had, as we
supposed, become familiar with every species of impediment and delay, in
descending the valley, a new, and very serious and unexpected one, arose
one day, in crossing the stream, from the left to the right bank. It was
my turn to be muleteer that day, and I had selected a ford where the
river was not wide, and the water, apparently, some two or three feet
deep. I judged from the clearness of the pebbles at the bottom, and
their apparent nearness to the surface. But such was the transparency of
the water, that a wide mistake was made. We had nearly lost the horse,
he plunged in over head, could not touch bottom, and when with great
ado, we had got him up the steep bank on the other side, he was
completely exhausted. But this was not the extent of the evil. Our sugar
and salt were dissolved. Our meal, of which a little still remained, was
spoiled. Our tea was damaged,--our blankets and clothing wetted,--our
whole pack soaked. The horse had been so long in the water, in our often
fruitless efforts to get him to some part of the bank depressed enough,
to pull him up, that nothing had escaped its effects. We encamped on the
spot, and spent the rest of the day in drying our effects, and expelling
from our spare garments the superfluous moisture.

The next day we struck out into the high plains, on the right bank, and
made a good day's journey. The country was nearly level, denuded of
trees, with sere autumnal grass. Often the prairie hen started up, but
we saw nothing in the animal creation beside, save a few hares, as
evening came on. To find water for the horse, and ourselves, we were
again compelled to approach the valley. We at length entered a dry and
desolate gorge, without grass or water. Night came on, but no sound or
sight of water occurred. We were sinking deeper and deeper into the
rocky structure of the country at every step, and soon found there were
high cliffs on either side of us. What we most feared now occurred. It
became dark, the clouds had threatened foul weather and it now began to
rain. Had it not been for a cavern, which disclosed itself, in one of
these calcareous cliffs, we must have passed a miserable night. On
entering it, we found a spring of water. It was too high in the cliff to
get the horse in, but we carried him water in a vessel. He was
afterwards hobbled, and left to shift for himself. On striking a fire,
in the cave, its rays disclosed masses of stalactites, and a dark avenue
into the rocks back. Having made a cup of tea and finished our repast,
we determined to explore the cave before lying down to rest, lest we
might be intruded on by some wild animal before morning. A torch of pine
wood was soon made, which guided our footsteps into the dismal recess,
but we found nothing of the kind. On returning to our fire, near the
mouth of the cave, we found the rain had increased to a heavy shower,
and the vivid flashes of lightning, illumined with momentary
brilliancy, the dark and frowning precipices of this romantic gorge. The
excitement and novelty of our position, served to drive away sleep,
notwithstanding a long day's march, and it was late before we sought
repose.

Morning brought a clear sky, but the horse was gone. He had followed on
the back track, up the glen, in search of something to feed upon, and
was not found till we reached the skirts of the plains. The whole
morning was indeed, lost in reclaiming him, and we then set forward
again and returned to the North Fork valley. We found it had assumed a
greater expanse, at the point of our re-entry, which it maintained, and
increased, as we pursued it down. Wide open oak plains extended on the
left bank, which appeared very eligible for the purposes of settlement.
On an oak tree, at this spot, we observed some marks, which had probably
been made by some enterprising land explorer. With these improved
evidences of its character for future occupation, we found the
travelling easier. Within a few miles travel, we noticed a tributary
coming in on the left bank, and at a lower point another on the left.
The first stream had this peculiarity, that its waters came in at a
right angle, with the parent stream, and with such velocity as to pass
directly across its channel to the opposite bank. In this vicinity, we
saw many of the deserted pole camps of the Osages, none of which
appeared, however, to have been recently occupied. So far, indeed, we
had met no hindrance, or annoyance from this people; we had not even
encountered a single member of the tribe, and felt assured that the
accounts we had received of their cruelty and rapacity, had been grossly
exaggerated, or if not wholly overcoloured, they must have related to a
period in their history, which was now well nigh past. We could not
learn that they had hunted on these lands, during late years, and were
afterwards given to understand that they had ceded them to the United
States by a treaty concluded at St. Louis. From whatever causes,
however, the district had been left free from their roving parties, it
was certain that the game had recovered under such a cessation of the
chase. The black bear, deer and elk, were abundant. We also frequently
saw signs of the labours of the beaver along the valley. I had the good
luck, one day, while in advance with my gun, of beholding two of these
animals, at play in the stream, and observing their graceful motions. My
position was, within point blank shot of them, but I was screened from
their gaze. I sat, with gun cocked, meaning to secure one of them after
they came to the shore. Both animals came out together, and sat on the
bank at the edge of the river, a ledge of rocks being in the rear of
them. The novelty of the sight led me to pause, and admire them, when,
all of a sudden, they darted into a crevice in the rock.

