From Versailles, we took the track to Vernon, through a rugged and swampy road, it having rained the night before. The country is hilly, and interspersed with runs, which are crossed with some difficulty, the descents and ascents being very considerable. The stumps, "corduroys" (rails laid horizontally across the road where the ground is marshy) swamps, and "republicans," (projecting roots of trees, so called from the stubborn tenacity with which they adhere to the ground, it being almost impossible to grub them up), rendered the difficulty of traversing this forest so great, that notwithstanding our utmost exertions we were unable to make more than sixteen miles from sunrise to sunset, when, both the horse and ourselves being completely exhausted, we halted until morning. I was awoke at sunrise by a "white-billed woodpecker," which was making the woods ring by the rattling of its bill against a tree. This is a large handsome bird, (the picus principalis of Linnaeus), it is sometimes called here the wood-cock. Pigeons, squirrels, and turtle-doves abound in all these forests, and my friend being an expert gunner, we had always plenty of game for dinner. The morning was still grey when we set forward.

We forded the Muskakituck river at Vernon, which stands on its head waters, and is a country seat. We then directed our course to Brownstown, on the east branch of White river. We found the roads still bad until we came within about ten miles of that place. There the country began to assume a more cultivated appearance, and the roads became tolerably good, being made through a sandy or gravelly district. In the neighbourhood of Brownstown there are some rich lands, and from that to Salem, a distance of twenty-two miles, we were much pleased with the country. We had been hitherto journeying through dense forests, and except when we came to a small town, could never see more than about ten yards on either side. All through Indiana the peaches were in great abundance this year, and such was the weight of fruit the trees had to sustain, that the branches were invariably broken where not propped.

From Salem we took a westward track by Orleans to Hindostan, crossed the east branch of White river, and passed through Washington. At a short distance from this town, we had to cross White river again, near the west branch, which is much larger than the east branch. We attempted to ford it, and had got into the middle of the stream before we discovered that the bottom was quicksands. The horse was scared at the footing,—he plunged and broke the traces; however, after a tolerable wetting, we succeeded in getting safe out. A little above the place where we made the attempt, we found there was a ferry-flat. The ferryman considered our attempt as dangerous, for had we gone much further into the stream we should have shot into the quicksands in the deep current. This day the fates were most unpropitious to us; and had we had, like Socrates, a familiar demon at our elbow, he most assuredly would have warned us not to proceed. We had no sooner got into the ferry-flat, and pushed off from shore, than the horse tumbled overboard, carriage and all, and was with difficulty saved from drowning.

We passed through Petersburg to Princeton; but having lost the track, and got into several culs de sacs, an occurrence which is by no means pleasant—as in this case you are unable to turn the carriage, and have no alternative but cutting down one or two small trees in order to effect a passage. After a great deal of danger and difficulty, we succeeded in returning on the true bridle-path, and arrived about ten at night in a small village, through which we had passed three hours before. The gloom and pitchy darkness of an American forest at night, cannot be conceived by the inhabitants of an open country, and the traversing a narrow path interspersed with stumps and logs is both fatiguing and dangerous. Our horse seemed so well aware of this danger, that whenever the night set in, he could not be induced to move, unless one of us walked a little in advance before him, when he would rest his nose on our arm and then proceed. We crossed the Potoka to Princeton, a neat town, surrounded by a fast settling country, and so on to Harmony.

New Harmony is seated on the banks of the Wabash; and following the sinuosities of that river, it is distant sixty-four or five miles from the Ohio, but over land, not more than seventeen. This settlement was purchased by Messrs. Mac Clure and Owen from Mr. Rapp, in the year 1823. The Rappites had been in possession of the place for six years, during which they had erected several large brick buildings of a public nature, and sundry smaller ones as residences, and had cultivated a considerable quantity of land in the immediate vicinity of the town. Mr. Owen intended to have established here a community of union and mutual co-operation; but, from a too great confidence in the power of the system which he advocates, to reform character, he has been necessitated to abandon that design at present.

Harmony must have been certainly a desirable residence when it was the abode of the many literary and scientific characters who composed a part of that short-lived community. A few of these still linger here, and may be seen stalking through the streets of Harmony, like Marius among the ruins of Carthage, deploring the moral desolation that now reigns in this once happy place.

Le Seur, the naturalist, and fellow traveller of Peron, in his voyage to the Austral regions, is still here. The suavity of manners, and the scientific acquirements of this gentleman, command the friendship and esteem of all those who have the pleasure of his acquaintance. He has a large collection of specimens connected with natural history, which the western parts of this country yield in abundance. The advantages presented here for the indulgence of retired habits, form at present the only attractions sufficient to induce him to live out of la belle France.

Mr. Thomas Say, of Philadelphia, who accompanied Major Long on his expedition to the Rocky Mountains, also resides here. He too is a recluse, and is now preparing a work on his favourite subject, natural history. His garden contains a tolerable collection of Mexican and other exotic plants.

Harmony is built on the second bottom of the Wabash, and is perhaps half a mile from the river at low water, the first bottom being about that breadth. Mosquitos abound here, and are extremely troublesome. There are several orchards in the neighbourhood well stocked with apples, peaches, &c.; and the soil being rich alluvion, the farms are productive—so much as fifty dollars per acre is asked for cleared land, close to the town. There is a great scarcity of money here, as in most parts of Indiana, and trade is chiefly carried on by barter. Pork, lard, corn, bacon, beans, &c., being given, by the farmers, to the store-keepers, in exchange for dry goods, cutlery, crockery-ware, &c. The store-keepers either sell the produce they have thus collected to river-traders, or forward it to New Orleans on their own account.

We made an excursion down the river in true Indian style. Our party, consisting of four, equipped in a suitable manner, the weather being then delightfully warm, having stowed on board a canoe plenty of provisions, paddled down the Wabash. The scenery on the banks of this river is picturesque. The foliage in some places springs from the water's edge, whilst at other points it recedes, leaving a bar of fine white sand. The breadth of the Wabash, at Harmony, is about 200 yards, and it divides frequently on its course to the Ohio, forming islands of various degrees of beauty and magnitude. On one of these, about six miles from Harmony, called the "Cut-off," we determined on encamping. Accordingly, we moored our canoe—pitched our tent—lighted our fire—bathed—and having acquired enormous appetites by exertion, commenced the very agreeable operation of demolishing our provisions. We roamed about that and an adjacent island, until evening, when we returned to regale. These islands are generally covered with "cane brakes," and low brush wood, which renders it difficult to effect a passage across them. Cotton-wood, beech, maple, hickory, and white oak, are the trees in greatest abundance. Spice-wood, sassafras, and dittany, are also plenty. Of these a decoction is made, which some of the woods-people prefer to tea; but it is not in general repute. The paw-paw tree (annona triloba) produces a fruit somewhat resembling in taste and shape the fig-banana, but certainly much inferior to that delicious fruit. We saw several deer in the woods, and some cranes upon the shore. With smoking, &c., we passed the evening, and then retired—not to bed, for we had none—but to a right good substitute, a few dry leaves strewn upon the ground—our heads covered by the tent, and at our feet a large fire, which we kept up the whole night. Thus circumstanced, we found it by no means disagreeable.

We spent greater part of next day much after the manner of the preceding, and concluded that it would be highly irrational to shoot game, having plenty of provisions; yet I suspect our being too lazy to hunt, influenced us not a little in that philosophical decision.

Whilst at Harmony, I collected some information relative to the failure of the community, and I shall here give a slight sketch of the result of my inquiries. I must observe that so many, and such conflicting statements, respecting public measures, I believe never were before made by a body of persons dwelling within limits so confined as those of Harmony. Some of the ci-devant "communicants" call Robert Owen a fool, whilst others brand him with still more opprobrious epithets: and I never could get two of them to agree as to the primary causes of the failure of that community.

The community was composed of a heterogeneous mass, collected together by public advertisement, which may be divided into three classes. The first class was composed of a number of well-educated persons, who occupied their time in eating and drinking—dressing and promenading—attending balls, and improving the habits of society; and they may be termed the aristocracy of this Utopian republic. The second class was composed of practical co-operators, who were well inclined to work, but who had no share, or voice, in the management of affairs. The third and last class was a body of theoretical philosophers—Stoics, Platonics, Pythagoreans, Epicureans, Peripatetics, and Cynics, who amused themselves in striking out plans—exposing the errors of those in operation—caricaturing—and turning the whole proceedings into ridicule.

