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Schoolcraft's Journal |
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Springfield-Greene County History |
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Schoolcraft's Journal |
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Springfield-Greene County History |
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Local History Website of the SMSU Department of History |
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Henry R. Schoolcraft, Journal of a Tour into the Interior of Missouri and Arkansaw, from Potosi, or Mine a Burton, in Missouri Territory, in a South-West Direction, toward the Rocky Mountains, Performed in the Years 1818 and 1819. London: Richard Phillips and Company, 1821 [Complete Version. Original spelling has been retained.] Potosi, Thursday, 5th Nov. 1818 I begin my tour where other travellers have ended theirs, on
the confines of the wilderness, and at the last village of white inhabitants,
between the Mississippi river and the Pacific Ocean. I have passed down the
valley of the Ohio, and across the state of Illinois, in silence! I am now at
the mines of Missouri, at the village of Mine à Burton, (now called Potosi,) and surrounded by its
mineral hills and smoking furnaces. Potosi is the seat of justice for Washington
county, Missouri territory, and is situated forty miles west of St Genevieve,
and about sixty south-west of St. Louis, the capital. It occupies a delightful
valley, of small extent, through which a stream of the purest water meanders,
dividing the village into two portions of nearly equal extent. This valley is
bordered by hills of primitive limestone, rising in some places in rugged peaks;
in others, covered with trees, and grouped and interspersed with cultivated
farms, in such a manner as to give the village a pleasing and picturesque
appearance. It contains seventy buildings, exclusive of a court-house, a jail,
an academy, a post-office, one saw, and two grist mills, and a number of
temporary buildings necessary in the smelting of lead. In its vicinity is found
a considerable tract of very fertile land, and a lively interest is manifested
to the pursuits of agriculture; but the trade of Potosi is chiefly in lead,
which is, in a great degree, the medium of exchange, as furs and peltries
formerly were in certain parts of the Atlantic states. Very great quantities of
lead are annually made at this place, and waggoned across the country to the
banks of the Mississippi, a distance of forty miles, for shipment. It is
estimated that, from the year 1798 to 1816, 9,360,000 pounds of lead were
smelted here. There are about forty mines in this vicinity. The price of lead is
4 per cwt. in the pig. The ore
worked is galena, or sulphuret of lead, which is found in abundance, and smelts
very easily, yielding from sixty to seventy per cent of metallic lead in the
large way. It is found in alluvial soil, along with sulphate of barytes,
radiated quartz, and pyrites, and also in veins in primitive limestone. Friday, Nov. 6th Having completed the necessary preparations, I left Potosi at
three o'clock, P.M., accompanied by Mr. Levi Pettibone, being both armed with
guns, and clothed and equipped in the manner of the hunter, and leading a
pack-horse, who carried our baggage, consisting of skins to cover us at night,
some provisions, an axe, a few cooking utensils, etc. On walking out of the
village of Potosi, on the south-west, we immediately commenced ascending a
series of hills, which are the seat of the principal mines, winding along among
pits, heaps of gravel, and spars, and other rubbish constantly accumulating at
the mines, where scarcely ground enough has been left undisturbed for the safe
passage of the traveller, who is constantly kept in peril by unseen excavations,
and falling-in pits. The surface of the mine-hills is, in fact, completely
perforated in all directions, although most of the pits have not been continued
more than twenty or thirty feet below the surface, where the rock has opposed a
barrier to the further progress of the miner. On reaching the summit of these
hills, we turned to survey the beautiful prospect behind us, the valley of
Potosi, with its village and stream, the cultivated fields on its borders, the
calcareous hills crowned with oaks beyond, with the distant furnaces smoking
through the trees, and the wide-spread ruins at our feet. A deep blue sky hung
above us; the atmosphere was clear and pure, with a gentle breeze from the
south-west, which, passing through the dried leaves of the trees, scattered them
over the valley we had left, and murmured a pensive farewell. We turned to
pursue our way with such feelings as many travellers have experienced on turning
their backs upon the comforts and endearments of life, to encounter fatigue,
hard fare, and danger. On travelling three miles from this spot, we arrived at a
deserted Indian cabin on the banks of a small stream called Bates' Creek, where
we determined to encamp for the night. Saturday, Nov. 7th
As we are unacquainted with the hunter's art of travelling in
the woods, we shall necessarily encounter some difficulties from our want of
experience, which a hunter himself would escape. We find it necessary to gain a
knowledge of things, of which we before knew nothing, and in which we had not
any experience, such is the art of hobbling a horse properly, with safety to
ourselves, and without injury to him-the best method of building a camp fire-how
to cook a piece of venison, or boil a pot of coffee, etc. Such are now the
objects which will engross our daily attention, and to excel in which becomes a
point of ambitious exertion. An instance of our inexperience in these
particulars occurred this morning. Our horse, owing to a defect in hobbling,
went astray during the night, and we consumed the day until 10 o'clock, in
hunting him up, when we repacked our baggage, and continued our way in a
south-west direction toward the Fourche à Courtois. After travelling fourteen miles, the day
being nearly spent, we arrived at an inhabited cabin, and obtained permission to
remain for the night. Our path this day has lain across an elevated ridge of
land, covered with yellow pine, and strewed with fragments of sandstone, quartz,
and a species of coarse flinty jasper, the soil being sterile, and the
vegetation scanty. The weather has been mild, and very pleasant for the season,
with an unclouded sky, and light breeze from the south-west. General course of
travelling west-south-west. Distance, fourteen miles. Sunday, Nov. 8th In travelling two miles this morning, we found ourselves on
the banks of the Fourche à
Courtois, a considerable stream, and one of the principal tributaries of the
Merrimack river. The Fourche à Courtois originates in high lands
near the head of the river St. Francis, and after running in a serpentine course
for sixty miles, through a sterile country, unites with the Merrimack 100 miles
from its mouth. Its banks, at the lace we crossed, afford some very rich lands,
but they do not extend far, consisting merely of a strip of alluvion running
parallel with the river, and bordered by hills, whose stony aspect forbids the
approach of the fanner. On this stream are settled several persons, who divide
their time between hunting and farming. The district of tillable land is much
more extensive, however, than has generally been supposed, and is capable of
supporting a considerable population, which will, eventually enhance the
agricultural character and importance of that part of Washington county. We had
proceeded but a short distance beyond the Fourche à Courtois, when the barking of dogs
in a contiguous forest, announced our approach to a hunter's cabin, where we
halted to inquire respecting the Indian trace to the country of the Osages,
which we were informed ran in the direction we were travelling, and might be
pursued for sixty or seventy miles with advantage. The owner of the cabin was
not himself in when we first arrived, but his wife very readily gave us every
information respecting the direction of the trace, the streams we were to cross,
the game we might expect to find for our subsistence, and other particulars,
evincing a perfect acquaintance with the subject, adding, that it was dangerous
travelling in that quarter on account of the Osages, who never failed to rob and
plunder those who fell in their way, and often carried them in captivity to
their villages, on the Grand Osage river. She said her husband had contemplated
going out on a hunt into that quarter for several days, but was fearful of going
alone lest he should fall in with a party of those Indians; but she thought he
would be willing to accompany us a part of the way, and advised us to await his
return from the woods, as he had only gone a short distance to kill some turkey.
While we were waiting his return, she continued to repeat several incidents of
robberies and murders committed by the Osages, and unusual hardships which had
been encountered in the woods by her husband and others. She told us, also, that
our guns were not well adapted to our journey; that we should have rifles; and
pointed out some other errors in our dress, equipments, and mode of travelling,
while we stood in astonishment to hear a woman direct us in matters which we had
before thought the peculiar and exclusive province of men. While thus engaged
the husband entered, and readily agreed to our proposal, to accompany us toward
White River, where he represented the game to exist in great abundance. In a few
moments he was ready. Putting three or four large cakes of corn-bread in a sack,
and shouldering a rifle, he mounted his horse, and we all set forward together,
mutually pleased with the reciprocal benefits expected from travelling in
company. Our path, for the first four miles, lay across a succession of sterile
ridges, thinly covered with oaks, when we suddenly descended into the valley of
the Osage Fork of the Merrimack, a stream equal in size to the Fourche à Courtois, and having extensive
prairies all along its banks. On this stream we passed through a small village
of Delaware Indians, who are now all out hunting, except the old men, women, and
children. Four miles below the spot where we crossed this stream, is situated a
large village of the Shawanees, and three miles above is another settlement of
Delawares. On leaving the valley of Osage Fork, we immediately entered
on a hilly barren tract, covered with high grass, and here and there clumps of
oak-trees. Soil poor, and covered with fragments of jaspery flint, horn-stone,
quartz, and detached masses of carbonate of lime. Such, indeed, has been the
character of the small stones under foot from Potosi, but the ledges breaking
out on hill sides have uniformly been limestone, stratum upon stratum. We encamped after dark in a small valley near a spring.
Distance eleven miles. Monday, Nov. 9th The sleep of the hunter is not sound, neither is his
vigilance to be eluded; and the anxiety he is kept in, from the fear of the
Indian on the one hand, and the approach of wild animals on the other, produces
constant wakefulness during the night. His horse and baggage also demand
occasional notice during the darkness of night, and he lies down with his rifle
in his arms, to be prepared for emergencies. An instance of this vigilance
occurred last night, and prevented a loss which would, in our situation, have
been irreparable. Our packhorse, who, as usual, was turned loose to graze,
accompanied by that of the hunter, strayed off from our camp, but was not long
gone, when missed by Roberts, (the hunter) who awoke me, and we pur- sued, and
overtook them about three miles off, and brought them back to camp before
day-light. All this serves to increase our caution; and the farther we proceed,
the more serious would be any loss we might sustain, either in our horse, guns,
locks, ammunition, or any other article necessary to our safety or subsistence.
During the night we had several times been disturbed by the approach of elk and
deer, and as soon as the day dawned, Roberts went out a short distance and
killed a fine fat doe, which he brought in on his shoulders, and we made a
breakfast, for the first time, on roasted deer's meat, with appetites sharpened
by exercise, which, while it invigorates the body, as we experience, increases
its alimentary capacities. Our route this day has been over barrens and
prairies, with occasional forests of oak, the soil poor, and covered with grass,
with very little under-brush. As evening approached we entered the valley of
Merrimack, which we followed up for several miles, and encamped in a prairie
near its source. Some good bottom lands are found on its banks, but the
adjoining hills are stony and barren, covered with little timber and high grass.
