"Why do you go?" she asked.
"Because Imust, Jane," I replied. "Imustgo."
"Andwhymust you go?" she asked.
"Oh, Jane, don't ask me why I must go; you wouldn't, if you knew"—
There I stopped. She spoke again. There was a strange tone in her voice, and I could feel that she was trembling all over.
"Don'tgo, Henry."
Never before had she called me Henry, and this, together with her strong emotion and the desire she expressed for me to stay, shot a bright thought of joy through my soul. It was the very first moment that I had entertained the possibility of her caring for me. I seemed another being. Strange thoughts flashed like lightning across my mind. My resolve was taken.
"Who cares whether I go or stay?" I asked.
"Icare," said she.
I took both her hands in mine, and, looking full in her face, said, in a low voice,—
"Jane,how muchdo you care?"
"A whole heart full," she replied, in a voice as low and as earnest as my own.
She was leaning on the fence; I leaned back beside her, for I grew sick and faint, thinking of the great joy that might be coming.
"Jane," said I, solemnly, "you wouldn'tmarry me, would you?"
"Certainly not," she replied. "How can I, when you have never asked me?"
"Jane," said I, and my voice sounded strange even to myself, "I hope you are not trifling;—you never would dare, did you know the state I am in, that Ihavebeen in for—oh, so long! But I can't have hidden all my love. Can't you see how my life almost is hanging upon your answer? Jane, do you love me, and will you be my wife?"
"Henry," she replied, softly, but firmly, "Idolove you. I have loved you a long, long time, and I shall be proud to be your wife, if—you think me worthy."
It was more than I could bear. The sleepless nights, the days of almost entire fasting, together with all my troubles, had been too much for me. I was weak in body and in mind.
"Oh, Jane!" was all I could say. Then, leaning my head upon her shoulder, I cried like a child. It didn't seem childish then.
"Oh, but, Henry, I won't, then, if you feel so badly about it," said she, half laughing. Then, changing her tone, she begged me to become calm. But in vain. The barriers were broken down, and the tide of emotion, long suppressed, must gush forth. She evidently came to this conclusion. She stood quiet and silent, and at last began timidly stroking my hair. I shall never forget the first touch of her hand upon my forehead. It soothed me, or else my emotion was spent; for, after a while, I became quite still.
"Oh, Jane," I whispered, "my sorrow I could bear; but this strange happiness overwhelms me. Can it be true? Oh, it is a fearful thing to be so happy! How came you to love me, Jane? You are so beautiful, and I—I am so"——
"You are so good, Henry!" she exclaimed, earnestly,—"too good for me! You are a true-hearted, noble soul, worthy the love of any woman. If you weren't so bashful," she continued, in a lower tone, "I should not say so much; but—do you suppose nobody is happy but yourself? There is somebody who scarcely more than an hour ago was weeping bitter tears, feeling that the greatest joy of her life was gone forever. But now her joy has returned to her, her heart is glad, she trembles with happiness. Oh, Henry, 'it is a fearful thing to be so happy!'"
I could not answer; so I drew her close up to me. She was mine now, and why should I not press her closely to my heart,—that heart so brimful of love for her? There was a little bench at the foot of the apple-tree, and there I made her sit down by me and answer the many eager questions I had to ask. I forgot all about the dampness and the evening air. She told how her mother had liked me from the first,—how they were informed, by some few acquaintances they had made in the village, of my early disappointment, and also of the peculiar state of mind into which I was thrown by those early troubles; but when she began to love me she couldn't tell. She had often thought I cared for her,—mentioned the day when I found her at my mother's bedside, also the day of the funeral; but so well had I controlled my feelings that she was never sure until that night.
"I trust you will not think me unmaidenly, Henry," said she, looking timidly up in my face. "You won't think worse of me, will you, for—for almost offering myself to you?"
There was but one answer to this, and I failed not to give it. 'Twas a very earnest answer, and she drew back a little. Her voice grew lower and lower, while she told how, at my shaking hands the night before, she almost fainted,—how she longed to say "Stay," but dared not, for I was so stiff and cold: how could she say, "Don't go, Mr. Allen; please stay and marry me"?—how she passed a wretched night and day, and walked out at evening to be alone,—how she felt that she could go nowhere but to my mother's grave,—and, finally, how overwhelmed with joy she was when I came upon her so suddenly.
All this she told me, speaking softly and slowly, for which I was thankful; for I liked to feel the sweet words of healing, dropping one by one upon my heart.