The second class, disliking the species of co-operation afforded them by the first class, naturally became dissatisfied with their inactivity—and the third class laughed at them both. Matters were in this state for some time, until Mr. Owen found the funds were completely exhausted. He then stated that the community should divide; and that he would furnish land, and all necessary materials, for operations, to such of them as wished to form a community apart from the original establishment. This intimation was enough. The first class, with few exceptions, retired, followed by part of both the others, and all exclaiming against Mr. Owen's conduct. A person named Taylor, who had entered into a distillery speculation with one of Mr. Owen's sons, seized this opportunity to get the control of part of the property. Mr. Owen became embarrassed. Harmony was on the point of being sold by the sheriff—discord prevailed, and co-operation ceased.

Of the many private and public charges brought against Mr. Owen, I shall only notice one. It is said that he invited people to throw up their establishments in other parts of America, and come to Harmony, conscious at the same time that the community could not succeed, and, indeed, not caring much about its success, having ultimately in view the increase of the value of his purchase, by collecting a number of persons together, and thus making a town—a common speculation in America. Whether these were his intentions or not, it is impossible for any man to assert or deny; but the fact is no less true, that such has been the result, and that the purchase has been increased in value by the failure of the community, so that ultimately he is not likely to lose anything by the experiment. As to Mr. Owen's statements in public, "that he had been informed that the people of America were capable of governing themselves, and that he tried the experiment, and found they were not so,"—and that "the place having been purchased, it was necessary to get persons to occupy it." These constitute but an imperfect excuse for having induced the separation of families, caused many thriving establishments to be broken up, and even the ruin of some few individuals, who, although their capital was but small, yet having thrown it all into the common stock, when the community failed, found themselves in a state of complete destitution. These persons, then, forgetting the "doctrine of circumstances," and everything but the result, and the promises of Mr. Owen, censured him in no measured language, and cannot be convinced of the purity of his intentions in that affair. Indeed, they have always at hand such a multiplicity of facts to prove that Mr. Owen himself mainly contributed to the failure, that one must be blinded by that partiality which so known a philanthropist necessarily inspires, not to be convinced that, however competent he may be to preach the doctrines of co-operation, he is totally incompetent to carry them into effect.

But Mr. Owen has also declared in public that "the New Harmony experiment succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations." Now what may be his peculiar notions of success, the public are totally ignorant, as he did not think fit to furnish any explanation; but this the public do know, that between the former and the latter statement there is a slight discrepancy.

Some of Mr. Owen's friends in London say, that every thing went on well at Harmony until he gave up the management—that is, that he governed the community for the first few weeks, the short period of its prosperity, and that it declined only from the time of his ceding the dictatorship. Now Mr. Owen himself says, that he only interfered when he observed they were going wrong; implying that he did not interfere in the commencement, but did so subsequently. These are contradictions which would require a good deal of mystification to reconcile in appearance. All the communicants whom I met in America, although they differed on almost every other point, yet agreed on this,—that Mr. Owen interfered from first to last during his stay at Harmony, and that at the time when he first quitted it nothing but discord prevailed.

Very little experience of a residence in the backwoods convinced Mr. Owen that he was not in the situation most consonant with his feelings. He had been, when in Europe, surrounded by people who regarded him as an oracle, and received his ipse dixit as a sufficient solution for every difficulty. His situation at Harmony was very different; for most of the persons who came there had been accustomed to exercise their judgment in matters of practice, and this Mr. Owen is said not to have been able to endure. He would either evade, or refuse, answering direct questions, which naturally made men so accustomed to independence as the Americans are, indignant. The usual answer he gave to any presuming disciple who ventured to request an explanation, was, that "his young friend" was in a total state of ignorance, and that he should therefore attend the lectures more constantly for the future. There is this peculiarity respecting the philosophy propounded by Mr. Owen, which is, that after a pupil has been attending his lectures for eighteen months, he (Mr. Owen) declares that the said pupil knows nothing at all about his system. This certainly argues a defect either in matter or manner.

His followers appear not to be aware of the fact, that Mr. Owen has not originated a single new idea in his whole book, but has simply put forward the notions of Rousseau, Voltaire, Condorcet, Plato, Sir Thomas More, &c., in other language. His merit consists in this, and no small merit it is, that he has collated the ideas of these philosophers—arranged them in a tangible shape, and has devoted time and money to assist their dissemination.

I find on one of his cards, printed for distribution, the following axioms, in the shape of queries, set forth as being his doctrine,—not the doctrine which he advocates.

"Does it depend upon man to be born of such and such parents?

"Can he choose to take, or not to take, the opinions of his parents and instructors?

"If born of Pagan or Mahometan parents, was it in his power to become a Christian?"

These positions are laid down by Rousseau, in many passages of his works; but as one quotation will be sufficient to establish my assertion, I shall not trouble myself to look for others. He says, in his "Lettre a M. de Beaumont," p. 124, "A l'egard des objections sur les sectes particulieres dans lesquelles l'universe est divise, que ne puis-je leur donnez assez de force pour rendre chacun moins entete de la sienne et moins ennemi des autres; pour porter chacque homme a l'indulgence, a la douceur, par cette consideration si frappante et si naturelle; que s'il fut ne dans un autre pays, dans une autre secte il prendrait infailliblement pour l'erreur ce qu'il prends pour la verite, et pour la verite, ce qu'il prends pour l'erreur."

None but a man whose mind had been warped by the too constant contemplation of one particular subject, as Mr. Owen's mind has been warped by the eternal consideration of the Utopian republic, could suppose the practicability of carrying those plans into full effect during the existence of the present generation. He himself, whilst preaching to his handful of disciples the doctrine of perfect equality, is acting on quite different principles; and he has his new lecture-room divided into compartments separating the classes in society—thus proving that even his few followers are unprepared for such a change as he wishes to introduce into society, and that he finds the necessity of temporising even with them.

Another proof of the variance there is between the theory and the practice of Mr. Owen, may be found in the constitution of his new community. The first article says, that, "An annual subscription paid, of not less than one pound, constitutes a member, who is entitled to attend and vote at all public meetings of the association." These may be termed the twenty-shilling freeholders of the community.[4] Then follow the other grades and conditions. A donation of one hundred pounds, constitutes a visitor for life: a donation of five hundred pounds, a vice-president for life: and a donation of one thousand pounds, a president, who, "in addition to the last-mentioned privileges," will enjoy many others of a valuable nature.

King James sold two hundred baronetcies of the United Kingdom, for one thousand pounds each; and Mr. Owen offers an unlimited number of presidentships in his incipient Utopia on the same advantageous terms. I by no means dispute that the distinction Mr. Owen will confer on his purchasers may be quite as valuable, in his eyes and those of his disciples, as that conferred by King James; yet I cannot help suspecting, despite of the insatiable yearning the aristocracy have after vain-glorious titles, that few of them will come forward as candidates for his Utopian honours.

FOOTNOTES:

[4] Since writing the above, I find that the constitution has already undergone an essential change; but Mr. Owen appears to entertain views of reformation very different indeed from our present Whig administration, for he has actually placed both members and visitors in schedule (A) of his reform bill, and at one fell swoop has deprived this most deserving class of all political existence. None but vice-presidents and presidents have now the power of voting.



CHAPTER V.

Having remained about a fortnight at Harmony, we made the necessary arrangements, and, accompanied by B——, set out for St. Louis, in Missouri. We crossed the Wabash into Illinois, and proceeded to Albion, the settlement made by the late Mr. Birkbeck.

Albion is at present a small insignificant town surrounded by prairies, on which there are several handsome farms. Messrs. Birkbeck and Flowers purchased large tracts of land in this neighbourhood, for the purpose of re-selling or letting it to English or other emigrants. These two gentlemen were of the class called in England, "gentlemen farmers," and brought with them from that country very large capitals; a considerable portion of which, in addition to the money laid out on purchase, they expended on improvements. They are both now dead—their property has entirely passed into other hands, and the members of their families who still remain in this country are in comparative indigence.

The most inveterate hostility was manifested by the backwoods people towards those settlers, and the series of outrages and annoyances to which they were exposed, contributed not a little to shorten their days. It at length became notorious that neither Birkbeck nor Flowers could obtain redress for any grievance whatever, unless by appealing to the superior courts,—as both the magistrates and jurors were exclusively of the class of the offenders; and the "Supreme Court of the United States" declared, that the verdicts of the juries, and the decisions of the magistrates were, in many cases, so much at variance with the evidences, that they were disgraceful to the country. A son of the latter gentleman, a lad about fourteen years old, was killed in open day whilst walking in his father's garden, by a blow of an axe handle, which was flung at him across the fence. The evidence was clear against the murderer, and yet he was acquitted. Whilst I was at Vandalia, I saw in a list of lands for sale, amongst other lots to be sold for taxes, one of Mr. Flowers'. The fate of these gentlemen and their families should be a sufficient warning to persons of their class in England, not to attempt settling in the backwoods; or if they have that idea, to leave aside altogether refined notions, and never to bring with them either the feelings or the habits of a gentleman farmer. The whole secret and cause of this guerre a mort, declared by the backwoodsmen against Messrs. Birkbeck and Flowers, was, that when they first settled upon the prairies, they attempted to act the patron and the benefactor, and considered themselves entitled to some respect. Now a west-country American would rather die like a cock on a dunghill, than be patronized after the English fashion; he is not accustomed to receive benefactions, and cannot conceive that any man would voluntarily confer favours on him, without expecting something in return, either in the shape of labour, or goods;—and as to respect, that has totally disappeared from his code since "the Declaration."