Within a mile of its banks, on the Indian trace, we passed over large beds of
iron ore, accompanied by the black oxyd of manganese, specimens of which I take
along. The Merrimack is the only considerable stream which enters the
Mississippi on the west from the mouth of the Missouri to the mouth of St.
Francis, a distance of nearly 500 miles. It is 200 miles in length, and joins
the Mississippi, eighteen miles below St. Louis, where it is 200 yards in width.
Its depth is not great, being only navigable fifty miles with common-sized
boats, except in the spring and fall, when its principal tributaries may be
ascended. It waters the country of the lead-mines, and affords some facilities
for the transportation of lead to the Mississippi, which do not appear to be
generally known or appreciated, and have not been improved.
The weather this day has been mild and pleasant, with a light
breeze from the south-west, and a smoky atmosphere.
Course of travelling south-west, until we struck the Merrimack; then
due-south, to the place of our encampment. Distance eighteen miles. Tuesday, Nov 10th We packed our horse this morning at day-light,
notwithstanding the rain which commenced last evening, and continued at
intervals during the night. On travelling about ten miles, we left the Osage
trace, which began to diverge too far north, and struck through the woods in a
south course, with a view of reaching a large saltpetre cave known to exist in
that quarter. Shortly after we quit the Indian trace, Roberts, who was in
advance on our left about half-a-mile, fired at, and killed a deer, and
immediately reloaded his rifle, pursued, and fired again, telling us to
continue, as he could easily, being on horseback, overtake us. We accordingly
pursued our route until night, and are now encamped on the banks of a small
lake, in a prairie containing several small ponds or lakes, not having yet been
rejoined by our hunter. One of the greatest inconveniences we experience in
travelling in this region, arises from the difficulty of finding, at the proper
time, a place of encampment affording wood and water, both of which are
indispensable. On this account we find it prudent to encamp early in the
afternoon, when we come to a spring of good water, with plenty of wood for fire,
and grass for our horse; and, on the contrary, are compelled to travel late at
night in order to find them. This is a difficulty which attends us this evening,
having been compelled to stop in an open prairie, where wood is very scarce, and
the water bad-general course of travelling south-weather pleasant, the rain
having ceased shortly after day-light. Lands poor; trees, oaks; game observed,
deer and elk. Distance twenty miles. Wednesday, Nov. 11th While lying before our camp-fire last night, the wolves set
up their howling, apparently within 200 yards of us. We had already been long
enough in the woods, and were sufficiently conversant with the hunter life, to
know that this animal will only attack men in cases of the most extreme hunger;
and as we knew their common prey, the deer, was abundant in that quarter, we had
little apprehension for our safety. We thought it prudent, however, to be on the
watch; a thing, indeed, which we did almost every night, particularly when the
cold was such as to render it necessary to keep up a fire. In these cases we
slept and watched alternately, as well from a regard to safety as to mend our
fire. Such, however, was the fatigue of a day's long march, that we both fell
into a sound sleep for the greater part of the night, and found our fire nearly
out, and ourselves chilled with cold when we awoke, the wolves being still on an
adjacent hill. A short time before day-light we arose, renewed our fire, and
prepared breakfast, and commenced our journey at an early hour, holding a south
course across the prairie of Little Lakes. At the distance of two miles we
passed a stream running south-east, and originating in the prairie of lakes.
Ducks are in great plenty on this stream as well as upon the lakes. I take this
to be the origin of Black River. Our route lay for the first eight miles across
a barren prairie country, with little wood and no water; we then entered into
lofty forests of pine, and after winding along through valleys and deep defiles
of rocks for several miles, found ourselves on the banks of Current's River, in
a deep and romantic valley, the soil rich, and covered with a heavy growth of
trees. Current's River is one of the principal tributaries of Black
River, and is a stream of 250 miles in length, and affords, in its whole course,
extensive bodies of fertile land. Near its junction with Black River, about 200
miles below, are several settlements, and a ferry is kept ten miles above its
mouth, where the Arkansaw road crosses it, and where a town is in contemplation.
The waters of this stream are very clear and pure, and ducks are very common
upon it. The wild turkey and grey squirrel are also seen on its banks. Five
miles beyond Current's, night overtook us, and we encamped on the banks of a
creek, near Ashley's salt-petre cave, in a dark, narrow, and lonesome little
valley, where the rocks hung in terrific piles above our heads. Course of
travelling south-west. Weather mild and smoky. Distance twenty miles. Thursday, Nov. 12th We find ourselves in a highly interesting section of country,
and which affords some of the most picturesque and sublime views of rural
scenery which I have ever beheld. The
little brush camp we hastily erected last night, and in which I now write, is
situated in a beautiful valley, on the banks of a small clear stream, with a
rocky and gravelly bottom. The width of this valley is about 800 yards, and is
bounded on the west by a perpendicular wall of limestone rock 200 feet in
height, and rising in some places in cubical masses, resembling the mouldering
towers of some antique ruin. On the east the bluffs are neither so high nor
precipitous, and are intersected by hollows worn out of the rock by the action
of rain operating, for many centuries, on calcareous rock. Down one of these
hollows we descended into the valley, not, however, without leading our horse in
the most cautious and circuitous manner. The top of these bluffs supports a
substratum of a very sterile, gravelly alluvion, and is covered by tall pines,
which add much to the beauty of the prospect from the valley below. In the
stupendous wall of rocks before me are situated several caves, whose dark and
capacious mouths indicate their extent. Many of these, however, cannot be
visited without ladders, as they are situated forty or fifty feet above the
level of the creek. With considerable difficulty and labour we entered one of
them, by means of a large oak which had fallen partly against the mouth of the
cave. We found it a spacious chamber, connected with others of less size, and
affording both stalactites, and stalagmites. The former hang like icicles from
the roof in various fanciful forms, and some specimens which we succeeded in
detaching were translucent, and exhibited much beauty and regularity in the
arrangement of their colours, consisting of concentric lines of yellow and brown
passing by imperceptible shades into each other.
We also obtained in this cave native salt-petre, very white and
beautiful. It was found filling small crevices in the rock. The number of caves
which we have this day visited, large and small, is seven, and all afford salt-petre.
In the largest of these, great quantities of this article are annually collected
and manufactured by Col. Ashley, of Mine à
Burton,
and transported to his powder-manufactory, in Washington county. The cavernous
nature of the country bordering this stream is one of its most distinguishing
characteristics, and I have seized upon this fact in calling it Cave Creek. This
little stream is one of the most interesting objects in the natural physiognomy
of the country, which we have thus far met with, and affords a striking instance
of that wonderful arrangement in the physical construction of the surface of the
earth, which gives vallies to the smallest streams, and tears asunder rocks to
allow them passages into rivers, and through them into their common basin, the
ocean. Its banks rise in majestic walls of limestone, which would form the most
ample barrier to the waves of the sea, and they occasionally rise into peaks,
which if located on the coast of the ocean, would be hailed as landmarks by the
mariner. The Opposite banks correspond with general exactness in their curves,
height, composition, and thickness of strata, and other characters evincing
their connexion at a former period. Yet the only object apparently effected by
the separation of such immense strata of rocks, a change which I cannot now
contemplate without awe and astonishment, is to allow a stream of twenty yards
across a level and undisturbed passage into the adjacent river, the Currents,
which it joins, after winding in the most circuitous manner about four miles
below. In the course of this distance, the views which are presented are
commanding and delightful, and to the painter who wishes to depict the face of
nature in its wildest aspect of rocky grandeur, I could recommend this valley,
and the adjacent county, as one of unrivalled attractions. A scene so full of
interest could not fail to receive the homage of our admiration, and we rambled
about the country, until night almost imperceptibly approached, when we returned
to our camp, repacked our horse, and moved up the valley of Cave Creek, one mile
to Ashley Cave, in which we encamped safe from the weather, turning our horse
loose to feed about its mouth. We had just built our night-fire as it became
dark, and while I spread out our skins and prepared for sleep, Mr. P. boiled our
accustomed pot of coffee, and got ready a supper, which, although not consisting
of many dishes, or choice cookery, excited our most cordial approbation, and we
partook of it with that keen appetite, and that feeling of lordly independence,
which are alone felt by the wild Indian, and the half-starved Missouri
hunter. Having finished our frugal meal, we determined to explore the cave
before we lay down, lest some beast of prey, hid in its recesses, should be
aroused by our intrusion, and pounce upon us during the night. This cave is situated in a high wall of lime-stone rock,
forming the southern bank of Cave Creek, eighty miles south-west of Potosi, and
near the head of Current's River, one of the principal tributaries of Black
River, in Missouri territory. The entrance to it is by a winding foot-path from
the banks of the creek, and leads to the mouth of the cave at an elevation of
about fifty feet above the level of the water. Its mouth is about ninety feet
wide and thirty in height, a size which, without great variation, it holds for
two hundred yards. Here it suddenly opens into a room which is an irregular
circle, with a height of eighty or ninety feet, and a diameter of three hundred,
having several passages diverging from it in various directions. The two largest
passages lead south-west and south, and after winding along a considerable
distance, in the course of which they are successively widened and narrowed,
unite and lead on in a south course about five hundred yards, where the passage
is choaked up by large masses of stalactite, formed by the water which has
filtered through the superincumbent rock at that place. The largest passage from
the circular amphitheatre of the cave diverging north, opens by another mouth in
the rock, facing the valley of Cave Creek, at no great distance below the
principal mouth by which we entered. Several smaller passages diverge from each
of the main ones, but cannot be followed to any great extent, or are shut up by
fragments of the fallen rock. Near the centre of the largest opening, a handsome spring of
clear water issues, from which we procured our water while encamped in the cave.
The ragged faces and hanging position of many parts of the
sides and roof of this cave, added to its sombre colour, which has been
heightened by soot smoke, its great extent, singular ramifications, and the
death-like stillness which pervades such ample spaces situated so far below
ground, inspire both wonder and awe, and we did not return from our examination,
without feeling impressions in regard to our own origin, nature, and end, and
the mysterious connection between the Creator of these stupendous works and
ourselves, which many have before felt, but none have yet been satisfied about.