In the midst of our talk, we heard the front-door of the house open.
"They are coming to look for me," said Jane. "You will go in?"
Hand in hand we walked up the pathway. We met Ellen half-way down. She started with surprise at seeing me.
"Why, Mr. Allen!" she exclaimed, "I thought you a hundred miles off.Why, Jane, mother was afraid you had fallen down the well."
She tripped gayly into the house.
"Mother!" she called out,—"you sent me for one, and I have brought you two."
Jane and I walked in hand in hand; for I would not let her go. Her mother looked surprised, but well pleased.
"Mrs. Wood," said I, "Jane has asked me to stay, and I am going to."
Nothing more was needed; our faces told the rest.
"Now Heaven be praised," she replied, "that we are still to have you with us! I could not help thinking, that, if you only knew how much we cared for you, you would not have been in such a hurry to leave us." And she glanced significantly towards Jane.
The rest of the evening was spent in the most interesting explanations. I passed the night at the village inn, as I had intended,—passed it, not in sleep, but in planning and replanning, and in trying to persuade myself that "Pink and Blue" was my own to keep.
The next day I spent at the Woods'. It was the first really happy day of my life. In the afternoon, I took a long walk with Jane, through green lanes, and orchards white and fragrant with blossoms. In the evening, the family assembled, and we held sweet council together. It was decided unanimously, that, situated as I was, there was no reason for delaying the wedding,—that I should repossess myself of the furniture I had given away, by giving new in exchange, the old being dearer to both Jane and myself,—and, finally, that our wedding should be very quiet, and should take place as soon as Jane could be got ready. Through it all I sat like one in a dream, assenting to everything, for everything seemed very desirable.
As soon as possible, I reopened my house, and established myself there with the same little servant. It took Jane about a month to get ready, and it took me some years to feel wholly my own happiness.
The old house is still standing; but after Mrs. Wood died, and Ellen was married, we moved into the village; for the railroad came very near us, cutting right through the path "across the field." I had the bodies of my father and mother removed to the new cemetery.
My wife has been to me a lifelong blessing, my heart's joy and comfort. They who have not tried it can never know how much love there is in a woman's heart. The pink still lingers on her cheek, and her blue eye has that same expression which so bewitched me in my younger days. The spell has never been broken. I am an old man and she is an old woman, and, though I don't do it before folks, lest they call us two old fools, yet, when I come in and find her all alone, I am free to own that I do hug and kiss her, and always mean to. If anybody is inclined to laugh, let him just come and see how beautiful she is.
Our sons are away now, and all our daughters are married but one. I'm glad they haven't taken her,—she looks so much as her mother did when I first knew her. Her name is Jane Wood Allen. She goes in the village by the name of Jennie Allen; but I like Jane better,—Jane Wood.
That is a true account of "How I won my wife."
The street was narrow, close, and dark,And flanked with antique masonry,The shelving eaves left for an arkBut one long strip of summer sky.But one long line to bless the eye—The thin white cloud lay not so high,Only some brown bird, skimming nigh,From wings whence all the dew was dryShook down a dream of forest scents,Of odorous blooms and sweet contents,Upon the weary passers-by.
Ah, few but haggard brows had partBelow that street's uneven crown,And there the murmurs of the martSwarmed faint as hums of drowsy noon.With voices chiming in quaint tuneFrom sun-soaked hulls long wharves adown,The singing sailors rough and brownWon far melodious renown,Here, listening children ceasing play,And mothers sad their well-a-way,In this old breezy sea-board town.
Ablaze on distant banks she knew,Spreading their bowls to catch the sun,Magnificent Dutch tulips grewWith pompous color overrun.By light and snow from heaven wonTheir misty web azaleas spun;Low lilies pale as any nun,Their pensile bells rang one by one;And spicing all the summer airGold honeysuckles everywhereTheir trumpets blew in unison.
Than where blood-cored carnations stoodShe fancied richer hues might be,Scents rarer than the purple hoodCurled over in the fleur-de-lis.Small skill in learned names had she,Yet whatso wealth of land or seaHad ever stored her memory,She decked its varied imageryWhere, in the highest of the rowUpon a sill more white than snow,She nourished a pomegranate-tree.
Some lover from a foreign clime,Some roving gallant of the main,Had brought it on a gay spring-time,And told her of the nacar stainThe thing would wear when bloomed again.Therefore all garden growths in vainTheir glowing ranks swept through her brain,The plant was knit by subtile chainTo all the balm of Southern zones,The incenses of Eastern thrones,The tinkling hem of Aaron's train.