Mr. Birkbeck was called "Emperor of the Prairies;" and notwithstanding the hostility of his neighbours, he seems to have been much respected in the other parts of Illinois, as he was chosen secretary of state; and in that character he died, in 1825. He at last devoted himself entirely to gaining political influence, seeing that it was the duty of every man in a free country to be a politician, and that he who "takes no interest in political affairs," must be a bad man, or must want capacity to act in the common occurrences of life.

From Albion we proceeded towards the Little Wabash; but had not got many miles from that town, when an accident occurred which delayed us some time. We were driving along through a wood of scrub-oak, or barren, when our carriage, coming in contact with a stump that lay concealed beneath high grass, was pitched into a rut—it was upset—and before we could recover ourselves, away went the horse dashing through the wood, leaving the hind wheels and body of the vehicle behind. He took the path we had passed over, and fortunately halted at the next corn-field. We repaired the damage in a temporary manner, and again set forward.

After having crossed the Little Wabash, we had to pass through three miles of swamp frequently above our ancles in the mire, for the horse could scarcely drag the empty waggon. We at length came out on "Hardgrove's prairie." The prospect which here presented itself was extremely gratifying to our eyes. Since I had left the little prairie in the Wyandot reserve, I had been buried in eternal forests; and, notwithstanding all the efforts one may make to rally one's spirits, still the heart of a European sickens at the sameness of the scene, and he cannot get rid of the idea of imprisonment, where the visible horizon is never more distant than five or six hundred yards. Yet this is the delight of an Indian or a backwoodsman, and the gloomy ferocity that characterizes these people is evidently engendered by the surrounding scenery, and may be considered as indigenous to the forest. Hardgrove's is perhaps the handsomest prairie in Illinois—before us lay a rich green undulating meadow, and on either side, clusters of trees, interspersed through this vast plain in beautiful irregularity—the waving of the high grass, and the distant groves rearing their heads just above the horizontal line, like the first glimpse of land to the weary navigator, formed a combination of ideas peculiar to the scene which lay before us.

With the exception of one or two miles of wood, occasionally, the whole of our journey through Illinois lay over prairie ground, and the roads were so level, that without any extraordinary exertion on the part of our horse, he carried us from thirty to forty miles a day.

We next crossed the "grand prairie," passing over the Indian trace. Although this is by no means so picturesque as Hardgrove's, yet the boundless prospect that is presented on first entering this prairie is far the more sublime—the ideas expand, and the imagination is carried far beyond the limits of the eye. We saw some deer scouring the plains, and several "prairie wolves" skulking in the high grass—this animal is sometimes destructive to sheep. The size is about that of our fox. Most farmers keep three or four hounds, which are trained to combat the wolf. The training is thus—a dead wolf is first shewn to a young dog, when he is set on to tear it; the next process is to muzzle a live wolf, and tie him to a stake, when the dog of course kills him; the last is, setting the dog on an unmuzzled wolf, which has been tied to a stake, with his legs shackled. The dog being thus accustomed to be always the victor, never fails to attack and kill the prairie wolf whenever he meets him.

Within thirteen miles of Carlisle, we stopped at an inn, a solitary establishment, the nearest habitation being more than six miles distant. The landlord, Mr. Elliot, told us that he was unable to accommodate us with beds, as his house was already quite full; but that if we could dispense with beds, he would provide us with every thing else. Having no alternative, we of course acceded to his proposal. There was then holding at his house what is termed an "inn fair," or the day after the wedding. The marriage takes place at the house of the bride's father, and the day following a party is given by the bridegroom, when he takes home his wife. The people here assembled had an extremely healthy appearance, and some of the girls were decidedly handsome, having, with fine florid complexions, regular features and good teeth. The landlord and his sons were very civil, as indeed were all the company there assembled.

A great many respectable English yeomen have at different periods settled in Illinois, which has contributed not a little to improve the state of society; for the inhabitants of these prairies, generally speaking, are much more agreeable than those of most other parts of the western country.

When the night was tolerably far advanced, the decks were cleared, and three feather beds were placed seriatem on the floor, on which a general scramble took place for berths—we wrapped ourselves in our cloaks, and lay seventeen in a bed until morning, when we arose, and went out to "have a wash." The practice at all inns and boarding-houses throughout the western country, excepting at those in the more considerable towns, is to perform ablutions gregariously, under one of the porches, either before or behind the house—thus attendance is avoided, and the interior is kept free from all manner of pollutions.

An abundance of good stone-coal is found all through this state, of which I saw several specimens. Were it not for this circumstance, the difficulty of procuring wood for fuel and fencing, would more than counterbalance the advantages, in other respects, presented to settlers on the prairies.

The average crops of Indian corn are about fifty bushels per acre, which when planted, they seldom plough or hoe more than once. In the bottom lands of Indiana and Ohio, from seventy to eighty bushels per acre is commonly produced, but with twice the quantity of labour and attention, independent of the trouble of clearing. There are two denominations of prairie: the upland, and the river or bottom prairie; the latter is more fertile than the former, having a greater body of alluvion, yet there are many of the upland prairies extremely rich, particularly those in the neighbourhood of the Wabash. The depth of the vegetable soil on some of those plains, has been found frequently to be from eighteen to twenty feet, but the ordinary depth is more commonly under five. The upland prairies are much more extensive than the river prairies, and are invariably free from intermittent fever—an exemption, which to emigrants must be of the utmost importance.

Previous to our leaving Elliott's inn, we witnessed a chase of two wolves, which had the boldness to come to the sheep-pens close to the house. Unfortunately the dogs were not at hand, and the wolves escaped among the high grass. Mr. Elliott positively refused accepting of any compensation in lieu of our supper and lodging: he said he considered our lodging a thing not to be spoken of; and as to our supper—which by-the-by was a capital one—he had invited us to that. We merely paid for the horse, thanked him for his hospitality, and departed. During our journey through Indiana we had invariably to use persuasion, in order to induce the farmers to take money for either milk or fruit; and whenever we stayed at a farm-house, we never paid more than what appeared to be barely sufficient to cover the actual cost of what we consumed.

At Carlisle, a village containing about a dozen houses, we got our vehicle repaired. We required a new shaft: the smith walked deliberately out—cast his eye on a rail of the fence close by, and in half an hour he had finished a capital shaft of white oak.

The next town we came to was Lebanon, and we determined on staying there that evening, in order to witness a revival. They have no regular places of worship on the prairies, and the inhabitants are therefore subject to the incursions of itinerant preachers, who migrate annually, in swarms, from the more thickly settled districts. There appeared to be a great lack of zeal among the denizens of Lebanon, as notwithstanding the energetic exhortations of the preachers, and their fulminating denunciations against backsliders, they failed in exciting much enthusiasm. The meeting ended, as is customary on such occasions, by a collection for the preachers, who set out on horseback, next morning, to levy contributions on another body of the natives.

From Lebanon we proceeded across a chain of hills, and came in on a beautiful plain, called the "American bottom." Some of those hills were clear to the summit, while others were crowned with rich foliage. Before us, to the extreme right, were six or seven tumuli, or "Indian mounds;" and to the left, and immediately in front, lay a handsome wood. From the hills to the river is about six miles; and this space appears evidently to have been a lake at some former period, previous to the Mississippi's flowing through its present deep channel. Several stagnant ponds lay by our road; sufficient indications of the presence of disease, which this place has the character of producing in abundance. The beauty of the spot, and the fertility of the soil, have, notwithstanding, induced several English families to settle here. Their houses are built of brick, and their gardens and farms are laid out and fenced tastefully.

After traversing the wood, we at length came in sight of the Mississippi, which is here about three quarters of a mile broad. There is a steam ferry-boat stationed at this point, (opposite St. Louis), the construction of which is rather singular. It is built nearly square, having in the middle a house containing two spacious apartments, and on each side decks, on which stand horses, oxen, waggons and carriages of every description.