On the second day after re-entering the valley, we descried, on
descending a long slope of rising ground, a hunter's cabin, covered with
narrow oak boards, split with a frow; and were exhilarated with the
idea of finding it occupied. But this turned out a delusive hope. It had
been deserted, from appearance, the year before. We found, among the
surrounding weeds, a few stems of the cotton plant, which had grown up
from seeds, accidentally dropped. The bolls had opened. I picked out the
cotton to serve as a material in lighting my camp fires, at night, this
being a labour which I had taken the exclusive management of. The site
of this camp, had been well chosen. There was a small stream in front,
and a heavy rich cane bottom behind it, extending to the banks of the
river. A handsome point of woodlands extended north of it, from the
immediate door of the camp. And although somewhat early in the day, we
determined to encamp, and soon made ourselves masters of the fabric, and
sat down before a cheerful fire, with a title to occupancy, which there
was no one to dispute.


THE BIRD.

VERSIFIED FROM THE GERMAN OF GESSNER: 1812.

    A swain, as he strayed through the grove,
      Had caught a young bird on a spray--
    What a gift, he exclaimed, for my love,
      How beautiful, charming, and gay.

    With rapture he viewed the fair prize,
      And listened with joy to its chat,
    As with haste to the meadow he hies
      To secure it beneath his straw hat.

    I will make of yon willows so gay,
      A cage for my prisoner to mourn,
    Then to Delia, the gift I'll convey,
      And beg for a kiss in return.

    She will grant me that one, I am sure,
      For a present so rare and so gay,
    And I easily can steal a few more
      And bear them enraptured away.

    He returned: but imagine his grief,
      The wind had his hat overthrown,
    And the bird, in the joy of relief,
      Away with his kisses had flown.

H.R.S.




PERSONAL INCIDENTS AND IMPRESSIONS OF THE INDIAN RACE, DRAWN FROM NOTES
OF TRAVEL AND RESIDENCE IN THEIR TERRITORIES.

CHARACTER OF THE RED MAN OF AMERICA.

     INQUIRY I.--What kind of a being is the North American
     Indian?--Have we judged rightly of him?--What are his peculiar
     traits, his affections, and his intellectual qualities?--Is he much
     influenced by his religion, his mode of government, and his
     complicated language.


My earliest impressions of the Indian race, were drawn from the
fire-side rehearsals of incidents which had happened during the perilous
times of the American revolution; in which my father was a zealous
actor, and were all inseparably connected with the fearful ideas of the
Indian yell, the tomahawk, the scalping knife, and the fire brand. In
these recitals, the Indian was depicted as the very impersonation of
evil--a sort of wild demon, who delighted in nothing so much as blood
and murder. Whether he had mind, was governed by any reasons, or even
had any soul, nobody inquired, and nobody cared. It was always
represented as a meritorious act in old revolutionary reminiscences, to
have killed one of them in the border wars, and thus aided in ridding
the land of a cruel and unnatural race, in whom all feelings of pity,
justice, and mercy, were supposed to be obliterated. These early ideas
were sustained by printed narratives of captivity and hair-breadth
escapes of men and women from their clutches, which, from time to time,
fell into my hands, so that long before I was ten years old, I had a
most definite and terrific idea impressed on my imagination of what was
sometimes called in my native precincts, "the bow and arrow race."

