LETTER VII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peoria, July 8th.

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

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

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

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