St. Louis is built on a bluff bank. The principal streets rise one above the other, running parallel with the river; the houses are mostly built of stone, the bank being entirely composed of that material, the walls whitewashed, and the roofs covered with tin: from the opposite side it presents a very gay appearance. The ascent from the water's edge to the back of the town is considerable, but regular. The streets intersect each other at right angles, as do those of most American towns. They are much too narrow, having been laid down and built on from a plan designed by the Spanish commandant, previous to the Missouri territory becoming part of the United States. The population is estimated at six thousand, composed of Creole-French, Irish, and Americans.

St. Louis must, at some future period, become decidedly the most important town in the western country, from its local and relative situation. It is seated on the most favourable point below the mouths of two noble rivers, the Missouri and the Illinois,[5] having at its back an immense tract of fertile country, and open and easy communication with the finest parts of the western and north-western territories. These advantages, added to the constant and uninterrupted intercourse which it enjoys with the southern ports, must ultimately make St. Louis a town of wealth and magnitude.

We visited General Clarke's museum, which chiefly contains Indian costumes and implements of war, with some minerals and fossils, a portion of which he collected while on the expedition to the Rocky mountains with Lewis; and also, two sods of good black turf, from the bogs of Allen, in Ireland. A sight which was quite exhilarating, and reminded me so strongly of the fine odour which exhales from the products of illicit distillation, that guagers and potteen, like the phantoms of hallucination, were presenting themselves continually to my imagination for the remainder of that day.

General Clarke is a tall, robust, grey-headed old man, with beetle-brows, and uncouthly aspect: his countenance is expressive of anything but intelligence; and his celebrity is said to have been gained principally by his having been the companion of Lewis to the Rocky mountains.

The country around St. Louis is principally prairie, and the soil luxuriant. There are many excellent farms, and some fine herds of cattle, in the neighbourhood: yet the supply of produce seems to be insufficient, as considerable quantities are imported annually from Louisville and Cincinnati. The principal lots of ground in and near the town are at the disposal of some five or six individuals, who, having thus created a monopoly, keep up the price. This, added to the little inducement held out to farming people in a slave state, where no man can work himself without losing caste, has mainly contributed to retard the increase of population and prosperity in the neighbourhood of St. Louis.

There are two fur companies established here. The expeditions depart early in spring, and generally return late in autumn. This trade is very profitable. A person who is at present at the head of one of those companies, was five years ago a bankrupt, and is now considered wealthy. He bears the character of being a regular Yankee; and if the never giving a direct answer to a plain question constitutes a Yankee, he is one most decidedly. We had some intention of crossing to Santa Fe, in New Mexico, and we accordingly waited on him for the purpose of making some inquiries relative to the departure of the caravans; but to any of the plain questions we asked, we could not get a satisfactory answer,—at length, becoming tired of hedge-fighting, we departed, with quite as much information as we had before the interview.

A trapping expedition is being fitted out for the Rocky mountains, on an extensive scale. The number of persons intended to be employed on this, is about two hundred. Teams for the transportation of merchandize and luggage are preparing, which is an accommodation never enjoyed before by trappers, as pack-horses have always hitherto been substituted. These waggons may also be found useful as barricades, in case of an attack from the Indians. The expedition will be absent two or three years.

A trade with Santa Fe is also established. In the Spanish country the traders receive, in exchange for dry goods and merchandize of every description, specie, principally; which makes money much more plentiful here than in any other town in the western country.

The caravans generally strike away, near the head waters of the Arkansas and Red rivers, to the south-west, close to the foot of the Rocky mountains—travelling above a thousand miles through the Indian country before they reach the Mexican boundary. These journeys are long and tedious, and require men of nerve and muscle to undertake them; the morasses and rivers which they have to cross—the extensive prairies and savannahs they have to traverse, and the dense forests to penetrate, are sufficient to subdue any but iron constitutions.

The countries west of the Mississippi are likely to be greatly enriched by the trade with Mexico; as, in addition to the vast quantities of valuable merchandize procured from that country, specie to a very large amount is put in circulation, which to a new country is of incalculable advantage. The party which lately returned to Fayette in Missouri, brought 200,000 dollars in specie.

The lead-mines of Galena and Potosi inundate St. Louis with that metal. The latter mines are extensive, consisting of forty in number, and are situated near the head of Big-river, which flows into the Merrimac: a water transportation is thus effected to the Mississippi, eighteen miles below St. Louis. This, however, is only in the spring and fall, as at other seasons the Merrimac is not navigable for common-sized boats, at a greater distance than fifty miles from its mouth. The Merrimac is upwards of 200 miles in length, and at its outlet it is about 200 yards in breadth.

The principal buildings in St. Louis are, the government-house, the theatre, the bank of the United States, and three or four Catholic and Protestant churches. The Catholic is the prevalent religion. There are two newspapers published here. Cafes, billiard tables, dancing houses, &c., are in abundance.

The inhabitants of St. Louis more resemble Europeans in their manners and habits than any other people I met with in the west. The more wealthy people generally spend some time in New Orleans every year, which makes them much more sociable, and much less brusque than their neighbours.

We visited Florissant, a French village, containing a convent and a young ladies' seminary. The country about this place pleased us much. We passed many fine farms—through open woodlands, which have much the appearance of domains—and across large tracts of sumach, the leaves of which at this season are no longer green, but have assumed a rich crimson hue. The Indians use these leaves as provision for the pipe.

We stayed for eight days at a small village on the banks of the Mississippi, about six miles below St. Louis, and four above Jefferson barracks, called Carondalet, or, en badinage, "vide poche." The inhabitants are nearly all Creole-French, and speak a miserable patois. The same love of pleasure which, with bravery, characterizes the French people in Europe, also distinguishes their descendants in Carondalet. Every Saturday night les garcons et les filles meet to dance quadrilles. The girls dance well, and on these occasions they dress tastefully. These villagers live well, dress well, and dance well, but have miserable-looking habitations; the house of a Frenchman being always a secondary consideration. At one of those balls I observed a very pretty girl surrounded by gay young Frenchmen, with whom she was flirting in a style that would not have disgraced a belle from the Faubourg St. Denis, and turning to my neighbour, I asked him who she was; he replied, "Elle s'appelle Louise Constant, monsieur,—c'est la rose de village." Could a peasant of any other nation have expressed himself so prettily, or have been gallant with such a grace?

Accompanied by our landlord, we visited Jefferson barracks. The officer to whom we had an introduction not being chez-lui at that time, we were introduced to some other officers by our host, who united in his single person the triple capacity of squire, or magistrate, newspaper proprietor, and tavern-keeper. The officers, as may be expected, are men from every quarter of the Union, whose manners necessarily vary and partake of the character of their several states.

The barracks stand on the bluffs of the Mississippi, and, with the river's bank, they form a parallelogram—the buildings are on three sides, and the fourth opens to the river; the descent from the extremity of the area to the water's edge is planted with trees, and the whole has a picturesque effect. These buildings have been almost entirely erected by the soldiers, who are compelled to work from morning till night at every kind of laborious employment. This arrangement has saved the state much money; yet the propriety of employing soldiers altogether in this manner is very questionable. Desertions are frequent, and the punishment hitherto inflicted for that crime has been flogging; but Jackson declares now that shooting must be resorted to. The soldiers are obliged to be servilely respectful to the officers, pulling off the undress cap at their approach. This species of discipline may be pronounced inconsistent with the institutions of the country, yet when we come to consider the materials of which an American regular regiment is composed, we shall find the difficulty of producing order and regularity in such a body much greater than at first view might be apprehended. In this country any man who wishes to work may employ himself profitably, consequently all those who sell their liberty by enlisting must be the very dregs of society—men without either character or industry—drunkards, thieves, and culprits who by flight have escaped the penitentiary, and enlisted under the impression that the life of a soldier was one of idleness; in which they have been most grievously mistaken. When we take these facts into consideration, the difficulty of managing a set of such fellows will appear more than a little. Yet unquestionably there are individuals among the officers whose bearing is calculated to inspire any thing but that respect which they so scrupulously exact, and without which they declare it would be impossible to command. The drillings take place on Sundays.

Near Carondalet we visited two slave-holders, who employed slaves in agriculture; which practice experience has shewn in every instance to be unprofitable. One had thirteen; and yet every thing about his house rather indicated poverty than affluence. These slaves lived in a hut, among the outhouses, about twelve feet square—men, women, and children; and in every respect were fully as miserable and degraded in condition as the unfortunate wretches who reside in the lanes and alleys of St. Giles' and Spitalfields, with this exception, that they were well fed. The other slave-holder, brother of the former, lived much in the same manner;—but it is necessary to observe that both these persons were hunters, and that hunters have nothing good in their houses but dogs and venison.