To give a definite conception of the Indian man, there lived in my
native valley, a family of Indians of the Iroquois stock, who often went
off to their people in the west, and as often returned again, as if
they were a troop of genii, or the ghosts of the departed, who came to
haunt the nut wood forests, and sub-vallies of the sylvan Tawasenthaw,
which their ancestors had formerly possessed, and to which they still
claimed some right. In this family, which was of the Oneida tribe, and
consisted of the husband and wife, with two grown up sons, I first saw
those characteristic features of the race,--namely, a red skin, with
bright black eyes, and black straight hair. They were mild and docile in
their deportment, and were on friendly terms with the whole settlement,
whom they furnished with neatly made baskets of the linden wood, split
very thin, and coloured to impart variety, and with nice ash brooms.
These fabrics made them welcome guests with every good housewife, who
had forgotten the horrific stories of the revolution, and who was ever
ready to give a chair and a plate, and a lodging place by the kitchen
fire, to poor old Isaac and Anna, for so they had been named. What their
original names were, nobody knew; they had lived so long in the valley
that they spoke the Dutch language, and never made use of their own,
except when talking together; and I recollect, we thought it a matter of
wonder, when they discoursed in Indian, whether such a guttural jargon,
could possibly be the medium of conveying any very definite ideas. It
seemed to be one undistinguished tissue of hard sounds, blending all
parts of speech together.

Had the boys of my own age, and I may say, the grown people, stopped to
reflect, and been led to consider this family and their race in America,
independently of their gross acts, under the strong excitements of war
and revenge, goaded by wrongs, and led on by the class of revolutionary
tories, more implacable than even themselves, we must have seen, in the
peaceable lives, quiet manners, and benevolent dispositions of these
four people, a contradiction to, at least, some part, of the sweeping
conclusions above noticed. But no such thoughts occurred. The word
"Indian," was synonymous then, as perhaps now, with half the opprobrious
epithets in the dictionary. I recollect to have myself made a few lines,
in early life, on the subject, which ran thus:--

     Indians they were, ere Colon crossed the sea,
     And ages hence, they shall but _Indians_ be.

Fortunately I was still young when my sphere of observation was
enlarged, by seeing masses of them, in their native forests; and I,
after a few years, assumed a position as government agent to one of the
leading tribes, at an age when opinions are not too firmly rooted to
permit change. My opinions were still, very much however, what they had
been in boyhood. I looked upon them as very cannibals and blood-thirsty
fellows, who were only waiting a good opportunity to knock one in the
head. But I regarded them as a curious subject of observation. The
remembrance of poor old Isaac, had shown me that there was some feeling
and humanity in their breasts. I had seen many of them in my travels in
the west, and I felt inclined to inquire into the traits of a people,
among whom my duties had placed me. I had, from early youth, felt
pleased with the study of natural history, and I thought the Indian, at
least in his languages, might be studied with something of the same mode
of exactitude. I had a strong propensity, at this time of life, for
analysis, and I believed that something like an analytical process might
be applied to enquiries, at least in the department of philology.
Whenever a fact occurred, in the progress of my official duties, which I
deemed characteristic, I made note of it, and in this way preserved a
sort of skeleton of dates and events, which, it was believed, would be a
source of useful future reference. It is, in truth, under advantages of
the kind, that these remarks are commenced.

The author has thrown out these remarks, as a starting point. He has
made observations which do not, in all respects, coincide with the
commonly received opinions, and drawn some conclusions which are
directly adverse to them. He has been placed in scenes and circumstances
of varied interest, and met with many characters, in the course of four
and twenty years' residence and travel in the wilds of America, who
would have struck any observer as original and interesting. With numbers
of them, he has formed an intimate acquaintance, and with not a few,
contracted lasting friendships. Connected with them by a long residence,
by the exercise of official duties, and by still more delicate and
sacred ties, he has been regarded by them as one identified with their
history, and received many marks of their confidence.