The almond shaking in the sunOn some high place ere day begin,Where winds of myrrh and cinnamonBetween the tossing plumes have been,It called before her, and its kinThe fragrant savage balaustineGrown from the ruined ravelinThat tawny leopards couch them in;But this, if rolling in from seasIt only caught the salt-fumed breeze,Would have a grace they might not win.
And for the fruit that it should bring,One globe she pictured, bright and near,Crimson, and throughly perfumingAll airs that brush its shining sphere.In its translucent atmosphereAfrite and Princess reappear,—Through painted panes the scattered spearOf sunrise scarce so warm and clear,—And pulped with such a golden juice,Ambrosial, that one cannot chooseBut find the thought most sumptuous cheer.
Of all fair women she was queen,And all her beauty, late and soon,O'ercame you like the mellow sheenOf some serene autumnal noon.Her presence like a sweetest tuneAccorded all your thoughts in one.Than last year's alder-tufts in JuneBrowner, yet lustrous as a moonHer eyes glowed on you, and her hairWith such an air as princes wearShe trimmed black-braided in a crown.
A perfect peace prepared her days,Few were her wants and small her care,No weary thoughts perplexed her ways,She hardly knew if she were fair.
Bent lightly at her needle thereIn that small room stair over stair,All fancies blithe and debonairShe deftly wrought on fabrics rare,All clustered moss, all drifting snow,All trailing vines, all flowers that blow,Her daedal fingers laid them bare.
Still at the slowly spreading leavesShe glanced up ever and anon,If yet the shadow of the eavesHad paled the dark gloss they put on.But while her smile like sunlight shone,The life danced to such blossom blownThat all the roses ever known,Blanche of Provence, Noisette, or Yonne,Wore no such tint as this pale streakThat damasked half the rounding cheekOf each bud great to bursting grown.
And when the perfect flower lay free,Like some great moth whose gorgeous wingsFan o'er the husk unconsciously,Silken, in airy balancings,—She saw all gay dishevellingsOf fairy flags, whose revellingsIllumine night's enchanted rings.So royal red no blood of kingsShe thought, and Summer in the roomSealed her escutcheon on their bloom,In the glad girl's imaginings.
Now, said she, in the heart of the woodsThe sweet south-winds assert their power,And blow apart the snowy snoodsOf trilliums in their thrice-green bower.Now all the swamps are flushed with dowerOf viscid pink, where, hour by hour,The bees swim amorous, and a showerReddens the stream where cardinals tower.Far lost in fern of fragrant stirHer fancies roam, for unto herAll Nature came in this one flower.
Sometimes she set it on the ledgeThat it might not be quite forlornOf wind and sky, where o'er the edge,Some gaudy petal, slowly borne,Fluttered to earth in careless scorn,Caught, for a fallen piece of mornFrom kindling vapors loosely shorn,By urchins ragged and wayworn,Who saw, high on the stone embossed,A laughing face, a hand that tossedA prodigal spray just freshly torn.
What wizard hints across them fleet,—These heirs of all the town's thick sin,Swift gypsies of the tortuous street,With childhood yet on cheek and chin!What voices dropping through the dinAn airy murmuring begin,—These floating flakes, so fine and thin,Were they and rock-laid earth akin?Some woman of the gods was she,The generous maiden in her glee?And did whole forests grow within?
A tissue rare as the hoar-frost,White as the mists spring dawns condemn,The shadowy wrinkles round her lost,She wrought with branch and anadem,Through the fine meshes netting them,Pomegranate-flower and leaf and stem.Dropping it o'er her diademTo float below her gold-stitched hem,Some duchess through the court should sailHazed in the cloud of this white veil,As when a rain-drop mists a gem.
Her tresses once when this was done,—Vanished the skein, the needle bare,—She dressed with wreaths vermilionBright as a trumpet's dazzling blare.Nor knew that in Queen Dido's hair,Loading the Carthaginian air,Ancestral blossoms flamed as fairAs any ever hanging there.While o'er her cheek their scarlet gleamShot down a vivid varying beam,Like sunshine on a brown-bronzed pear.
And then the veil thrown over her,The vapor of the snowy laceFell downward, as the gossamerTossed from the autumn winds' wild raceFalls round some garden-statue's grace.Beneath, the blushes on her faceFled with the Naiad's shifting chaseWhen flashing through a watery space.And in the dusky mirror glancedA splendid phantom, where there dancedAll brilliances in paler trace.