T—— having gone on a hunting excursion with our host, and some of his friends, B—— and I drove the ladies to the plantation of the latter gentleman. He had a farm on the bluffs, which was broken and irregular, as is always the case in those situations. Large holes, called "sink-holes," are numerous along these banks; the shape of them is precisely that of an inverted cone, through the apex of which the water sinks, and works its way into the river. Cedar trees grow on the rocks, and the scenery is in many places extremely grand. Wild-geese congregate in multitudes on the islands in the Mississippi, and at night send forth the most wild and piercing cries.

Our hostess was one of those sylvan Amazons who could handle any thing, from the hunting-knife to the ponderous axe; and she dressed in the true sylph-like costume of the backwoods. Her robe, which appeared to be the only garment with which she encumbered herself, fitted her, as they say at sea, "like a purser's shirt on a handspike," and looked for all the world like an inverted sack, with appropriate apertures cut for head and arms; she wore shoes, in compliment to her guests—her hair hung about her shoulders in true Indian style; and altogether she was a genuine sample of backwoods' civilization. We were placed in a good bed—the state-bed of course—and as we lay, paid our devotions to Urania, and contemplated the beauties of the starry firmament, through an aperture in the roof which would have admitted a jackass.

The proprietor assured us that his slaves produced him no more than the bare interest of the money invested in their purchase, and that he was a slave-holder not from choice, but because it was the prevailing practice of the country. He said he had two handsome Mulatto girls hired out at the barracks for six dollars per month each.

In St. Louis there were seven Indian chiefs, hostages from the Ioway nation. Their features were handsome—with one exception, they had all aquiline noses—they were tall and finely proportioned, and altogether as fine-looking fellows as I ever saw. The colour of these Indians was much redder than that of any others I had seen; their heads were shaven, with the exception of a small stripe, extending from the centre of the crown back to the organ of philoprogenitiveness—the gallant scalping-lock—which was decorated with feathers so as somewhat to resemble the crest of a Greek or Roman helmet. Their bodies were uncovered from the waist upwards, except when they wore blankets, a modern substitute for the buffalo-robe, which they commonly wore over the left shoulder, leaving the right arm and breast bare. The Ioways are a nation dwelling in the Missouri territory, and these hostages delivered themselves up pending the investigation of an affray that had taken place between their people and the backwoodsmen.

The day previous to our departure from St. Louis, the investigation took place in the Museum, which is also the office of Indian affairs. There were upwards of twenty Indians present, including the hostages. The charge made against these unfortunate people and on which they had been obliged to come six or seven hundred miles, to stand their trial before white judges, was, "that the Ioways had come down on the white territory—killed the cattle, and attacked the settlers, by which attack four citizens lost their lives." The principal chief implicated in the affair, named "Big-neck," was called upon for his defence. In the person of this man there was nothing remarkable. He advanced into the centre of the room, and disengaging his right arm from the blanket, shook hands with the judges, and then, in succession, with all the officers of the court. This ceremony being ended, he paused, and drawing himself up to his full height, extended his arm forward towards the judge, and inclining his head a little in the same direction, said, "If I had done that of which my white brother accuses me, I would not stand here now. The words of my red-headed father (General Clarke) have passed through both my ears, and I have remembered them. I am accused, and I am not guilty." (The interpreter translated each sentence as it was delivered, and gave it as nearly verbatim as possible—observe, the pronoun I is here used figuratively, for his party, and for the tribe). "I thought I would come down to see my red-headed father, to hold a talk with him.—I come across the line (boundary)—I see the cattle of my white brother dead—I see the Sauk kill them in great numbers—I said that there would be trouble—I turn to go to my village—I find I have no provisions—I say, let us go down to our white brother, and trade our powder and shot for a little—I do so, and again turn upon my tracks, until I reach my village."—He here paused, and looking sternly down the room, to where two Sauks sat, pointed his finger at them and said, "The Sauk, who always tells lie of me, goes to my white brother and says—the Ioway has killed your cattle. When the lie (the Sauk) had talked thus to my white brother, he comes, thirty, up to my village—we hear our brother is coming—we are glad, and leave our cabins to tell him he is welcome—but while I shake hands with my white brother," he said, pointing to his forehead, "my white brother shoots me through the head—my best chief—three of my young men, a squaw and his[6] child. We come from our huts unarmed—even without our blankets—and yet, while I shake hands with my white brother, he shoots me down—my best chief. My young men within, hear me shot—they rush out—they fire on my white brother—he falls, four—my people fly to the woods without their rifles." He then stated that four more Indians died in the forest of cold and starvation, fearing to return to their villages, and being without either blankets or guns. At length returning, and finding that their "great chiefs" had delivered themselves up, he came to stand his trial.

The next person called was an old chief, named "Pumpkin," who corroborated the testimony of "Big-Neck," but had not been with the party when the Sauks were seen killing the cattle. When he came to that part of the story where the Indian comes from his wig-wam to meet the white man, he said, nearly in the same words used by Big-neck, "While I shake hands with my white brother, my white brother shoots me down—my best chief"—he here paused, and lifting his eyes above the heads of the auditors, his lip curling a little, but resuming again, almost immediately, its natural position, he pronounced in a low but distinct guttural tone, the Indian word meaning "my son." His eye seemed fixed for a few seconds, and then, as if conscious of his weakness, and that the eyes of the great warriors of his tribe were upon him, he looked slowly round in a kind of solemn triumph, and resumed his tale. There was a strong feeling excited in the court by the misfortune of this old man, for the "best chief" of the Ioways was his only son. The court asked the chiefs what they thought should be done in the matter? They spoke a few words to each other, and then answered promptly, that all they required was, that their white brother should be brought down also, and confronted with them. The prisoners were set at liberty on their parole.

Nothing could have been more respectable than the silence and gravity of the Indians during the investigation. The hostages particularly, were really imposing in their appearance; an air of solemnity overspread their manly countenances, whilst their eyes bespoke that unquailing spirit which the habits and vicissitudes of a sylvan life are calculated rather to raise than depress. The Indians, when uncontaminated by the vices of the whites, are really a fine people; and it is melancholy to reflect that in a few centuries the red-man will be known only by name, for his total extinction seems almost inevitable.

The upshot of this affair proved that the Indians' statement was correct, and a few presents was then thought sufficient to compensate the tribe for this most unwarrantable outrage.

The fact of the prisoners being set free on their parole, proves the high character they maintain with the whites. An officer who had seen a great deal of service on the frontiers, assured me that, from experience, he had rather fall into the hands of the Indians, than of the backwoodsmen.[7] Once, while crossing one of the immense prairies in the Missouri territory during the winter season, this gentleman, Mr. R——, was seized with rheumatic pains, and unable to proceed. His party, consisting only of a few men, had no provisions, nor had they any means of taking him with them, being completely exhausted themselves—he was left on the plains to die. An old Indian chief, of one of the hostile tribes, chanced to find him; he carried him home, and nourished him until he was sufficiently recovered to eat with the warriors; when they came to the hut of his host, in order as they said to do honour to the unfortunate white chief. He remained in their village for two months; at the expiration of which time, being sufficiently recovered, they conducted him to the frontiers, took their leave, and retired.

Clements Burleigh, who resided thirty years in the United States, says, in his "Advice to Emigrants," "It may be objected by some that it is dangerous to go to the frontier country, on account of the Indians, wild beasts, &c.; this is no more than a scarecrow. Indians in time of peace are perfectly inoffensive, and every dependence may be placed on them. If you call at their huts, you are invited to partake of what they have—they even will divide with you the last morsel they have, if they were starving themselves; and while you remain with them you are perfectly safe, as every individual of them would lose his life in your defence. This unfortunate portion of the human race has not been treated with that degree of justice and tenderness which people calling themselves Christians ought to have exercised towards them. Their lands have been forcibly taken from them in many instances without rendering them a compensation; and in their wars with the people of the United States, the most shocking cruelties have been exercised towards them. I myself fought against them in two campaigns, and was witness to scenes a repetition of which would chill the blood, and be only a monument of disgrace to people of my own colour.

"Being in the neighbourhood of the Indians during the time of peace, need not alarm the emigrant, as the Indian will not be as dangerous to him as idle vagabonds that roam the woods and hunt. He has more to dread from these people of his own colour than from the Indians."

FOOTNOTES:

[5] Eighteen miles below the mouth of the Missouri, and thirty-six below that of the Illinois.

[6] In the Indian tongue there is no distinction of masculine or feminine gender, but simply of animate and inanimate beings.