In contemplating this connection, we feel humiliated; human reason has no clue
by which the mystery may be solved, and we imperceptibly became silent, absorbed
in our own reflections. Such at least was the effect produced in this instance,
and we returned to trim our night-fire and go to sleep, with the taciturnity of
the American savage. Friday, Nov. 13th The atmosphere threatening rain this morning, we did not
think proper to quit the cave, and have divided our time between hunting,
mending our clothes, and noticing the geological character of the adjacent
region. In hunting large game we are not very successful; our guns, as we were
informed by the hunter's wife at Fourche à Courtois, not being adapted to killing deer and bear.
Of wild Turkey, ducks, and squirrels, we, however, kill a plenty, to answer our
purposes, and we do not seek anything further. The most remarkable fact
respecting the cave in which we are encamped, is the nitre which it yields. This
is found in the native state, filling small crevices in the rock, and also in
combination with the earth which forms the bottom of the cave. The nitre is
formed by mixing this earth with a certain quantity of wood ashes, and
lixiviating the whole in the common way by means of a tub and fasset. The potash
of the wood-ashes is necessary to enable the salt to form, and the whole is then
concentrated by boiling in a kettle, and afterwards set aside to cool and to
crystallize. In this way the crude nitre is obtained, which may be brought to
any required state of purity by redissolving and recrystallizing. The works which have been erected by Colonel Ashley for this
purpose are all situated in the mouth of the cave, so as to be completely
protected from the weather. No person is, however, here at the present to attend
to his business, and the works appear to have lain idle for some time. Large
quantities of crude salt-petre are lying in the fore part of the cave. The earth found in this cave, and which is now so highly
charged with nitrous salts, presents an extraordinary circumstance for the
consideration of the geologist, and one which must be conclusive in regard to
the antiquity of the cave itself. This earth is a mixture of clay and sand in
rather gross particles, but has sufficient tenacity to adhere in lumps when dug
up, and contains plentifully interspersed pebbles of quartz, slate, granite, and
other stones, and also fragments of horn-stone, or a kind of flint. It is in
fact precisely the same kind of earth, deposited in the same manner, and mixed
with the same stony substances, as the alluvion deposit which covers all the
adjoining hills, and has constituted the soil of all the uplands from Potosi;
nay, from the west banks of the Mississippi river to this place. The conclusion
is irresistible, that this cavity in the rock existed previous to the deposition
of the substratum of the soil upon the calcareous rock of this country, and,
consequently, previous to the existence of trees or vegetation of any kind,
unless it be of certain mosses and lichens which flourish upon naked rocks. And
that when this soil was deposited, the cave in which we now sit, a pre-existing
cavity in the rock, was also filled, partly or entirely, with the alluvion now
found in it. The greater part of this alluvion has been subsequently washed out,
and the cavity thus re-opened by water filtering through its calcareous roof,
leaving certain parts on the bottom, and huge piles in several places, not
situated in the current of the stream, remaining.
This operation has not, indeed, wholly ceased at the present time, for
the water is continually carrying down small particles of earth into the valley
below, and the effect must be more perceptible after violent or long-continued
rain, when the earth becomes soaked, and the infiltration of water is
consequently greatly increased. This opinion is further corroborated by observing that the
sides and the roof of the cave, and the several passages leading from it, are
water-worn, and full of smooth circular cavities like the rocky margin of the
sea, or the calcareous banks of a river, and evince the force of a more powerful
action than would probably be excited from any springs or streams which issue,
or have ever issued from the cave. It is highly probable, therefore, that these
impressions are oceanic, and existed previous to the cave's being filled with
alluvial earth, and were made by that deluge of water which geologists teach us
has repeatedly inundated the earth in its primeval ages, and which we have the
authority of Moses for declaring
did inundate the earth as late as the days of Noah. The geological character of the country in this vicinity is
secondary; the rock formations, far and wide, being secondary limestone, stratum
super-stratum. This has, indeed, characterized our route from Potosi to this
place, with the exception of a vein of sand-stone, which alternates with it near
the Fourche à
Courtois. Its mineralogical character has consequently presented a corresponding
uniformity, and the actual number of species and varieties of minerals found is
small. Ores of iron and manganese, pyrites, quartz, horn-stone, and jasper, are
the principal substances noticed. The last-mentioned mineral is found in the
west bank of Cave Creek, about a mile below our present encampment. It occurs as
a stratum below secondary limestone, by which it is overlayed to the thickness
of at least 100 feet. It is the striped variety, the colours being blue and
white, of various shades. Saturday, Nov. 14th A rain-storm which commenced during the night, has continued
with little intermission, all day, so that we have been confined to the cave.
Thus situated, beyond the boundaries of the civilized world, shut up in a dreary
cavern, without books to amuse the mind, or labour to occupy the body, we have
had ample leisure to reflect upon the solitude of our condition, and in
reverting to the scenes of polished life, to contrast its comforts, attractions,
and enjoyments, with the privations and danger by which we are surrounded. There
springs, however, a pleasure from our very regrets; we are pleased in reflecting
on scenes of former gratification; of lands that are distant, and of times that
are past; and the mind is insensibly led to hope for their repetition. We expect
much of the future time; we please ourselves with fond anticipations of joy, and
with proud hopes of wealth, power, or renown. Thus it is that the mind is never
in a state of satisfied repose, and the whole sum of human bliss is made up by
the recollections we borrow from the past, and the expectations we entertain of
the future. The present is never a season of happiness, which is a relative
enjoyment, and can only be estimated by its absence. Neither are our ideas of
this grand pursuit of our lives at all definite. Nothing can be more discordant
and contradictory than the different notions which different persons or people
have attached to the term happiness. One places it in wealth, another in power,
a third in splendour, and a fourth in the contempt of all. Perhaps the sum of
human bliss was as correctly estimated by the South Sea Indian, as it is
frequently done by his more enlightened European brethren.
A South Sea Indian becoming tired of life, put an end to it, by stabbing
himself to the heart. The deed excited universal horror, and the grief of his
family was uncontrolable. "Alas,"
cried a relative, "what evil spirit could have prompted him to this deed!
He was blessed beyond many of his countrymen. Had he not always plenty of
train-oil for his subsistence? Had he not a smooth white fish-bone, twelve
inches long, run through his nose? What more could be wanting to complete his
happiness?" We have been in the expectation, for several days, of being
joined by the hunter who accompanied us from the Fourche à Courtois, and who parted with us
on the lOth instant, in pursuit of a deer; but night has again over-taken us,
and we are again disappointed, from which it is concluded that he has either
been taken prisoner by the Osage Indians, or got lost in the woods. (This turned out to be the fact, as we learned upon
our return. Having got into a district of wood where deer were plenty, and
unwilling to lose the opportunity of killing them, although he wanted neither
their flesh or skins, for he could carry neither with him, he fired at, and
killed many, and pursued them a great distance from the spot where we parted,
and he was unable afterwards to find his way back. He wandered about nearly a
week in the woods in search of us, and at last accidently arrived at the saw
mills on the Gasconade river, the only settlement in that region, from which he
returned in safety to his house on the Fourche à Courtois.) Sunday, Nov. 15th This morning, the sky being clear, and the weather pleasant,
we left the cave, and resumed our journey toward the south-west. On quitting the
cave, our design was to turn immediately from the valley of the creek, but we
found the hills so precipitous, that we were compelled to pursue up the valley,
in a north-west course, for a considerable distance, before an opportunity for
leaving it presented. We now
entered on a high, rough, and barren tract of country, consisting of a
succession of ridges running nearly at right angles to the course we travelled,
so that for the first six miles we were continually climbing up slowly to the
tops of these lofty heights, or descending with cautious tread into the
intervening gulfs-an exercise which we found equally hazardous and fatiguing.
For this distance the soil was covered thinly with yellow pine, and shrubby
oaks, and with so thick a growth of under-brush as to increase, very much, the
labour of travelling. To this succeeded a high-land prairie, with little timber,
or underbrush, and covered with grass. We found the travelling upon it very
good, although it occasionally presented considerable elevation, and
inequalities of surface, and we pursued our way with a pace accelerated by the
reflection that we had emerged at last from the region of stony precipices and
brambled valleys, through which we had been tearing our way, at the two-fold
expense of great bodily fatigue, and such parts of our clothing as were not
buckskin. In calling this a high- land prairie, I am to be understood as meaning
a tract of high-land generally level, and with very little wood or shrubbery.
It is a level woodless barren covered with wild grass, and resembling the
natural meadows or prairies of the western country in appearance, but lacks
their fertility, their wood, and their remarkable equality of surface. In
travelling across such a district of country, we have found little to interest.
There are no prominent features in the physiognomy of the country to catch the
eye. There is no land-mark in perspective, to which, by travelling, we seem to
approach. The unvaried aspect of the country produces satiety. We travelled
diligently and silently. Now and then an oak stood in our path; sometimes a
cluster of bushes crowned the summit of a sloping hill; the deer frequently
bounded on before us; we sometimes disturbed the rabbit from its sheltering
bush, or were suddenly startled by the flight of a brood of quails; but there
was nothing else to interrupt the silence of our march, or, by exciting fresh
interest, to lighten its fatigue. The mineralogy of the country was wholly
uninteresting. Its geological character presented great uniformity, the rocks
being secondary lime-stone overlaying sand-stone. In travelling twelve miles we
came to the banks of a small stream, (the first running water seen since leaving
the cave,) and encamped upon its banks, just as night closed around. Distance
eighteen miles. Monday, Nov. 16th Nothing worthy of remark in the physical productions of the
country has this day been met with. The face of the country, soil, trees,
animals observed, and weather, have presented no character different from what
was noticed yesterday. We quit our encampment at early day-light, taking a due
south-west course by the compass. In travelling five miles we came to a stream,
running north-west, from which we conclude it is tributary to the Missouri. In
fording it, I observed the bottom to be a grey compact of sand-stone, while its
banks, in common with all the adjacent region, are secondary limestone. This
sand-stone appears to be, in fact, the rock upon which the great secondary
limestone formation of this country rests. It has appeared as the lowest stratum
in almost every high bluff, and forming the surface of almost every deep valley,
from the banks of the Mississippi at the cornice rock, a little below
Herculaneum, to the place of our present encampment, a distance in a south-west
course of about 150 miles. How far it extends south and west it is impossible to
say. Every appearance tends, however, to justify an opinion, that it reaches far
to the west, and that it overlays those primitive rocks which are supposed to
extend eastwardly from the rocky mountains.