The Indians, viewed as a distinct branch of the human race, have some
peculiar traits and institutions, from which their history and character
may be advantageously studied. They hold some opinions, which are not
easily discovered by a stranger, or a foreigner, but which yet exert a
powerful influence on their conduct and life. There is a subtlety in
some of their modes of thought and belief, on life and the existence of
spiritual and creative power, which would seem to have been eliminated
from some intellectual crucible, without the limits of their present
sphere. Yet, there is much relative to all the common concerns of life,
which is peculiar to it. The author has witnessed many practices and
observances, such as travellers have often noticed, but like others,
attributed them to accident, or to some cause widely different from the
true one. By degrees, he has been admitted into their opinions, and if
we may so call it, the philosophy of their minds; and the life of an
Indian no longer appears to him a mystery. He sees him acting, as other
men would act, if placed exactly in his condition, prepared with the
education the forest has given him, and surrounded with the same wants,
temptations and dangers.

The gentler affections are in much more extensive and powerful exercise
among the Indian race, than is generally believed, although necessarily
developed with less refinement than in civilized society. Their
paternal and fraternal affections, have long been known to be very
strong, as well as their veneration for the dead. It has been his
province in these departments, to add some striking examples of their
intensity of feeling and affection, and truthfulness to nature.

The most powerful source of influence, with the Red man, is his
religion. Here is the true groundwork of his hopes and his fears, and,
it is believed, the fruitful source of his opinions and actions. It
supplies the system of thought by which he lives and dies, and it
constitutes, indeed, the basis of Indian character. By it he preserves
his identity, as a barbarian, and when this is taken away, and the true
system substituted, he is still a Red Man, but no longer, in the popular
sense, an _Indian_--a barbarian, a pagan.

The Indian religion is a peculiar compound of rites, and doctrines, and
observances, which are early taught the children by precept and example.
In this respect, every bark-built village is a temple, and every forest
a school. It would surprise any person to become acquainted with the
variety and extent to which an Indian is influenced by his religious
views and superstitions. He takes no important step without reference to
it. It is his guiding motive in peace and in war. He follows the chace
under its influence, and his very amusements take their tincture from
it. To the author, the facts have been developing themselves for many
years, and while he is able to account for the peculiar differences
between the conduct of Indians and that of white men, in given cases, he
can easily perceive, why the latter have so often been unable to
calculate the actions of the former, and even to account for them, when
they have taken place. It may be here remarked, that the civilized man,
is no less a mysterious and unaccountable being to an Indian, because
his springs of action are alike unintelligible to him.

If the following pages shall afford the public any means of judging of
the Red Race, with greater accuracy, he hopes they may lead to our
treating them with greater kindness and a more enlarged spirit of
justice. The change which has been wrought in his own mind, by the facts
he has witnessed, has been accompanied by a still more important one, as
to their intellectual capacities and moral susceptibilities, and their
consequent claims on the philanthropy of the age. As a class of men, it
is thought their native speakers, without letters or education, possess
a higher scope of thought and illustration, than the _corresponding
class_ in civilized life. This may be accounted for, perhaps, from
obvious external causes, without impugning the actual native capacity of
the lower, although educated classes of civilized life. Still, it is a
very striking fact, and one which has very often forced itself on the
attention of the author. The old idea that the Indian mind is not
susceptible of a high, or an advantageous developement, rests upon
questionable data. The two principal causes, which have prolonged their
continuance in a state of barbarism, on this continent, for so long a
period, are a false religion, and false views of government. The first
has kept back social prosperity and impeded the rise of virtue. With
respect to government, during all the time we have had them for
neighbours, they may be said to have had no government at all. Personal
independence, has kept the petty chiefs from forming confederacies for
the common good. Individuals have surrendered no part of their original
private rights, to secure the observance of the rest. There has been no
public social organization, expressed or implied. The consequence has
been that the law of private redress and revenge prevailed. In the only
two cases where this system was departed from, in North America, namely
that of the Azteek empire, and of the Iroquois confederacy, there was no
lack of vigour to improve. The results were a constantly increasing
power, and extending degree of knowledge up to the respective eras of
their conquest. It was not want of mental capacity, so much as the
non-existence of moral power, and of the doctrines of truth and virtue,
that kept them back; and left our own wandering tribes, particularly,
with the bow and the spear in their hands. He believes, that their
errors, in these particulars, may be pointed out, without drawing
conclusions adverse to their political or social prosperity, under
better auspices, and without attributing such failures to mental
imbecility.