[7] "The freedom of manners, and the uncertainty of life, from the various hazards to which it is inevitably exposed, imparts to the character of savages a species of liberality, under which are couched many benevolent principles; a respect for the aged, and in several instances a deference to their equals. The natural coldness of their temperament, admits of few outward demonstrations of civility. They are, however, affable in their mode, and are ever disposed to show towards strangers, and particularly towards the unfortunate, the strongest marks of hospitality. A savage will seldom hesitate to share with a fellow-creature oppressed by hunger, his last morsel of provisions."—Vide Heriot, p. 318.



CHAPTER VI.

On our return to Illinois from Missouri, we visited the tumuli in the "American bottom," for the purpose of more closely investigating the form and disposition of these sepulchral mounds. Their shape is invariably hemispherical, or of the mamelle form. Throughout the country, from the banks of the Hudson to a considerable distance beyond the Mississippi, tumuli, and the remains of earthen fortifications were dispersed. Those of the former which have been removed, were found to contain human bones, earthen vessels, and utensils composed of alloyed metal; which latter fact is worthy of particular notice, as none of the Indians of North America are acquainted with the art of alloying. The vessels were generally of the form of drinking cups, or ewer-shaped cans, sometimes with a flange to admit a cover. One of those which I saw in a museum at Cincinnati, had three small knobs at the bottom on which it stood, and I was credibly informed that a dissenting clergyman, through the esprit de metier, undertook to prove from the circumstance, that the people who raised these mounds and fortifications must have been acquainted with the doctrine of the Trinity. How far the reverend gentleman is correct in his inference, I leave for theologians to decide.

The Indians do not claim the mounds as depositories for their dead, but are well aware of their containing human bones. They frequently encamp near them, and visit them on their journeys, but more as land marks than on any other account. They approach them with reverence, as they do all burial places, no matter of what people or nation. The Quapaws have a tradition, that they were raised "many hundred snows" ago, by a people that no longer exists; they say, that in those days game was so plenty that very little exertion was necessary to procure a subsistence, and there were then no wars—these happy people having then no employment, collected, merely for sport, these heaps of earth, which have ever since remained, and have subsequently been used by another people, who succeeded them, as depositories of their dead. Another tradition is, that they were erected by the Indians to protect them from the mammoths, until the Great Spirit took pity on his red children, and annihilated these enormous elephants. Most of the Indian nations concur in their having been the work of a people which had ceased to exist before the red men possessed those hunting grounds.

The numerous mounds, fortifications, and burial caverns, and the skeletons and mummies, that have been discovered in these catacombs, sufficiently establish the fact, that a people altogether different from the present aborigines once inhabited these regions. At what period this by-gone people flourished still remains a matter of mere conjecture, for to the present time no discovery has been made that could lead to any plausible supposition.

De Witt Clinton having paid more attention to the antiquities of America than any other person of whom I am aware, I shall here insert his description of the forts. He says, "These forts were, generally speaking, erected on the most commanding ground. The walls, or breastworks, were earthen. The ditches were on the exterior of the works. On some of the parapets, oak trees were to be seen, which, from the number of concentric circles, must have been standing one hundred and fifty, two hundred and sixty, and three hundred years; and there were evident indications, not only that they had sprung up since the erection of these works, but that they were at least a second growth. The trenches were in some cases deep and wide, and in others shallow and narrow; and the breastworks varied in altitude from three to eight feet. They sometimes had one, and sometimes two entrances, as was to be inferred from there being no ditches at those places. When the works were protected by a deep ravine, or large stream of water, no ditch was to be seen. The areas of these forts varied from two to six acres; and the form was in general an irregular ellipsis; in some of them, fragments of earthenware and pulverized substances, supposed to have been originally human bones, were to be found."

* * * * *

"I believe we may confidently pronounce, that all the hypotheses which attribute these works to Europeans are incorrect and fanciful: 1st. on account of the present number of the works; 2d. on account of their antiquity; having from every appearance been erected a long time before the discovery of America; and, finally, their form and manner are varient from European fortifications, either in ancient or modern times.

"It is equally clear that they were not the work of the Indians. Until the Senecas, who are renowned for their national vanity, had seen the attention of the Americans attracted to these erections, and had invented the fabulous account of which I have spoken, the Indians of the present day did not pretend to know any thing about their origin. They were beyond the reach of all their traditions, and were lost in the abyss of unexplored antiquity."

At the Bull shoals, east branch of White river in Missouri, several feet below the surface of the banks, reliqua were found which indicated that this spot had formerly been the seat of metalurgical operations. The alloy appeared to be lead united with silver. Arrow-heads cut out of flint, and pieces of earthen pots which had evidently undergone the action of fire, were also found here. The period of time at which these operations were carried on in this place must have been very remote, as the present banks have been since entirely formed by alluvial deposits.

Near the Teel-te-nah (or dripping-fork), which empties itself into the La Platte, and not far distant from its junction with that river, there is an extensive cavern, in which are deposited several mummies. Some tribes which roam this region have a tradition, that the first Indian ascended through this aperture, and settled on the earth's surface.

A few years since, on the Merrimac river in St. Louis county, a number of pigmy graves were discovered. The coffins were of stone; and the length of the bodies which they contained, judging from that of the coffins, could not have been more than from three feet and a half to four feet. The graves were numerous, and the skeletons in some instances nearly entire.

In the month of June (1830), a party of gentlemen, whilst in pursuit of wild turkeys, in Hart county, Kentucky, discovered, on the top of a small knoll, a hole sufficiently large to admit a man's body. Having procured lights, they descended, and at the depth of about sixty feet, entered a cavern, sixteen or eighteen feet square, apparently hewn out of solid rock. The whole chamber was filled with human skeletons, which they supposed, from the size, to be those of women and children. The place was perfectly dry, and the bones were in a state of great preservation. They wished to ascertain how deep the bones lay, and dug through them between four and seven feet, but found them quite as plentiful as at the top: on coming to this depth, dampness appeared, and an unpleasant effluvia arising, obliged them to desist. There was no outlet to the cavern. A large snake, which appeared to be perfectly docile, passed several times round the apartment whilst they remained.

In a museum at New York, I saw one of those mummies alluded to, which appeared to be remarkably small; but I had not an opportunity of examining it minutely. Those that have been found in the most perfect state of preservation were deposited in nitrous caves, and were enveloped in a manner so different from the practices of the Indians, that the idea cannot be entertained of their being the remains of the ancestors of the present race. Flint gives the following description of one of them which he carefully examined. He says, "The more the subject of the past races of men and animals in this region is investigated, the more perplexed it seems to become. The huge bones of the animals indicate them to be vastly larger than any that now exist on the earth. All that I have seen and heard of the remains of the men, would seem to shew that they were smaller than the men of our times. All the bodies that have been found in that high state of preservation, in which they were discovered in nitrous caves, were considerably smaller than the present ordinary stature of men. The two bodies that were found in the vast limestone cavern in Tennessee, one of which I saw at Lexington, were neither of them more than four feet in height. It seems to me that this must have been nearly the height of the living person. The teeth and nails did not seem to indicate the shrinking of the flesh from them in the desiccating process by which they were preserved. The teeth were separated by considerable intervals; and were small, long, white, and sharp, reviving the horrible images of nursery tales of ogres' teeth. The hair seemed to have been sandy, or inclining to yellow. It is well known that nothing is so uniform in the present Indian as his lank black hair. From the pains taken to preserve the bodies, and the great labour of making the funeral robes in which they were folded, they must have been of the 'blood-royal,' or personages of great consideration in their day. The person that I saw, had evidently died by a blow on the skull. The blood had coagulated there into a mass, of a texture and colour sufficiently marked to shew that it had been blood. The envelope of the body was double. Two splendid blankets, completely woven with the most beautiful feathers of the wild turkey, arranged in regular stripes and compartments, encircled it. The cloth on which these feathers were woven, was a kind of linen of neat texture, of the same kind with that which is now woven from the fibres of the nettle. The body was evidently that of a female of middle age, and I should suppose that her majesty weighed, when I saw her, six or eight pounds."

The silly attempts that have been made to establish an oriental origin for the North American Indians, have never produced any other conviction in an unbiased mind, than that the facts brought forward to support that theory existed only in the imaginations of those who advanced them. The colour, the form, the manners, habits, and propensities of the Indians, all combine to establish that they are a distinct race of human beings, and could never have emanated from any people of European, Asiatic, or African origin. The notion that climate would be sufficient to produce an essential change in the appearance of any number of individuals, cannot now be maintained; since from the discovery of America, Europeans, Africans, and Indians have inhabited all regions of this vast continent, without undergoing the slightest characteristic change from the descendants of the original stock, who have remained in their primitive locations. The Power that induces the existence of plants and lower animals indigenous to the different sections of the earth, seems also to induce the existence of a race of men peculiar to the regions in which they are found.