Four miles beyond this stream we arrived on the banks of another, and a
larger stream, running also toward the north-west, and spent several hours in
attempting to cross it. We succeeded at last in getting our baggage and our
horse safely over, at the expense only of the time we had lost, and a handsome
wetting. Three miles farther brought us to the banks of the third stream, little
inferior in size to the one last passed, and winding off also in a general
course toward the north-west. Upon the banks of this stream we encamped for the
night, the afternoon being nearly spent, and feeling somewhat fatigued from the
labour of crossing so many streams, and tearing our way through the brush and
green-briar so thickly interwoven on their borders, while the intervening ridges
were little else but a pile of angular stones, with here and there an oak-tree,
set as if all the ingenuity of the stonemason had been exercised upon it.
When the Edinburgh Reviewer estimated that Louisiana only cost three
cents per acre, on the average of the whole number of square miles in the
territory, he probably had no idea that there was any part of it which could be
considered dear at that price. Yet, I think it would be money dearly expended in
the purchase of such lands as we have this day traversed. Distance twelve miles.
Tuesday, Nov. 17th We have been at a loss to know what river the streams we
yesterday passed are tributary. Their course shows them to belong to the
Missouri, through some of its lowermost southern tributary rivers. We conclude
ourselves too far south for the Gasconade, and that we have consequently fallen
upon the head waters of the Little Osage. This opinion is strengthened by the
distance we have travelled, and by our having previously passed what we
considered as the head waters of the Gasconade. If on the Little Osage we are
farther north than we wish, and, under this impression, we this morning altered
our course from south-west to south-south-west, which carried us directly up die
valley of the creek on which we encamped. In travelling two or three miles,
however, it bent off too far west, and we again entered upon the highlands. We
had not travelled far when we discovered, in a ravine below, four bears upon
trees. We have not heretofore sought to go out of our way for the pur- pose of
hunting, but this was directly in our course, and too fine an opportunity to
exercise our skill in hunter sport to be neglected. We accordingly determined to
give them battle. To prevent the effects of a fright, we tied our horse to a
sapling, and putting balls on top of the charge already in our fowling-pieces,
began cautiously to get within shooting distance. Unluckily we had no dog, and
as the country was open, the bears soon perceived us. The only hope now was to
run immediately to the foot of the trees to keep them up; but while attempting
this, they began, one after the other, to come down; my companion sprained his
ankle in running, and fell, while I arrived within fifty yards of the tree, and
had the mortification to snap my gun at the last one, just as he had gained the
foot of the tree. They fled across an adjacent ridge, and we in pursuit, but the
tall grass screened them from our sight; and, after spending an hour in
fruitless search, gave up the chase, returned to bring up our pack-horse, and
pursued our way, considerably fatigued by an adventure, in which the bears
certainly were victorious. The most serious evil, however, was to come.
Pettibone had sprained his ankle, but not conscious of the hurt at first, had
considerably inflamed it in the pursuit of the bear. He now began to feel its
effects, and in travelling two miles farther, the pain became so severe, that he
was unable to proceed, and we encamped in a valley, where we found both wood and
water, at about two o'clock in the afternoon. Distance six miles. Wednesday, Nov. 18th On our stopping yesterday to encamp, my first care, after
unpacking the horse and turning him loose to feed, was to erect a snug camp, for
I expected my companion would be confined several days by the hurt he had
received. The pain seemed intense, so that he was unable to stand. We were not
prepared for such an accident, our whole medicine-chest consisting of a box of
Lee's pills, and-some healing-salve. I recommended, however, the only thing I
thought might be beneficial that our travelling pack afforded. It was a solution
of common salt in warm water. With this we bathed the ankle, and bound it up
with flannel and buffaloe-skin. This done, and a good log-fire built in front of
the camp, he had all the physical aid which could be given; and, while he sought
repose on a bed of skins resting upon dry grass, I took my gun and strolled
about the valley within hearing of camp, with the view of killing some birds for
supper. This was in reality one of the most pensive moments I experienced in my
whole tour. The reflection that we should be confined a week or fortnight at
that spot, where there was not green herbage enough for our horse to subsist,
where there were neither deer or wild turkey, where there happened to be very
little wood contiguous to the camp, and which was, altogether, a most dreary and
desolate place; all this served to stamp the accident as a peculiar misfortune,
and my anxiety was increased, by the knowledge that we had not provisions enough
killed to last half that time; and by the fear that the inflammation, which was
severe, might terminate, through the want of medical aid, in a mortification,
and endanger his life. Such reflections obtruded themselves, while I sauntered
around on the desolate rocks overlooking our camp. The fact is, I killed
nothing, but was rejoiced on my return to find that the pain was not so violent.
He took a cup of strong coffee and a biscuit for supper, and after enjoying a
good night's rest, awoke in the morning, greatly improved. He could stand upon
his foot, and thought, by a different arrangement of our pack, he might ride the
horse, and continue our journey. That arrangement was accordingly made; and,
mounting the horse, he seated himself on the top of our blankets and skins, and
we bid adieu to our camp, with spirits as much exhilarated above the common
tune, as they had, the evening before, been depressed below it. Our course of
travelling was south-south-west, which carried us directly up the valley. We had
not, however, gone more than a mile when two bears were discovered, at no great
distance, playing with each other in the grass. We were, in fact, within
shooting distance, and had approached without exciting either notice or alarm.
Mr. P. for a moment forgot his pains, and dismounted to take a shot at them. We
each put an additional ball into our guns, and examined our priming; then taking
a deliberate aim, both fired at the same moment. Neither shot took effect, or if
wounded, they ran with their usual clumsiness over an adjoining hill, leaving us
the satisfaction of having shot at a bear. We now entered on a very elevated tract of land, barren in
appearance, but still covered with oaks, and rising one ridge above another,
until we had attained a very great elevation, and one which commanded the most
extensive prospect to the north and north-west; and, on gaining its summit, the
view was equally commanding to the south and south-east. This ridge appears to
be a favourite haunt for elk and bear, which have been frequently seen in our
path. The enormous size of the horns of the elk give that animal an appearance
of singular disproportion, but it has a stately carriage, and in running, by
throwing up its head, brings the horns upon its back, which would otherwise
incommode, if not entirely stop, its passage through a thicket. On descending
from this highland, we came upon the banks of a small stream running south, and
which originated in several springs in the valley which we have thus
accidentally struck. Presuming it to be a tributary of White River, we pursued
down its banks for about six miles and encamped. Distance eighteen miles.
Thursday, Nov. 19th The valley we are now in is bounded on each side by bluffs of
lime-stone, overlying sand-stone. The mineralogical character of the country has
been quite uninteresting since last noticed. From this spot we shall no longer
travel by the compass, but pursue the stream which I shall for the present call
Limestone River in all its windings down. This stream is wholly composed of
springs which gush at almost every step from its calcareous banks and it rapidly
assumes the character of a considerable river. The waters are very pure, cold,
and transparent. We have this day passed over some rich bottom lands covered
with elm, beech, oak, maple, sycamore, and ash. We have frequently driven the
deer from its covert; and the wild turkey, duck, and grey squirrel, have been
almost constantly in sight. General course south. Distance twelve miles. Friday, Nov. 20th Within a mile from our last night’s encampment, we met with
the first cane, and found new difficulties in forcing our way through it. Our
approach to a warmer climate is further indicated by several green plants which
we have not before noticed and particularly by the black haw, which we have this
day found in great perfection, notwithstanding the advanced season. The lands
continue to be that rich alluvion which is common to all the streams and vallies
of Missouri, and covered by a luxuriant growth of forest-timber, shrubs, vines,
cane, and green-briar, often so matted and interwoven together, that our
progress is not only retarded, but attended with great fatigue. The extent of
these bottoms is, however, small, and they are bordered by very high bluffs of
calcareous rock. In our progress, we have been continually breaking in upon the
retreats of those natural possessors of the soil, the bear and the deer. The
turkey, the duck, swan, prairie-hen, and squirrel, have also viewed us as
enemies, and fled at our approach. Such is the admirable power and foresight
with which the Creator has endowed every part of animated nature, for its own
conduct and preservation, that whether operating by instinctive impulse, as in
the deer or wild-fowl, or by a reasoning and comparing faculty as in man, the
effect is equally powerful, certain, and complete. The stream which we are pursuing is devious beyond all
example, and is further characterized by being made up wholly of springs, which
bubble up from the rocks along its banks. No tributary has, as yet, swelled its
current, either from the right or the left; but it continues visibly to increase
from the springs, some of which are of immense size, and all remarkable for the
purity of their waters. We have passed one of these springs to-day, which
deserves to be ranked among the natural phenomena of this region. It rushes out
of an aperture in a lime-stone rock, at least fifty yards across, and where it
joins the main river, about 1,000 yards below, is equal to it, both in width and
depth, the waters possessing the purity of crystal. I set my gun against a tree,
and unbuckled my belt, preparatory to a drink, and in taking a few steps towards
the brink of the spring, discovered an elk's horn of most astonishing size,
which I afterwards hung upon a limb of a contiguous oak, to advertise the future
traveller that he had been preceded by human footsteps in his visit to the
Elkhorn Spring. The difficulties we find in making our way down this valley,
especially with a horse, seem to increase with the size of the stream, and the
width of the valley; and if we formerly thought it wearisome in climbing over
stony ridges, we now find it laborious in breaking our way through thickets
bound together by grape-vines and green-briar, which are constantly either
entangling our horse's feet, or become so wound around our bodies, that we are
obliged to use a knife in cutting through. In breaking through one of these
thickets I lost my mineral hammer, a misfortune I shall have frequent cause to
regret, as it served both for detaching small specimens of such mineral bodies
as I found worthy of notice, and for occasionally putting a nail in the shoes of
our horse. The latter is, I confess, the only essay I have ever had occasion to
make in the farrier's art; but it is an attention dictated by humanity, and
which every traveller who makes long journeys across such stony and desolate
tracts, should be provided for. We encamped at dusk on the brink of the river,
on the skirts of an extensive cane-brake, more fatigued than we have been for
several days, and having only travelled a distance of twelve miles. General
course, south. Saturday, Nov. 21st The bottom-lands continue to improve both in quality and
extent, and growth of cane is more vigorous and green, and affords a nutritious
food our horse. The bluffs on each side of the valley continue, and are covered
by the yellow pine. At the distance of six miles below our last night's
encampment, the river receives its first tributary from the left in a stream of
a size nearly equal to itself, which enters at the foot of a very lofty bluff,
nearly at right angles, and the river below their junction is visibly increased
in size. The extreme limpidity of the water of this stream gives rise to a
species deception of which we have this day had a serious proof. It is so clear,
white and transparent, that the stones and pebbles in its bottom, at a depth of
eight or ten feet, are reflected through it with the most perfect accuracy as to
colour, size, and position, and at the same time appear as if within two or
three feet of the surface of the water. Its depth cannot, therefore, be judged
by the eye with any probability of that degree of exactness which can be had by
looking into common clear streams. The explanation of this phenomenon is
referable to the extreme degree of the purity of the water, which holds no fine
particles of earth in suspension, and admits the rays of light to pass through
it without being intercepted or refracted by those particles. In attempting to ford the river where the water appeared to
be two at most three feet deep, the horse suddenly plunged in below his depth,
and was compelled to swim across, by which our baggage got completely wetted.