The mode of recording thought, among these tribes, by means of pictorial
signs, and mnemonic symbols, has attracted particular attention, and
gives the author hopes, that he has been enabled to collect, and bring
forward, a body of facts, in this department, which will recommend
themselves by their interest and novelty. Confidence, inspired by long
residence in their territories, revealed to him another trait of
character, in the existence among them of a traditionary imaginative
lore, which is repeated from father to son, and has no small influence
upon their social condition. It is in these two departments, that, he
believes, he has opened new and important means of judging of the Indian
character, and discovered the sources of views and opinions, on many
subjects, which had escaped previous inquirers.

There is one more point, to-which he will here invite a momentary
attention, and which, although not usually enumerated as among the
practical causes that influenced Indian society and character, is yet
believed to exercise a strong, though silent sway, both upon the
question of the mental character, and its true development. The author
alludes to the topic of their languages. Some of the most venerated
writers present a theory of the origin of national government languages
and institutions, difficult or impossible to be conformed with the
nature of man in society, and unsupported by such evidence as their
doctrines require. Such, he regards, the theory of the "social compact,"
except it be viewed in the most undefined and general sense possible.
Such, also, is the theory of the origin and improvement of languages.
The system of government generally prevailing among the Indian tribes,
is indeed so simple and natural, under their circumstances, that it is
thought no person would long seek for the traces of any great
legislator, giving them laws in any past period. When, however, we
consider the curious structure of their languages, we find an ingenuity
and complexity, far surpassing any theory to be discovered in that of
the modern languages of Europe, with, perhaps, some exceptions in the
Basque and Majyer, and even beyond any thing existing in the Greek. As
the latter has long been held up as a model, and the excellencies of its
plan attributed to some unknown, but great and sagacious, learned and
refined mind, we might feel justified in assigning the richness of
forms, the exceeding flexibility, and the characteristic beauties and
excellencies of the Indian tongues, to a mind of far superior wisdom,
ingenuity, and experience. Yet how perfectly gratuitous would this be!
All history bears testimony against the human invention and designed
alteration of language; and none but a mere theorist can ever embrace
the idea that it is, or ever was, in the power of any man, to fabricate
and introduce a new language, or to effect a fundamental change in the
groundwork of an existing one. This, at least, is the decided opinion of
the author; and he firmly believes, that whoever will contemplate the
subject, amidst such scenes as he has been accustomed to, will
inevitably come to the same conclusion. He has seen changes in dialects
commenced and progressive, and indications of others going on, but these
owed their origin and impulse to accidental circumstances, and were not
the result of any plan or design. They were the result of necessity,
convenience, or caprice. These three causes, that is to say, necessity
convenience and caprice, if properly examined and appreciated in their
influence, and traced with care to their effects, will develop the
origin of many things, whose existence has been sought at too great a
distance, or amidst too much refinement.

Books, and the readers of books, have done much to bewilder and perplex
the study of the Indian character. Fewer theories and more observation,
less fancy and more fact, might have brought us to much more correct
opinions than those which are now current. The Indian is, after all,
believed to be a man, much more fully under the influence of common
sense notions, and obvious every-day motives of thought and action, hope
and fear, than he passes for. If he does not come to the same
conclusions, on passing questions, as we do, it is precisely because he
sees the premises, under widely different circumstances. The admitted
errors of barbarism and the admitted truths of civilization, are two
very different codes. He is in want of almost every source of true
knowledge and opinion, which we possess. He has very imperfect notions
on many of those branches of knowledge in what we suppose him best
informed. He is totally in the dark as to others. His vague and vast and
dreamy notions of the Great Author of Existence, and the mode of his
manifestations to the human race, and the wide and complicated system of
superstition and transcendental idolatry which he has reared upon this
basis, place him, at once, with all his sympathies and theories, out of
the great pale of truth and civilization. This is one of the leading
circumstances which prevents him from drawing his conclusions as we draw
them. Placed under precisely similar circumstances, we should perhaps
coincide in his opinion and judgments. But aside from these erroneous
views, and after making just allowances for his ignorance and moral
depression, the Indian is a man of plain common sense judgment, acting
from what he knows, and sees, and feels, of objects immediately before
him, or palpable to his view. If he sometimes employs a highly
figurative style to communicate his thoughts, and even stoops, as we
_now_ know he does, to amuse his fire-side circle with tales of
extravagant and often wild demonic fancy, he is very far from being a
man who, in his affairs of lands, and merchandize, and business,
exchanges the sober thoughts of self preservation and subsistence, for
the airy conceptions of fancy. The ties of consanguinity bind him
strongly. The relation of the family is deep and well traced amongst the
wildest tribes, and this fact alone forms a basis for bringing him back
to all his original duties, and re-organizing Indian society. The author
has, at least, been thrown into scenes and positions, in which this
truth has strongly presented itself to his mind, and he believes the
facts are of a character which will interest the reader, and may be of
some use to the people themselves, so far as affects the benevolent
plans of the age, if they do not constitute an increment in the body of
observational testimony, of a practical nature from which the character
of the race is to be judged.