The languages of America are radically different from those of the old world; and no similitude can be traced between the tongues of the red men, and those of any other people hitherto known. Jarvis, in his Paper on the Religion of the Indian Tribes of North America, says, "The best informed writers agree, that there are, exclusive of the Karalit or Esquimaux, three radical languages spoken by the Indians of North America. Mr. Heckwelder denominates them the Iroquois, the Lenape, and the Floridian. The Iroquois is spoken by the Six Nations, the Wyandots, or Hurons, the Nandowessies, the Assiniboils, and other tribes beyond the St. Lawrence. The Lenape, which is the most widely extended language on this side the Mississippi, was spoken by the tribes now extinct, who formerly inhabited Nova Scotia and the present state of Maine, the Abenakis, Micmacs, Canibas, Openangos, Soccokis, Etchemins, and Souriquois; dialects of it are now spoken by the Miamis, the Potawatomies, Missisangoes, and Kickapoos; the Eonestogas, Nanticokes, Shawanese, and Mohicans; the Algonquins, Knisteneaux, and Chippeways. The Floridian includes the languages of the Creeks, or Muskohgees, Chickesaws, Choctaws, Pascagoulas, Cherokees, Seminolese, and several other tribes in the southern states and Florida. These three languages are primitive; that is to say, are so distinct as to have no perceivable affinity. All, therefore, cannot be derived from the Hebrew; for it is a contradiction in terms to speak of three languages radically different, as derived from a common source. Which, then, we may well ask, is to be selected as the posterity of the Israelites: the Iroquois, the Lenape, or the southern Indians?

"Besides, there is one striking peculiarity in the construction of American languages, which has no counterpart in the Hebrew. Instead of the ordinary division of genders, they divide into animate and inanimate. It is impossible to conceive that any nation, in whatever circumstances they might be placed, could depart in so remarkable a manner from the idioms of their native language."

M. Duponceau, a Frenchman settled at Philadelphia, who is perhaps one of the first philologists of the age, concludes a treatise on the same subject with the following deductions:

1.—"That the American languages, in general, are rich in words and in grammatical forms; and that in their complicated construction, the greatest order, method, and regularity prevail."

2.—"That these complicated forms, which I call polysinthetic, appear to exist in all those languages, from Greenland to Cape Horn."[8]

3.—"That these forms appear to differ essentially from those of the ancient and modern languages of the old hemisphere."

We intended to proceed direct from the banks of the Mississippi to Edwardsville, which lies in a north-easterly direction from St. Louis, but unfortunately got on the wrong track, an occurrence by no means uncommon on the prairies, and by this casualty visited Troy, a town containing two houses, namely, a "groggery," and a farm-house, both owned by the one person. The only resemblance this trans-Atlantic Ilium can possibly bear to the city of the ten years' siege, lies in the difficulty of ascertaining its location; for had we not been informed that here stood the town of Troy, we should have passed through this, as we did through many others, without ever suspecting the fact. Town-making is quite a speculation in the western country; and the first thing a man does after purchasing a few hundred acres of ground, is to "lay off a town lot:" this causes the maps to be studded with little circular dots, and great big names attached to them, which would lead one to suppose the population to be much greater than it is in reality.

From Edwardsville, we proceeded by Ripley and Greenville, to Vandalia, the seat of government of the state.

The prairies had lost much of the brilliant green colour which they possessed when we before crossed them, and they were now assuming rather a burnt appearance. Towards the close of autumn the grass generally becomes so dry as to be easily ignited, which formerly took place by accident, or otherwise, almost every year. The sight must be grand indeed; and we almost regretted that we were not so fortunate as to be in danger of being burnt alive—the sight would be worth the risk. There is a penalty attached to the firing of the woods or prairies, as the plantations are now becoming too numerously scattered over the country, and property is likely to be injured by these conflagrations.

Towards the latter end of October, the season peculiar to this country, denominated the "Indian summer," commences, and lasts for some weeks. At this period, the atmosphere is suffused with a vapour which at a distance has the appearance of smoke, arising as it were from fires in the forest. The air is always calm and mild on those days, and the sun's disk assumes a broad, reddish appearance.

Vandalia is the capital of Illinois, and is seated on the Kaskaskia river, which is only navigable to this point during the "freshets" in autumn and spring. The positions of the capitals are chosen for their centrality alone, and not with reference to any local advantages they may possess.

Illinois is a free state, and its constitution is but a counterpart of those of Ohio and Indiana. The extent is 380 miles from north to south, and about 140 miles from east to west: area, 52,000 square miles, or 33,280,000 acres. The population in 1810, was 12,282; in 1820, 55,211: white males, 29,401; white females, 24,387; slaves, 917; militia in 1821, 2,031. The present population is, according to the last census, 157,575. The increase within the last ten years has been nearly 186 per cent.

This state is better circumstanced than any other in the west. It is bounded on the north by the north-west territory; on the south by the Ohio; on the east by the Wabash and Lake Michigan; and on the west by the Mississippi. The Illinois river is navigable at almost all seasons to very nearly its head waters; and by means of a very short portage a communication is established between it and Lake Michigan. A canal is contemplated between this lake and the Wabash.

The heath-hen (tetrao cupido), or as it is here called, the 'Prairie-hen,' abounds on the prairies, particularly in the neighbourhood of barrens. This species of grouse, I believe, is not to be met with in Europe; nor has it been accurately described by any ornithologist before Wilson. One habit of the male of this bird is remarkable: at the season of incubation, the cocks assemble every morning just before day-break, outside the wood, and there exercise themselves tilting until the sun appears, when they disperse. Hunters have not failed to note the circumstance, and take advantage of it.

We were frequently amused with the movements of the "Turkey buzzard" (vultur aura). This bird is well known in the southern and western states; and in the former is considered of so much utility that a penalty is inflicted on any person who may wantonly destroy it. It is perfectly harmless, never attacking even the smallest living animal, and seems always to prefer carrion when in a state of putrefaction. Except when rising from the ground, the buzzard never flaps its wings, but literally floats through the atmosphere, forming graceful ogees.

During our journeys across Illinois, we passed several large bodies of settlers on their way to Sangamon and Morgan counties in that state. These counties are situated on the Illinois river, and are said to be fertile tracts. The mass of those persons were Georgians, Virginians, and Kentuckians, whose comparative poverty rendered their residence in slave states unpleasant.

Perhaps there is nothing more remarkable in the character of the Americans than the indifference with which they leave their old habitations, friends, and relations. Each individual is taught to depend mainly on his own exertions, and therefore seldom expects or requires extraordinary assistance from any man. Attachments seldom exist here beyond that of ordinary acquaintances—these are easily found wherever one may go, arising from a variety of circumstances connected with their institutions and their necessities; and thus one of the great objections that present themselves to change with Europeans scarcely exists here. Observe, I apply this remark more particularly to the western and southern states; for the eastern states being longer settled and more thickly populated, these feelings, although they exist, yet they do so in a more modified degree.

The appearance presented by the forests at this season is very beautiful—the trees are covered with leaves of almost every colour, from bright crimson to nearly snow-white; the admixture of green, brown, yellow, scarlet, &c., such as is almost peculiar to an American forest, produces a very pleasing combination.

We again reached Albion, and retraced our steps from thence to Harmony, where we deposited our friend B——; and after having remained there for a few days to refresh ourselves and horse, set forward for Ohio. The weather had now become unfavourable, and the frequent rains and high winds were shaking the leaves down in myriads—the entire of our journey through Indiana being across forests, we were under one constant shower of leaves from Harmony to Cincinnati.

One day while getting our horse fed at a tavern in Indiana, the following conversation took place between the persons there assembled. We were sitting at the door, surrounded by captains, lawyers, and squires, when one of the gentlemen demanded of another if there had not been a "gouging scrape" at the "Colonel's tavern" the evening before. He replied in the affirmative; and after having related the cause of quarrel, and said that the lie had been given, he continued, "the judge knocked the major right over, and jumped on to him in double quick time—they had it rough and tumble for about ten minutes—Lord J—-s Alm——y!—as pretty a scrape as ever you see'd—the judge is a wonderfully lovely fellow." Then followed a description of the divers punishments inflicted by the combatants on each other—the major had his eye nearly "gouged" out, and the judge his chin almost bitten off. During the recital, the whole party was convulsed with laughter—in which we joined most heartily.