Our tea, meal, salt, sugar, etc. was either greatly damaged, or entirely
spoiled; our skins, blankets, and clothing, were also soaked with water, and
such part of our powder as was not bottled shared the same fate. This proved a
serious misfortune, as our situation precluded the possibility of getting new
supplies. It was near night when this accident happened, and we immediately
encamped, and began to dry our effects, and save what was not wholly ruined, in
which we consumed a considerable part of the night. The weather continues mild
and pleasant. We have passed innumerable flocks of turkey in the course of this
day; also bear, deer, pigeon, duck, and squirrel. General course,
south-south-east. Distance twelve miles. Sunday, Nov. 22d The difficulties attending our process along the banks of the
river induced us this morning to take the highlands, where we found the
travelling much easier, both to ourselves and our horse. On quitting the valley
of the limestone we held a due-west course for about two miles, in order
completely to disengage ourselves from the pine-forest, the ravines, and the
brush, bordering the right bank of the river, when we found ourselves on an open
barren, with very little timber, or under-brush, and generally level. We now
altered our course to south-south-west, and travelled in a direct line fourteen
miles without meeting anything worthy of remark. We passed over a sterile soil,
destitute of wood, with gentle elevations, but no hills or cliffs, and no water.
The want of the latter we began sensibly to experience as night approached, and
entered a rocky valley bending towards the south-east in hopes of finding it.
Nothing could equal the sterility, or the rugged aspect of this valley, which
deepened rapidly as we went, and was nothing more than a dry channel scooped out
of a mass of rocks and stones, and seemed alike to forbid the expectation of
finding either wood, grass, or water. For two miles we pursued our way without
the prospect of finding a suitable place to encamp. Night was closing fast
around us, and as the sky darkened, the wind began to rise, and as it murmured
among the pines which crowned the high bluffs by which we were encompassed,
seemed to forbode that we were destined to pass a cheerless night. We almost
involuntarily stopped to survey the scene around us, and at this moment observed
a small spring of water trickling among the stones at our feet; and turning
toward its source, a cave in the rock, situated about midway up the bluff,
yawned before us. Elated with this sudden discovery, we immediately scrambled
up to explore it; found it habitable, with a spring issuing at its mouth, and
encamped. It was a spacious cave, and when we had kindled our fires, the
reflection of light upon its high and rugged roof, and the different apartments
into which it separated, produced an effect of aweful grandeur which it is
impossible to describe. The train of reflections in which we are apt to indulge
is not always the effect of a previous resolution, nor is it always within the
power of control; and while we partook of our frugal meal of dried venison,
bread, and water, we were almost imperceptibly drawn into a conversation on the
nature and objects of our journey, the hardships of the hunter's life, its
advantages and disadvantages, and comparison between savage and civilized
society. This carried us to other scenes, the land of our nativity, which seemed
dearer in being at a distance; the conversation dropped, and we spread our skins
and prepared for sleep. While the light alternately glared or faded upon the
terrific walls of the cave, I engraved the date of our visit with a knife upon a
smooth calcareous rock, and transcribed from my journal a part of the following
inscription, previously penciled for the purpose: O thou, who, clothed with magical spell, Monday, Nov. 23d Our horse was turned loose last night with the poorest
prospect of picking up a meal than he has yet experienced, and we had our fears
that the sterility of the country would induce him to stray off. In this we were
not disappointed, and spent the greater part of the forenoon in looking him up.
We then followed down the valley about three miles, and came to the banks of the
stream we had the day before left. A considerable change in the face of the
country has taken place. Instead of rich bottoms, we have a high oak-prairie.
The perpendicular bluffs, and the pine, have also disappeared, and in their
place we have long sloping hills, covered by oaks. The stream has also visibly
increased in size, and is now deep enough to float a keel-boat of twenty tons
burthen. Thinking it had received a considerable tributary from the left bank,
at no great distance above, we tied our horse, and pursued up several miles, but
were mistaken. On returning, we followed down about three miles, and encamped on
the banks of the river. Distance ten miles. We have observed little game to-day;
the weather continues pleasant. Tuesday, Nov. 24th Got our horse packed at day-light, and travelled down the
river's bank fourteen miles, and encamped. Lands chiefly poor; some bottoms of a
second quality, but very narrow, and hemmed in by rocks and hills. The river has
to-day, about seven miles below our encampment, received a tributary from the
right bank; and, a little below, another from the left. A singular circumstance
was noticed at the former. It enters the river in a direction contrary to that
of the current of the water, and with such velocity that it maintains its course
for many yards up stream, until the opposing current overpowers and turns it
downward. A little below the junction of these streams we passed
several Indian camps, but all in a state of decay, and bearing the appearance of
having been deserted three or four years. These are the first traces of savage
life (save some hacks apparently made with hatchets in saplings, noticed
yesterday and to-day,)which we have seen since leaving the Fourche à Courtois. Several causes have
induced the Indians to relinquish hunting in this quarter, and principally their
wars among themselves, which have kept them in mutual fear of each other.
Lately, the Indian title has been extinguished by purchase by the United States,
and this stream will no longer be included in their hunting-grounds. It was
claimed by the Osages. The inducements for hunting are, however, great; and large
quantities of bear, deer, elk, and beaver skins, might be collected. I had an
opportunity this day, while travelling across a very rocky bank of the river, to
observe two large and beautiful beavers who were sporting in water. They
afterwards came out and sat upon a rock, occasionally changing positions, and
evincing great dexterity and quickness in their movements. They were within
shooting distance, but I reserved my fire a few moments to observe their
motions, when suddenly they darted into their holes. The wild turkey has also
been very abundant to-day, and the ducks and geese upon the river. Distance
fourteen miles. Wednesday, Nov. 25th The quality of the lands passed over to-day has, in general,
been sterile, with, little timber. A few strips of good bottom lands have
intervened. In travelling ten miles, on descending the slope of a long hill, we
descried at its foot a large cabin, covered with split board, and were elated
with the idea of finding it inhabited by a white hunter. On coming up, however,
we were disappointed. It had apparently been deserted about a year, or eighteen
months. We could not, however, resist the comfortable shelter it afforded from
the weather, and encamped in it at an early hour in the afternoon. The site had
been chosen with the sagacity of a hunter. A stream ran in front; on the back
was a thick and extensive forest; and a large cane-brake commenced near one side
of it, and extended to the banks of the river, so that it afforded great
facilities for procuring the three great requisites for encampment, wood, water,
and horse-feed. On going to the river, we are surprised to find it considerably
enlarged. It is as wide at this place as the Muskingum at Marietta, and probably
affords as much water at this season of the year. The weather continues mild.
Distance ten miles. Thursday, Nov. 26th The great width of the river, which appears to have suddenly
increased, induced us to believe we were upon White River, and that the stream
we have been following has discharged its waters some miles above, where the
thickness of the cane and brush rendered it impossible to travel near the
river's bank. To ascertain this point I went back about five miles, and took a
circuit into the country on the opposite side of the river, but found our
conjecture unfounded, no stream of any size coming in at that place. It is necessary here to note, that we have for several days
been in the expectation of striking the hunter settlements on White River,
having already been in the woods more than double the time contemplated. Our
supplies have consequently been failing for several days. Our bread gave out
more than a week ago, and we have not Indian meal enough to last more than one
day more. Our dried meat and our shot are also nearly expended, so that there
appears a certainty of running out of provisions very soon, without the
possibility of getting a supply, unless we should be fortunate enough to arrive
at some hunter's cabin in the course of one or two days. We have, in fact,
already been on short allowance for two days past, and begin to feel the effects
of an unsatisfied appetite. The following incident will serve to show the
situation to which we were reduced. In returning from the little tour of
observation I made on the right banks of the river, I met with a deserted
Indian, or White Hunter's Camp, where I found three pumpkins upon a vine which
had sprung up from a seed accidentally dropped by the former occupant. One of
them having been partly eaten by some wild animal, I gave the balance to my
horse, except a portion which I reserved for my own use, and which I sat down
and eat with as much pleasure as I ever enjoyed from the most delicious melon or
peach. I was not, indeed, before sensible of such a degree of hunger. The other
two I took to camp, where I received the hearty congratulations of my companion
upon so fortunate a discovery, and arrangements were immediately made for a
grand stew. A little iron camp- kettle we carried with us was well adapted for
the purpose, and we had a plenty both of water and of salt; but as we had
neither bread nor meat, nor any other eatable thing to make up a repast, some
epicures would not have relished the entertainment. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a
most hearty and social repast, for what we lacked in variety we made up in
rarity; and had a haunch of venison, dressed with all the spices of the east,
smoked upon our oaken table, we could not have done more ample justice to the
cookery. A circumstance has been noticed this evening, which proves
that the climate we are in is adapted to the growth of cotton, several stalks of
which were found growing spontaneously among the weeds encircling our camp. The
bowls were handsomely filled with cotton of a fine quality, and we picked some
of it, for the purpose of kindling a fire, as we find it preferable to tow,
which we have heretofore used. Friday, Nov. 27th Having exhausted our provisions and our shot, so that we
could procure no support from our guns, we determined on leaving our heavy
baggage and horse at the Hunter's Camp, in order that we might travel with
greater rapidity in search of a settlement, which we had reason to believe was
at no great distance. We had each provided ourselves with knapsacks, in which we
put a blanket, and some other indispensables. Our horse, with a bell on, was
turned into the adjacent cane-brake, and our baggage piled in one corner of the
camp, secured from the weather by boards, bark, etc. With these arrangements we
left the camp at an early hour, keeping on the highlands nearly parallel with
the river, which ran in a general course south-south-west. After travelling about six miles, we were rejoiced to hear a
gun fired on our left, supposing it to be some hunter who could afford us
relief, or at least direct us in what section of the country we were, and with
this view made great exertions to find him. We fired several times; we hallooed,
and were answered; but after pursuing him for some time, were obliged to give up
the attempt, and pursue our way, having lost an hour or two in the search. In
going eight miles further, night overtook us, and we encamped in an Indian bark
tent on the bank of the river, which had not been occupied for one or two years.