PERSONAL INCIDENTS AND IMPRESSIONS OF THE RED RACE, DRAWN FROM NOTES OF
RESIDENCE AND TRAVEL IN THE INDIAN TERRITORIES.

DOMESTIC CONDITION OF THE TRIBES AND CONSTITUTION OF THE INDIAN FAMILY.

     INQUIRY II.--What is the domestic condition and organization of the
     Indian family? Is the tie of consanguinity strong, and what
     characteristic facts can be stated of it? How are the domestic
     duties arranged? What are the rights of each inmate of the lodge?
     How is order maintained in so confined a space, and the general
     relations of the family preserved? Are the relative duties and
     labours of the hunter and his wife, equally or unequally divided?
     Who builds the lodge, and how is it constructed?


There is a very striking agreement, in the condition, relative duties
and obligations, of the Indian family, among all the tribes of whom I
have any personal knowledge, in North America. Climate and position, the
abundance or want of the means of subsistence and other accidental
causes, have created gradations of condition in the various tribes, some
of whom excel others in expertness, in hunting and war, and other arts,
but these circumstances have done little to alter the general
characteristics, or to abridge or enlarge the original rights and claims
of each inmate of the lodge. The tribes who cultivated maize in the rich
sub-vallies and plains of the Ohio and Mississippi, had fuller means of
both physical and mental development, than those who were, and still
are, obliged to pick a scanty subsistence, among the frigid, and half
marine regions in the latitudes north of the great lakes. There are some
peculiar traits of manners, in the prairie-tribes, west of the
Mississippi, who pursue the bison on horse back, and rely for their
subsistence greatly, on its flesh, and the sale of its skin. The well
fed Muscogee, Cherokee, or Choctaw, who lived in the sunny vallies of
upper Georgia, Alabama, and Tennessee, the robust Osage, revelling in
the abundance of corn and wild meat, south of the Missouri, and the
lean and rigid Montaignes, Muskeego, and Kenisteno, who push their
canoes through waters choked with aquatic weeds, and wild rice, present
very different pictures of home and comfort, within their lodge doors.
But they really present the same idea, the same sentiments, and the same
round of duties and obligations, of father and mother, sister and
brother, wife and husband. The original type of the human family among
them, is well preserved, better, indeed, than was to have been expected
in a state of barbarism, and among branches of the race who have been so
long separated, and subjected to such severe vicissitudes. It would be
useless, in this view, to draw a parallel between the relative condition
of the members of a family, within, and without the pale of
civilization. Nothing of the kind could be done, without showing up
pictures of want in the hunter-life which are wholly unknown in the
agricultural state. It cannot perhaps, in fair justice, be said that the
tie of consanguinity, in the man of the woods, is stronger, than in
civilized life. But it is in accordance with all observation to say,
that it is very strong, that its impulses beat with marked force, and
are more free from the intertwined ligaments of interest, which often
weakens the tie of relationship in refined and affluent society.