We of course returned by a different route through Indiana, passing from Princeton to Portersville, and from thence through Paoli, Salem, and New Lexington, to Madison. The country about Madison is hilly and broken, which makes travelling tedious in the extreme. From the mouth of the Big Miami to Blue river, a range of hills runs parallel to the Ohio, alternately approaching to within a few perches of the river, and receding to a distance of one to two miles. Below Blue river the hills disappear, and the land becomes level and heavily timbered. There is also another range of hills, extending from the Falls of Ohio to the Wabash in a south-westerly direction, which are called the "knobs:" to the west of these are the "flats;" and from the Wabash to lake Michigan the country is champaign.

Indianopolis is the capital of Indiana, and is seated on the White river. This state averages about 270 miles from north to south, and 144 miles from east to west: area, 37,000 square miles, or 23,680,000 acres. The population in 1810, was 24,520—in 1820, 147,178: white males, 79,919; white females, 69,107; slaves, 190; militia in 1821, 14,990. The present population is 341,582.

Vast quantities of hogs are bred in the state of Indiana, and are suffered to rove at large in the forests in search of mast. They are in general perfectly wild, and when encountered suddenly bristle up like an enraged porcupine. Their legs are long; bodies thin; and tail lengthy and straight. I was informed that if one of those animals be wounded, its screams will draw an immense concourse of its brethren around it, and that the situation of a person under these circumstances, is by no means void of danger; as they will not fail to attack him en masse. We were once very nigh getting into a scrape of this description. Driving along through the forest, we had to pass a tract covered with a thick growth of brushwood—my friend seeing something stirring among the bushes, drew up, and taking it for a deer, called out to me to fire—I stood up in the vehicle, and levelled where I saw the movement, when, lo! out starts a bristling hog, with a grunt just in time to escape with a whole skin.

One night having been accidently separated from my fellow-traveller, I had to stay in a miserable-looking hut close to a creek, the habitation of a backwoodsman. This person's appearance was extremely unprepossessing. The air of ferocity and wildness which characterized his countenance, added to his unhealthy, cadaverous aspect, would have been sufficient in any other country to make one feel unpleasant at passing the night alone under his roof. He resided in this unhealthy situation, because the land was extremely fertile; but stated that every fall some one of his family was ill, and none of them enjoyed good health. Now when we summed up the consequent loss of labour incident to ill health, the balance of profit seemed to be greatly against bottom land, and much in favour of the healthful prairies.

The farmers use, almost exclusively, the sugar of the maple (acer saccharinum) which they manufacture themselves. The space in which a number of these trees are found, they call a "sugar camp." The process of manufacturing is as follows:—After the first frost, the trees are tapped, by perforating the trunk in an ascending direction. A spout of alder is inserted in the perforation, and the sap drips through this conduit into a trough of wood. The sap is then boiled with a spoonful of slacked lime, the white of an egg or two, and about a pint of milk, to every fifteen gallons. An ordinary tree commonly gives four pounds of good coarse brown sugar, which when refined can be made equal to superior lump sugar.

A great portion of the roads through which we passed were mere horse paths, full of stumps, with shrubs entangled across them so thickly, that we were often obliged to dismount in order to cut away part of the impediment. Large trees which have fallen across the road, frequently intercept your passage, and you have no alternative but to lift the wheels of the vehicle over them.

As we approached Cincinnati the difficulty of travelling became greatly augmented. The rains had cut up the roads into ravines, sometimes full three feet in depth, which, added to the clayey nature of the soil, completely exhausted the horse, and rendered him incapable of proceeding faster than a slow walk, even with the empty carriage.

There are a number of Baptists residing at Cincinnati, who frequently entertain the inhabitants with public baptisms in the Ohio river. At one of those ceremonies, about this time, rather a ludicrous occurrence took place. The baptizing preacher stands up to his middle in the water, and the person to be baptized is led to him by another preacher. On this occasion the officiating clergyman was rather a slight man, and the lady to be baptized was extremely large and corpulent—he took her by the hands to perform the immersion, but notwithstanding his most strenuous exertions, he was thrown off his centre. She finding him yield, held still harder, until they both sowsed completely under the water, where they lay floundering and struggling for some time, amidst the shouts and laughter of the multitude assembled on shore. At length their brethren extricated them from this perilous situation.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] M. Duponceau adduces the following examples: "In the Arancanian language the word 'idnancloclavin' means 'I do not wish to eat with him.' There is a similar verb in the Delaware tongue—'n'schingiwipona,' which means 'I do not like to eat with him.' To which may be added another example in the latter tongue—'machtitschwanne,'—this must be translated 'a cluster of islands with channels every way, so that it is in no place shut up, or impassable for craft.' This term is applied to the islands in the bay of New York."



CHAPTER VII.

The weather having become cold and disagreeable towards the latter end of December, I set out for New Orleans. The larger class of steam-boats lay then at Shippingsport, immediately below the falls of Ohio, the river not being sufficiently high to enable them to pass over those rapids. Boats drawing from nineteen to twenty-six inches water can almost at all seasons ply on the Upper Ohio, and during the periods that the large boats are detained below the Falls, they are constantly employed in transporting produce, intended for the markets on the Mississippi, to Louisville, from whence it is drayed round to Shippingsport and re-shipped. Flat-boats are also employed for this purpose, and they are preferred, as they pass over the Falls, and thus land-carriage is avoided.

Louisville is the chief town of Jefferson county, in Kentucky, and at present it is estimated to contain about 12,000 inhabitants, including slaves and free people of colour. The store-keepers here are more wealthy than those of Cincinnati, and their manners less disagreeable. The inhabitants of the latter town being mostly from the New England states, have in their dealings and manners that dry shrewdness which is the true Yankee characteristic. There are also located in Cincinnati some Irish pedlars, who have by all manner of means acquired wealth, and are now the "biggest bugs"[9] in the place.

The public buildings of Louisville are few, and the streets are laid out in the usual style, crossing each other at right angles. It contains a few good brick dwelling-houses, and a number of excellent hack-carriages are stationed near the steam-boat landing. A canal round the Falls, from Beargrass-creek to Shippingsport, is being constructed, which will enable steam-boats of the largest tonnage to pass through; and thus it will open an uninterrupted intercourse between the Upper and Lower Ohio, and the Mississippi. The length of this canal is about two and a half miles, and the original estimate was 200,000 dollars, but this sum has been found insufficient.

At Louisville I took a berth on board a boat for New Orleans. The steam-boats on the Mississippi are large, and splendidly appointed; the interior has more the appearance of a well fitted up dining-room than the cabin of a boat. The charge is twenty-five dollars, for which you are found in every thing except liquors. Meats, fowls, vegetables, fruits, preserves, &c., are served in abundance, and of the very best quality. Here you may see tradesmen, "nigger traders," farmers, "congress men," captains, generals, and judges, all seated at the same table, in true republican simplicity. There is no appearance of awkwardness in the behaviour of the humblest person you see seated at those tables; and indeed their general good conduct is remarkable—I mean when contrasted with that of the same class in England. The truth is, the tradesman here finds himself of some importance in the scale of society, and endeavours to show that he is fully qualified to be seated at the same table, en passant, with the most wealthy citizen. No doubt the higher classes have some of that high polish rubbed off by these occasional contacts with their less-civilized fellow citizens; but the humbler classes decidedly gain what they lose. All dress well, and are American gentlemen.

The Ohio is formed by the junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers at Pittsburg, that town being seated in the fork—its breadth there, is between eight and nine hundred yards. From the mouths of those two rivers it narrows and deepens for some distance; but afterwards, from the accession of the many tributary streams by which it is supplied, gradually becomes wider and deeper, until it empties itself into the Mississippi. The length of the Ohio, following its meanders, is about 950 miles, and it may be said to be navigable almost the entire year, as the water must be unusually low when the smaller steam-boats cannot ply to Pittsburg. The character of this river is somewhat peculiar. But for the improvements on the banks, when you have seen six or eight miles of this stream, you are acquainted with the remainder as far as the Falls—that is to say, any variety that may be in the scenery will occur in any given six miles from Pittsburg to that point. Below Louisville there are one or two rocky bluffs, and the face of the country is somewhat different. The channel of the Upper Ohio lies between hills, which frequently approach the mamelle form, and are covered with a heavy growth of timber. Where the hills or bluffs do not rise immediately from the river, but recede some distance, the space between the river and the hill is called bottom land, from the circumstance of its being overflown annually; or having at some former period formed part of the river's bed, which is indicated by the nature of the soil. The bluffs and bottoms invariably alternate; and when you have bluffs on one side, you are sure to have bottom on the other. The windings are extremely uniform, with few exceptions, curving in a serpentine form in so regular a manner, that the Indians always calculated the distance by the number of bends.