Distance fourteen miles. The weather is becoming cooler. Saturday, Nov. 28th We this morning finished the last morsel of our provisions. A
dense fog, which prevented us from discerning objects at a distance of fifty
yards, detained us in camp until sun-rise, when we ascended the river-hills on
our left, and travelled diligently in a south-south-east course, which was that
of the river, until late in the afternoon. A want of water now compelled us
again to seek the river's bank, and we encamped in a thick cane-brake in season
to gather up some wood, and build a fire, before dark. Our route this day has
lain across a rough and sterile tract of country, covered with oak, and
destitute of streams; and we have seen abundance of deer, for whom it appears to
be a favourite range at this season of the year. The rocks are invariably
secondary lime-stone, which has continued to be the surface rock, in all the
district we have passed over, since last notice. The mineralogy has not been
interesting. lron-ores, some crystallized quartz, pyrites, and horn-stone, are
the principal substances noticed. The weather, which has been mild and pleasant,
since we commenced our journey, has experienced a change that has gradually been
operating for several days, and we have sensibly felt the increase of cold for
the last two nights. The uniform temperature, 44 deg. of the air, and the
serenity of the atmosphere, have been the subject of frequent remark, while we
have been travelling in this section of territory. There have been a few days in
which the atmosphere was smoky, but, at the same time, an increased warmth was
observable; and with the exception of a slight shower of rain, which fell during
the night, while encamped on the Merrimack, and a rain-storm which prevailed
while in Ashley's Cave, on the Currents, the sky has remained unclouded. We did
not, indeed, expect to find the climate so favourable at this season of the
year, and are disposed to believe that the month of November in this region may
uniformly be characterized by mild, serene, and pleasant weather. Distance
fourteen miles. Acorns for supper. Sunday, Nov. 29th A thick fog, which overhung the valley this morning,
prevented us from quitting our camp at an early hour. When sufficiently clear to
discern our way, we ascended the river-hills on our left, and took a
south-south-east course across the highlands, and after travelling twelve miles,
encamped in a deep ravine after dark, as we were unable before to find water.
Nothing can exceed the roughness and sterility of the country we have to-day
traversed; and the endless succession of steep declivities, and broken, rocky
precipices, surmounted, added to a languor consequent to our situation, has
rendered the day's march unusually fatiguing. Monday, Nov. 30th We obtained little sleep last night on account of the cold,
and commenced our journey at a very early hour this morning. After travelling
two miles we fell into a horse-path with fresh tracks leading both ways, and
after some deliberation followed the left-hand end of it, leading to the
north-east. There was no doubt now of our being on a path occasionally
travelled between two settlements, but it was impossible to tell which of them
we were nearest. We first concluded to follow to the north-east; but, on going
about three miles, altered our minds, and had returned about half a mile on the
same path we went, when we met a man on horseback. He was the first human being
we had encountered for twenty days, and I do not know that I ever received a
greater pleasure at the sight of a man. He proved to be a person who had
formerly resided as a hunter at a remote settlement on White River, and was now
returning from a visit to that region, where he had disposed of a small
improvement. From him we learned that the stream we had been following down, was
the Great North Fork of White River; that we were then within ten miles of its
mouth, and that we were within a few miles of a house either way. Elated with
this information, we turned about and followed our informant, who, in travelling
about seven miles in a north-west direction, brought us to a hunter's house on
Bennet's Bayou, a tributary stream of the North Fork, where we arrived about
three o'clock in the afternoon. Our approach was announced by the loud and long continued
barking of dogs, who required repeated bidding before they could be pacified;
and the first object worthy of remark which presented itself on emerging from
the forest, was the innumerable quantity of deer, bear, and other skins, which
had been from time to time stretched out, and hung up to dry on poles and trees
around the house. These trophies of skill and prowess in the chace were regarded
with great complacency by our conductor as we passed among them, and he told us,
that the house we were about to visit belonged to a person by the name of Wells,
who was a forehanded man for these parts, and a great hunter. He had several
acres of ground in a state of cultivation, and a substantial new-built
log-house, consisting of one room, which had been lately exchanged for one less
calculated to accommodate a growing family. Its interior would disappoint any
person who has never had an opportunity of witnessing the abode of man beyond
the pale of the civilized world. Nothing could be more remote from the ideas we
have attached to domestic comfort, neatness, or conveniency, without allusion to
cleanliness, order, and the concomitant train of household attributes, which
make up the sum of human felicity in refined society. The dress of the children attracted our attention. The boys
were clothed in a particular kind of garment made of deer-skin, which served the
double purposes of shirt and jacket. The girls had buck-skin frocks, which it
was evident, by the careless manner in which they were clothed, were intended to
combine the utility both of linen and calico, and all were abundantly greasy and
dirty. Around the walls of the room hung the horns of deer and buffaloe, rifles,
shot-pouches, leather-coats, dried meat, and other articles, composing the
ward-robe, smoke-house, and magazine of our host and family, while the floor
displayed great evidence of his own skill in the fabrication of household
furniture. A dressed deer-skin served up much in the shape the animal originally
possessed, and filled with bear's oil, and another filled with wild honey,
hanging on opposite sides of the fire-place, were too conspicuous to escape
observation, for which, indeed, they appeared to be principally kept, and
brought forcibly to mind the ludicrous anecdote of potatoes and point: "As in some Irish houses where things are so-so, Our first care was to inform our host that we wished
something to eat; that we had come across the wilderness from Mine à
Burton, had been twenty-four
days out, and run short of shot, and that we had been without meat or bread for
several days. We were about to add, that we were inexperienced in hunting and
travelling in the woods, and had probably fared worse than an old hunter would
have done in our situation; but he anticipated our design, notwithstanding our
being disguised as hunters, and taking hold of my companion's shotgun, remarked,
"I reckon, stranger, you have not been used much to travelling in the
woods." While his wife was preparing a meal, we entered into a
general conversation on the subject of our journey, and obtained from him such
directions as were necessary for continuing our course, which we now learned we
had widely missed. He inquired respecting the country we had crossed, what were
the streams, the kind of wood, and the game. All this was done with a view
either of learning from us, or of judging for himself whether it was a region
for hunting, and what animals it abounded with. He was particularly anxious for
bear, deer being very common in all parts, and to use his own words,
"hardly worth shooting;" and from information we gave him, he
immediately determined to set out the next day on a bear-hunt, up the Great
North Fork. His wife seemed to take a very great interest in this piece of
information, and was even more particular than he in inquiries respecting the
freshness of the signs we had seen. We now sat down to a meal of smoaking-hot corn-bread, butter,
honey, and milk, a diet we should at any time have relished, but in the present
instance very judiciously set before us; and after eating as much as we supposed
two hearty men ought to, arose unsatisfied, not more from a regard to moral than
physical propriety. After supper we made many inquiries respecting the region we
were in; its bearing and relation to the nearest settlements; the quality of
soil, mineral and vegetable productions, etc. topics upon which he readily gave
us information. He was ever anxious to show that he knew something of civilized
society (from which, by the way, we had afterwards reason to conclude he had
made a sudden escape.) told us, that he sometimes went on business into the
settled parts of Lawrence county, and that he then lived within a hundred miles
of a justice of the peace, and by way of proving this, showed us a summons he
had himself lately received. He desired us to read it, (a thing neither himself
nor any member of his family could do,) but with all our ingenuity in
deciphering syllables and connecting words, we could not tell him when, or
where, the suit was to be held; who he was to answer, nor, indeed, make any
sense out of it. In the course of the evening I tried to engage our hostess and
her daughters in small-talk, such as passes current in every social corner; but,
for the first time, found I should not recommend myself in that way. They could
only talk of bears, hunting, and the like. The rude pursuits, and the coarse
enjoyments of the hunter state, were all they knew. The evening was now far
spent; we had related the most striking incidents of our tour, and had listened
in return to many a hunting exploit, in the course of which, the trophies on the
wall were occasionally referred to as proof, when a motion was made for sleep,
and we lay down on a skin before the fire, happy in the reflection that we had a
roof to cover us. Distance twelve miles. Tuesday, Dec. 1st We had concluded to spend this day in preparations for
recommending our journey on the next. Our dress now required attention. Our
shoes were literally cut to pieces by the stony region we had crossed, and we
had purchased a deer-skin for the purpose of making ourselves a pair of
mockasons a-piece. We also had purchased some corn for bread, some wild honey,
and a little lead. The former required pounding in a mortar, and the latter
moulding into bullets, or shot. All this was imperiously necessary: and we had,
therefore, determined to devote the day in making preparations, but we found our
host and his sons early busied in equipping themselves for a bear-hunt up the
Great North Fork, and as they would pass near the place where we had left our
horse and baggage on the 27th of November, determined not to lose so good an
opportunity of being safely piloted back. Our way ward course for the last two
days had already carried us as many miles in a direct line toward it, and he
told us he could by a near route carry us there before nine o'clock at night.