The true idea of matrimony, in Indian life, is also well set forth and
acknowledged, although it has come down through ages of plunder and
wandering, degraded in its condition, shorn of its just ceremonies, and
weakened in its sacred character. I have observed that polygamy, among
the northern tribes, is chiefly to be found, among bands who are
favourably located, and have the best means of subsistence. But even
here it is not reputable; it may often increase a man's influence in the
tribe or nation, but there are always persons in the wildest forests,
who do not think the practice right or reputable. In the worst state of
Indian society, there are always some glimmerings of truth. If the
conscience of the Red man may be compared to a lamp, it may be said to
have rather sunk low into its socket, than actually to have expired. The
relation between husband and wife, in the forest, are formed under
circumstances, which are generally uniform. Various incidents, or
motives determine a union. Sometimes it is brought about by the
intervention of friends; sometimes from a sudden impulse of admiration;
sometimes with, and sometimes against the wishes of the graver and more
prudent relatives of the parties. Where the husband is acceptable, and
has not before been married, which covers the majority of cases, he
comes to live for a while after marriage, in the lodge of his
mother-in-law; and this relation generally lasts until the increase of
children, or other circumstances determine his setting up a lodge for
himself. Presents are still a ready way for a young hunter to render
himself acceptable in a lodge. There are some instances, where
considerable ceremony, and the invitation of friends, have attended the
first reception of the bridegroom, at the lodge; but these are in most
cases, what we should denominate matches of state, or expediency, in
which the bravery, or other public services of a chief or leader, has
inclined his village to think, that his merits deserve the reward of a
wife. Generally, the acceptance of the visitor by the party most
interested, and her mother and father, and their expressed, or tacit
consent, is the only preliminary, and this is done in a private way. The
only ceremonial observance, of which I have ever heard, is the assigning
of what is called an abbinos, or permanent lodge seat, to the
bridegroom. When this has been done, by the mother or mistress of the
lodge, who governs these things, he is received, and henceforth
installed as a constituent member of the lodge and family. The simple
rule is, that he who has a right to sit by the bride, is her husband.

The lodge itself, with all its arrangements, is the precinct of the rule
and government of the wife. She assigns to each member, his or her
ordinary place to sleep and put their effects. These places are
permanent, and only changed at her will, as when there is a guest by day
or night. In a space so small as a lodge this system preserves order,
and being at all times under her own eye, is enforced by personal
supervision. The husband has no voice in this matter, and I have never
heard of an instance in which he would so far deviate from his position,
as to interfere in these minor particulars. The lodge is her precinct,
the forest his.

There is no law, nor force, to prevent an Indian from decreeing his own
divorce, that is to say, leaving one wife and taking another whenever he
sees cause. Yet it often occurs that there is some plausible pretext for
such a step, such as if true, would form some justification of the
measure. The best protection to married females arises from the ties of
children, which by bringing into play the strong natural affections of
the heart, and appeals at once to that principle in man's original
organization, which is the strongest. The average number of children
borne by the women, and which reach the adult period is small, and will
scarcely exceed two. On the pay rolls it did not exceed this. Much of
this extraordinary result is owing to their erratic mode of life, and
their cramped means of subsistence. Another cause is to be found in the
accidents and exposure to which young children are liable, but still
more to their shocking ignorance of medicine. I once knew a child at
three years of age to be killed by an attempt to restore a deranged
state of the bowels, by a strong overdose of an astringent tincture of
hemlock bark administered by her father. This man, who was called
Attuck, had strong natural affections, but he was very ignorant even in
the eyes of the Indian race, being one of that people living N.E. of
lake Superior, who are called variously Gens de Terres, Mountaineers,
and Muskeegoes. Wherever the laws of reproduction are relieved from
these depressing circumstances, the number of children is seen to be
increased.

The chief Iaba-Waddick, who lived on a small bay at the foot of lake
Superior, and had abundance of means of subsistence, had fourteen
children by one wife. He was an excellent hunter, and of habits for the
most part of his life, strictly temperate; he had married young, and had
always had the means of providing his family with adequate clothing and
food. Not one of these children died in infancy. He lived himself to be
old, and died rather from a complaint induced by constitutional
structure, than from a natural decay of vital power.