This served to increase our anxiety, which he had no sooner raised to the
highest point, than he refused to conduct us, unless we would pay a certain sum
of money, which he stipulated. He had already found we had money, for we had
paid him very liberal, if not exorbitant prices, for every thing we had
received, and it had only served to inflame his avarice. There was no
alternative in our present situation, and we agreed to his demand, provided he
would kill us a deer, either on the way, or before he left our camp. This
arranged, we began early in the morning to beat our corn into meal, by means of
a wooden mortar and pestle he kept for that purpose. This mortar was made by
burning a hole in the top of a firm oak-stump, and a large wooden pestle
attached to a spring-pole, adapted to play into it. It was an unwieldy
apparatus, and worked with a tremendous clattering, attended with incredible
fatigue to the operator. At eleven o'clock, however, we were ready for a march,
and shouldering our knapsacks and guns, set forward toward the north-west,
accompanied by our host, his sons, and a neighbour, seven men in all, armed and
equipped for a bear-hunt, and followed by a troop of hungry dogs, who made the
woods re-echo with their cries. They were all on horseback but ourselves, and as
we were heavy laden, and sore-footed, we soon fell into the rear, which obliged
the cavalcade occasionally to halt until we came up. After we had proceeded some
miles, in the course of which it had been demonstrated, that we were unable to
keep up with them, and that their frequent stopping would prevent our arrival at
the hunter's camp that night, they offered us the privilege of riding and
walking alternately with them, and with great diligence we reached the camp near
ten o'clock at night, and found our horse and baggage all safe. Distance twenty
miles. Wednesday, Dec. 2d Two men had been detached from our party yesterday for the
purpose of killing the stipulated deer; and that they might proceed more
cautiously, took another route, and reached the camp some time before our
arrival, but were unsuccessful, only bringing in a couple of turkeys, one of
which was immediately roasted for supper. Early this morning, therefore, several
of the party went out in quest of game, but all returned at intervals within two
hours, completely unsuccessful, and after finishing the other turkey by way of
breakfast, suddenly mounted their horses and bid us adieu. So abrupt a movement
took us rather by surprise, and as they trotted off through an adjoining forest,
we stood surveying the singular procession, and the singular beings of whom it
was composed, and which, taken altogether, bore no comparison with any thing
human or divine, savage or civilized, which we had ever before witnessed, but
was rather characterized in partaking of whatever was disgusting, terrific,
rude, and outre in all. It was, indeed, a novel and striking spectacle, such as
we had never before experienced, and when they had passed out of sight we could
not forbear an expression of joy at the departure of men, in whose presence we
felt rather like prisoners than associates. From their generosity we had
received nothing; they had neglected to fulfill one of the most essential
engagements, and departed without even an apology for it; their manner and
conversation were altogether rough and obscene, and their conduct such as to
make us every moment feel that we were in their power. Nothing could more illy
correspond with the ideas we had formed of our reception among white hunters,
than the conduct we had experienced from these men. Their avarice, their
insensibility to our wants, not to call them sufferings, and their flagrant
violations of engagements, has served to sink them in our estimation to a very
low standard; for, deprived of its generosity, its open frankness, and
hospitality, there is nothing in the hunter-character left to admire. Left alone, we began to reflect upon our own situation,
which, with every advantage that had been gained by our visit to the hunters,
was still extremely unpleasant. As to provision, we had corn, meal, and some
honey, but we had not enough of either to last a great while without meat; and
besides, the voracious appetite created by the exertion of travelling demanded
something more. We had only succeeded in procuring a sufficient quantity of lead
to mould five bullets. We had purchased a skin for making mockasons. We had got
directions for continuing our voyage, and knew the relative situation of the
country we were in. In so much was our condition bettered, and preferable to
what we found it five days before, on quitting the same camp in quest of a
settlement. But we still lacked animal food, we lacked lead, and guns adapted to
hunting; and we lacked that experience necessary to enable us to pursue our way
successfully through a wilderness, by directions which were either very vague,
or not founded on an acquaintance with that part of the country, the latter of
which we had strong reasons for believing to be the case. Our first care, after
the departure of the hunters, was to make ourselves mockasons, and we spent the
day in this and other preparations, necessary to the comfort, convenience, and
safety of our tour. Thursday, Dec. 3d While Mr. Pettibone completed the preparations necessary for
recommending our journey to-morrow, I sallied into the adjoining woods with my
gun, with a determination to kill something. But after spending several hours in
endeavouring to elude the sagacity of the birds and beasts of the forest, and
making three unsuccessful shots, I returned to camp in a plight infinitely worse
than I left it. Mr. P. then took the gun, and also made an unsuccessful shot at
a turkey. We had now but one ball left; it was near night, and a flock of turkey
betook themselves to roost on a cluster of oaks at no great distance. As we had been unsuccessful during the day, we resolved to
try our fortune at night, and endeavour to accomplish that by stratagem which we
had been unable to do in any other way. The night was dark, and we presumed this
animal would not be frightened from its roost by our approach. To pre- vent all
accidents, I cleaned up my gun thoroughly, put in a new flint, and charged it
with great care, with the remaining ball, having first cut it in thirty- two
parts by way of shot. Then taking a torch, we proceeded into the midst of the
flock, and selecting a large one, which sat low, Mr. P. fired, while I held the
light above the barrel, and the turkey dropped. With joy we returned to camp,
and prepared a sumptuous repast. Friday, Dec. 4th The weather, which has continued mild during the whole month
of November, experienced a sensible change in the last three days, and we had
cold and frosty nights, and the mornings and evenings chilly. The 1st of
December was a cold day, the second moderately cold, the third mild, and this
day it has rained constantly, so that we have been confined to our camp. Saturday, Dec. 5th The weather being clear this morning, we got our horse packed
at an early hour, and fording the river, pursued a west course for Sugar-Loaf
Prairie, on White River. After travelling two miles across a high ridge, we
struck a small river, tributary to the Great North Fork, which we followed up
seven or eight miles, and encamped in a cane-brake on a low point of land,
formed by the junction of two streams, near its head. Travelling had been
excessively bad, owing to the hills, the roughness of the country, and the
thickets along the margin of the stream. A proportion of cane-brake and swamp
has also been encountered, in crossing which, our horse got mired, an accident
which cost us great labour, and threatened one of the most serious calamities
which has yet attended our journey. An attempt to rescue him seemed fruitless,
our exertions only served to sink him deeper in the mire. We at last succeeded
in getting off the pack, piece after piece, but after spending two hours in vain
endeavours to extricate the horse, gave up the attempt. We now carried our
baggage to a contiguous spot of dry ground, and sat down to rest, and to
contemplate our own situation, which, deprived of our horse, was truly
deplorable. Our skins, our cooking-utensils, axe, some part of our corn, meal,
etc. must be abandoned. Without these we could not progress with any degree of
comfort, and in resolving to renew our attempts, exhibited, perhaps, less of
reasonable perseverance than of desperation, for, on returning to the horse, he
was now sunk in soft black mud so deep, that the upper part of his back and head
and neck were only visible. Nevertheless we succeeded, with less than an hour's
work, in drawing him out, and cleaning the mud from his body, so that we were
enabled to re-pack him, and travel on about three miles before encamping. Some
tolerably good lands have been observed on the stream we came up, but generally
there is a want of timber. Distance nine miles. Sunday, Dec. 6th Travelled sixteen miles west-south-west, across a rocky ridge
of land, and encamped on a pretty large stream running south, from which we
conclude it is discharged into White River. Face of the country very rough,
lands sterile, timber oak, and very scanty; weather very mild and pleasant for
the season. Monday, Dec. 7th On going six miles, we halted our horse near the summit of a
bald mountain, while we went up to survey one of those beautiful and extensive
prospects which the traveller so frequently enjoys in passing over this
singularly wild and barren region. We had been told by the hunter to travel
toward sun-set, that is, nearly due-west, and that in going fifteen miles we
should reach a settlement of hunters on the banks of White River. We had now
gone double that distance, and as we could not, from the elevated peak on which
we now stood, discover any signs of White River, or of human habitations, had
reason to conclude we had received wrong directions, and, therefore, resolved to
alter our course of travelling. Returning to our horse, we turned directly
south, making a right angle with our former course, and had not proceeded more
than a mile, when we fell into a feintly-marked horse-path, and in following
this three miles, it led into another and a plainer path, which led us on a high
bluff of rocks, forming the eastern bank of White River, which ran a broad and
beautiful stream below. Elated with this discovery, made so soon after we were
ready to conclude ourselves lost, we followed down the river's bank about a
mile, and discovered a house on the opposite bank of the river. We lost no time
in fording it at a ripple, where the water was only ha1f-leg deep, and were
received with hospitality by the occupant, a white hunter, by the name of M'Gary.
He had a field of several acres under cultivation, where he raised corn, with
several horses, cows, and hogs. The house was of logs, built after the manner of
the new settlers in the interior of Ohio, Indiana, and llinois. He was provided
with a hand-mill for grinding corn, a smoke-house filled with bear and other
meats, and the, interior of the house, though very far from being either neat or
comfortable, bore some evidence that the occupant had once resided in civilized
society. I noticed a couple of odd volumes of books upon a shelf. Some part of
the wearing-apparel of himself and family was of foreign manufacture. Upon the
whole, he appeared to live in great ease and independence, surrounded by a
numerous family of sons and daughters, all grown up; received us with
cordiality, gave us plenty to eat, and bid us welcome as long as we pleased to
stay. In the evening, conversation turned on the length and object
of our journey, the difficulties we had encountered, the game we had seen, etc.
He told us we were 800 miles above the junction of White River with the
Mississippi; that the river was navigable with keel-boats all the way; that
there were several settlements along its banks, the river bottoms being very
rich; and that traders sometimes came up with large canoes to that place, and to
the settlement above at the Sugar-Loaf Prairie. He represented our journey
toward the head of the White River as extremely hazardous, on account of the
Osage Indians, whose hunting grounds embraced the whole region in which this
river, and its upper tributaries, originate, and who never failed to rob white
hunters, and travellers who were so unfortunate as to fall in their way, and
sometimes carried them into captivity. He related the particulars of a robbery
they had some time before committed upon him in the very house we were then
sitting, when they took away horses, clothes, and such other articles about the
house as they took a fancy to. They had visited him in this way twice, and very
recently had stolen eight beaver traps, with all his furs, from a neighbouring
hunter, and detained him a considerable time a prisoner in their camp. Numerous
other instances were related, all tending to prove that the Osage Indians felt
hostile to the white settlements along that river, and that they were habitual
robbers and plunderers, not only of them, but of every person who happened to
fall defenceless into their hands. All this was new to us, and excited some surprise, as the
United States have enjoyed an uninterrupted peace with this tribe of Indians
ever since the acquisition of Louisiana. We replied to him, that the existence
of such robberies must certainly be unknown to the government; that we
considered it bound to protect them in the lawful and peaceable enjoyment of
their liberty and property while living within the territories of the United
States, and that if proper representations were made to the Indian agent at St.