The duties and labours of Indian life, are believed to be equally, and
not, as has been generally thought, unequally divided between the male
and female. This division is also the most natural possible, and such as
must ever result from the condition of man, as a mere hunter. It is the
duty of the male to provide food, and of the female to prepare it. This
arrangement carries with it to the share of the male, all that relates
to external concerns, and all that pertains to the internal to the care
of the female as completely as is done in civilized life. To the man
belongs not only the business of hunting, for this is an _employment_
and not a _pastime_, but the care of the territory, and keeping off
intruders and enemies, and the preparation of canoes for travel, and of
arms and implements of war. The duties of cooking and dressing meats and
fowl, and whatever else the chase affords, carries on the other hand, to
the share of the hunter's wife, the entire care and controul of the
lodge, with its structure and removal, and the keeping it in order, with
all its utensils and apparatus. A good and frugal hunter's wife, makes
all this a point of ambitious interest, and takes a pride in keeping it
neat and proper for the reception of her husband's guests. She sweeps
the earth clean around the fire, with a broom of branches of the cedar
constructed for this purpose. This lodge it is to be remembered, is made
not of beams and posts, and heavy carpentry, but out of thin poles, such
as a child can lift, set in the ground in a circle, bent over and tied
at the top, and sheathed with long sheets of the white birch bark. A rim
of cedar wood at the bottom, assimilates these birch bark sheets to the
roller of a map, to which in stormy weather a stone is attached to hold
it firm. This stick has also the precise use of a map-roller, for when
the lodge is to be removed, the bark is rolled on it, and in this shape
carried to the canoe, to be set up elsewhere. The circle of sticks or
frame, is always left standing, as it would be useless to encumber the
canoe with what can easily be had at any position in a forest country.

Such at least is the hunting lodge, and indeed, the lodge generally used
by the tribes north of latitude 42 deg. It is, in its figure, a half globe,
and by its lightness and wicker-like structure, may be said to resemble
an inverted bird's nest. The whole amount of the transportable materials
of it, is often comprehended in some half a dozen good rolls of bark,
and as many of rush mats which the merest girl can easily lift. The mats
which are the substitute for floor cloths, and also the under stratum of
the sleeping couch, are made out of the common lacustris or bullrush,
or the flag, cut at the proper season, and woven in a warp of fine hemp
net thread, such as is furnished by traders in the present state of the
Indian trade. A portion of this soft vegetable woof, is dyed, and woven
in various colours. Lodges thus constructed are to be still abundantly
seen, by the summer visitor, in the upper lakes, at all the principal
points, to which the Indians resort, during the height of summer. Such
are the posts of Michilimackinac, Sault Ste. Marie, and Green Bay. At
Michilimackinac, where it is now difficult to get fresh lodge poles,
without going some distance, or trespassing on private rights, the
natives who resort thither, of late years, have adopted an ingenious
change, by which two objects are accomplished at the same time, and the
labour of the females dispensed with in getting new poles. It is known,
that the bark canoe, being itself but an enlarged species of wicker
work, has not sufficient strength to be freighted, without previously
having a number of poles laid longitudinally, in the bottom, as a kind
of vertebral support. These poles on landing upon the gravelly shores of
that island, are set up, or _stacked_ to use a military phrase, that is
tying the tops together and then drawing out the other ends so as to
describe a circle, and thus making a perfect cone. The bark tapestry is
hung around these poles very much as it would be around the globular
close lodges; and by this arrangement, an Indian lodge is raised, and
ready for occupation, in as many minutes, after landing, as the most
expert soldiers could pitch a tent in.

Before we can affirm that the labour of preparing these barks and mats
and setting up, and taking down, the lodge, is disproportionately great,
or heavy on the females, it will be necessary to inquire into other
particulars, both on the side of the male and female. Much of the time
of an Indian female, is passed in idleness. This is true not only of a
part of every day, but is emphatically so, of certain seasons of the
year. She has not like the farmer's wife, her cows to milk, her butter
and cheese to make, and her flax to spin. She has not to wash and comb
and prepare her children every morning, to go to school. She has no
extensive or fine wardrobe to take care of. She has no books to read.
She sets little value on time, which is characteristic of all the race.
What she does, is either very plain sewing, or some very pains taking
ornamental thing. When the sheathing and flooring of the lodges ar

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/39607