Louis, redress could undoubtedly be obtained. He said such representations had
been attempted, but owing to causes not recollected, did not succeed; that they
were not, in fact, able to undertake such long journeys for the purpose of
seeking redress, which would cost more than the worth of the property taken,
etc. He also informed us, that a deadly and deep-rooted hostility
existed between the Cherokees, who had lately exchanged their lands in Tennessee
for the country lying between the Arkansaw and Red River, and the Osages, and
that they were daily committing depredations upon the territories and properties
of each other. Having but a short time before witnessed the conclusion of a
treaty of peace between these two tribes, made at St. Louis under the auspices
of Governor Clark, I was surprised to hear of the continuance of hostilities. To
prove what reliance is to be placed on the faith of such treaties, he mentioned,
that when the Cherokees returned from the council which concluded that treaty,
they pursued a party of Osages near the banks of White River, and stole,
unperceived, twenty horses, and carried them safely off. Before going to sleep
we determined to leave our horse, who had fallen away very much, and indeed all
our baggage which cannot be put into knapsacks, with M'Gary, until our return.
Distance eleven miles. Tuesday, Dec. 8th Having obtained the necessary information, we determined this
morning to continue our journey to Sugar-Loaf Prairie, for which we had made
preparation, by turning a couple of small bags into knapsacks, and putting in a
blanket, and such articles of necessity as could be conveniently carried. On
offering to pay our entertainer for victuals and lodging, he refused to take
anything, and perceiving we had no meat to take with us, took me to his
smoke-house, and drawing his knife, put it into my hand, then opened the door,
and told me to go in and cut what I wanted. I did so. It was well filled with
dried buffaloe's beef, and bear's meat, both smoaked and fresh. At nine o'clock
in the morning we bid our generous host adieu, crossed the river at the ford,
and followed up the horse-path leading to Sugar-Loaf Prairie, on the east bank
of the river. This path frequently became so blind, that we were unable to keep
it, and spent some time in frequent searches for the tracks of horses. Relieved
of the tiresome task of leading a pack-horse we travelled on with accelerated
speed, until approaching darkness warned us that it was time to encamp. Deer and
Turkey have been common. The weather continues mild. Distance sixteen miles.
Course west-north-west. Wednesday, Dec. 9th The path we are pursuing became so feint and indefinite, that
we were unable to follow it more than a mile from our encampment, but taking the
general course of the river, forced our way through the thick cane and brier
which over-run the rich alluvial banks of the river, with incredible fatigue. At
the distance of seven miles we came unexpectedly into a small opening in the
midst of one of the most gloomy thickets of cane we had yet encountered. Here,
in a small camp, tight only at top, we found a family who had two weeks before
emigrated from the lower parts of White River. They had brought their furniture
and effects, such as it was, partly in a canoe up the river, and partly on
pack-horses through the woods. Nothing could present a more striking picture of the
hardships encountered by the back wood's settler, than this poor, friendless,
and forlorn family. The woman and her little children were a touching groupe of
human distress, and in contemplating their forlorn situation we for a while
forgot our own deprivations and fatigues. They were short of provisions, the
husband being out in search of game, and after obtaining such information as the
woman was able to give, respecting the next settlement, we continued our journey
in a north-west course along the hills which skirt the river bottoms at the
distance of a mile from its banks, and arrived at an early hour in the afternoon
at the house of a Mr. Coker, at what is called Sugar-Loaf Prairie. This takes
its name from a bald hill covered with grass rising on the verge of the river
alluvion on the west side of the river, and is discernible at the distance of
many miles. The settlement at Sugar-Loaf Prairie consists at present of four
families, located within the distance of eight miles, but is so recent that a
horse-path has not yet been worn from one cabin to another. It is the highest
settlement on the river, excepting two families at the mouth of Beaver Creek,
about three miles above (the actual distance is fifteen miles overland and forty
miles by river). These people subsist partly by agriculture, and partly by
hunting. They raise corn for bread, and for feeding their horses previous to the
commencement of long journeys in the woods, but none for exportation. No
cabbages, beets, onions, potatoes, turnips, or other garden vegetables, are
raised. Gardens are unknown. Corn and wild meats, chiefly bear's meat, are the
staple articles of food. In manners, morals, customs, dress, contempt of labour
and hospitality, the state of society is not essentially different from that
which exists among the savages. Schools, religion, and learning are alike
unknown. Hunting is the principal, the most honourable, and the most profitable
employment. To excel in the chace procures fame, and a man's reputation is
measured by his skill as a marksman, his agility and strength, his boldness and
dexterity in killing game, and his patient endurance and contempt of the
hardships of the hunter's life. They are, consequently, a hardy, brave,
independent people, rude in appearance, frank and generous, travel without
baggage, and can subsist any where in the woods, and would form the most
efficient military corps in frontier warfare which can possibly exist. Ready
trained, they require no discipline, inured to danger, and perfect in the use of
the rifle. Their system of life is, ill fact, one continued scene of
camp-service. Their habitations are not always permanent, having little which is
valuable, or loved, to rivet their affections to anyone spot; and nothing which
is venerated, but what they can carry with them; they frequently change
residence, travelling where game is more abundant. Vast quantities of beaver,
otter, raccoon, deer, and bear-skins, are annually caught. These skins are
carefully collected and preserved during the summer and fall, and taken down the
river in canoes, to the mouth of the Great North Fork of White River, or to the
mouth of Black River, where traders regularly come up with large boats to
receive them. They also take down some wild honey, bear's bacon, and buffaloe-beef,
and receive in return, salt, iron-pots, axes, blankets, knives, rifles, and
other articles of first importance in their mode of life. We were received by Mr. Coker with that frankness and blunt
hospitality which are characteristic of the hunter. Our approach to the house
was, as usual, announced by the barking of dogs, whose incessant yells plainly
told us, that all who approached that domain, of which they were the natural
guardians, and whether moving upon two, or upon four legs, were considered as
enemies, and it was not until they were peremptorily, and repeatedly recalled,
that they could be pacified. Dried skins, stretched out with small rods, and
hung up to dry on trees and poles around the house, served to give the scene the
most novel appearance. This custom has been observed at every hunter's cabin we
have encountered, and, as we find, great pride is taken in the display, the
number and size of the bear-skins serving as a credential of the hunter's skill
and prowess in the chace. We had no sooner acquainted our entertainer with the objects
and contemplated extent of our journey, than he discovered the fear which
appears to prevail on this river, respecting the Osage Indians, and corroborated
what we had before heard of their robberies. He considered the journey hazardous
at this season, as they had not yet, probably, broke up their hunting camps, and
retired, as they do every winter, to their villages on the Grandosaw river. He
recommended us to abandon our guns for rifles, to take with us as little baggage
as possible-thought we should find it a poor season for game, and made other
remarks of a discouraging nature. The fact was, he had an old rifle for sale,
thought we had money, and wished to get double the worth of it, and wished us to
engage an idle hypochondriac, who hung about him, as a guide. We were inclined
to do both, but could not agree as to the price of the former, and the latter
could not be prevailed to go at any price. Thursday, Dec. 10th On first striking White River, at M'Gary's, we endeavoured to
procure a guide to conduct us on our route, but were unsuccessful; being
disappointed in our application here also, we took directions for reaching the
hunters' camps at Beaver Creek, and left Coker's about noon. He refused taking
pay for our entertainment. After travelling eight miles in a north-west course,
which carried us across a hilly barren tract, extending eastwardly from the
river, we encamped before dark, under a ledge of shelving lime-stone rock, the
atmosphere portending a storm. The weather begins to assume a wintery character; this is the
first day we have been troubled with cold fingers. Friday, Dec. 11th A singular species of deception has occurred to us in the
course of this day's journey. We had been told, that in travelling a due
north-west course for eighteen miles, we should strike Beaver Creek, which we
were to pursue down to its mouth, where a couple of hunters had located
themselves. We had, however, deviated too far to the west, and arrived at about
two o'clock on the banks of White River, which we mistook for Beaver Creek, and
fording it, at waist deep, pursued our course about two miles beyond, when we
became sensible of the error, turned back, and pursued up on the west bank of
the river until evening. We now found ourselves on a gravelly barren point of
land, encompassed on both sides by water, without wood, and exposed to a keen
air blowing down the river. The day-light had already disappeared; on the west
bank was a high bluff of lime-stone rock rising perpendicularly from the water's
edge, and so precipitous that it could not be passed; on the east was an
extensive bottom of rich alluvion land, covered by forest-trees and cane, and
separated from us by the main channel of the river. The very idea of wading
through it, at this late hour, and cold as we were, made us shiver, yet we could
not long hesitate between remaining without a stick of wood to kindle a fire,
and fording the river, at this place 300 yards in width, with a depth of from
four to five feet. On gaining the opposite shore, we were so chilled, that it
was with difficulty a fire could be raised, and I confess this to have been one
of the most cheerless nights we experienced on our tour. Distance sixteen miles,
weather windy and cold. Saturday, Dec. 12th The ground this morning was covered with a thick white frost,
the air keen and cold, and having been prevented from getting much sleep during
the night by the severity of the weather, we left our encampment at day-break
and ascended the bluff, bordering the river bottom at the distance of a mile on
the east. In travelling a few miles we observed a smoke issuing from
the ground, in a column about two feet in diameter, as if produced by
subterranean fire. On coming up, however, it proved to be a warm dense air
escaping from a cavern below, through a small aperture in the rock. All was dark
within, but by throwing down stones, it appeared evident from the noise, that
there was a large cavity, and thinking it might repay the risk and trouble of
going down, I determined to descend; or, at least, to make the attempt. There
was just room enough at the mouth to squeeze myself in, and I supported myself
against the rocks, carefully feeling my way down, and as I descended, could see
the light from above. At the distance of twenty feet, this orifice, which had
increased gradually, though irregularly, in size, opened into a spacious
chamber, terrific in appearance from its rugged walls, viewed by the feeble
light transmitted from above. In three several directions, passages of nearly
equal size diverged, as from a centre, descending gradually into the earth, and
appearing like rents caused by some mighty convulsion. I followed down one of
these as far as the least glimmering of light could be discerned, and groped
along some distance further, but as this was rather a dangerous business, and I
had no light for exploring with any degree of satisfaction, I gave up the
attempt, bringing out a fragment of the rock, which appeared, on inspection, to
be similar in every respect to the rock on the surface, viz. secondary
lime-stone. Following the course of the river, which is devious beyond
comparison, we found ourselves at the distance of about six miles on the banks
of Beaver Creek, a beautiful, clear stream of sixty yards wide, with an average
depth of about two feet, and a handsome gravelly bottom. A little beyond this we
found a horse-path, which led, within the distance of a mile and a half, to the
hunters' camps we were in search of. Distance eleven miles. Sunday, Dec. 13th |