A spicery of sweet perfume,As if from regions rankly greenAnd these rich hoards of bud and bloom,Lay every waft of air between.Out of some heaven's unfancied screenThe gorgeous vision seemed to lean.The Oriental kings have seenLess beauty in their daïs-queen,And any limner's pencil thenHad drawn the eternal love of men,But twice Chance will not intervene.
For soon with scarce a loving sighShe lifts it off half unaware,While through the clinging folds held high,Arachnean in a silver snareHer rosy fingers nimbly fare,Till gathered square with dainty care.But still she leaves the flowery flare—Such as Dame Venus' self might wear—Where first she placed them, since they blowMore bounteous color hanging so,And seem more native to the air.
Anon the mellow twilight cameWith breath of quiet gently freedFrom sunset's felt but unseen flame.Then by her casement wheeled in speedStrange films, and half the wings indeedThat steam in rainbows o'er the mead,Now magnified in mystery, leadGreat revolutions to her heed.And leaning out, the night o'erhead,Wind-tossed in many a shining thread,Hung one long scarf of glittering brede.
Then as it drew its streamers there,And furled its sails to fill and flauntAlong fresh firmaments of airWhen ancient morn renewed his chant,—She sighed in thinking on the plantDrooping so languidly aslant;Fancied some fierce noon's forest-hauntWhere wild red things loll forth and pant,Their golden antlers wave, and stillSigh for a shower that shall distilThe largess gracious nights do grant.
The oleanders in the SouthDrape gray hills with their rose, she thought,The yellow-tasselled broom through drouthBathing in half a heaven is caught.Jasmine and myrtle flowers are soughtBy winds that leave them fragrance-fraught.To them the wild bee's path is taught,The crystal spheres of rain are brought,Beside them on some silent sprayThe nightingales sing night away,The darkness wooes them in such sort.
But this, close shut beneath a roof,Knows not the night, the tranquil spell,The stillness of the wildwood ouphe,The magic dropped on moor and fell.No cool dew soothes its fiery shell,Nor any star, a red sardel,Swings painted there as in a well.Dyed like a stream of muscadelNo white-skinned snake coils in its cupTo drink its soul of sweetness up,A honeyed hermit in his cell.
No humming-bird in emerald coat,Shedding the light, and bearing fainHis ebon spear, while at his throatThe ruby corselet sparkles plain,On wings of misty speed astainWith amber lustres, hangs amain,And tireless hums his happy strain;Emperor of some primeval reign,Over the ages sails to spillThe luscious juice of this, and thrillIts very heart with blissful pain.
As if the flowers had taken flightOr as the crusted gems should shootFrom hidden hollows, or as the lightHad blossomed into prisms to fluteIts secret that before was mute,Atoms where fire and tint dispute,No humming-birds here hunt their fruit.No burly bee with banded suitHere dusts him, no full ray by stealthSifts through it stained with warmer wealthWhere fair fierce butterflies salute.
Nor night nor day brings to my tree,She thought, the free air's choice extremes,But yet it grows as joyfullyAnd floods my chamber with its beams,So that some tropic land it seemsWhere oranges with ruddy gleams,And aloes, whose weird flowers the creamsOf long rich centuries one deems,Wave through the softness of the gloom,—And these may blush a deeper bloomBecause they gladden so my dreams.
The sudden street-lights in moresqueBroke through her tender murmuring,And on her ceiling shades grotesqueReeled in a bacchanalian swing.Then all things swam, and like a ringOf bubbles welling from a springBreaking in deepest coloringFlower-spirits paid her minist'ring.Sleep, fusing all her senses, soonFanned over her in drowsy runeAll night long a pomegranate wing.
* * * * *
On the head-waters of the Wabash, near Lake Erie, we first meet with those grassy plains to which the early French explorers of the West gave the name of Prairies. In Southern Michigan, they become more frequent; in the State of Indiana, still more so; and when we arrive in Illinois, we find ourselves in the Prairie State proper, three-quarters of its territory being open meadow, or prairie. Southern Wisconsin is partly of this character, and, on crossing the Mississippi, most of the surface of both Iowa and Minnesota is also prairie.
Illinois, with little exception, is one vast prairie,—dotted, it is true, with groves, and intersected with belts of timber, but still one great open plain. This State, then, being the type of the prairie lands, a sketch of its history, political, physical, and agricultural, will tolerably well represent that of the whole prairie region.
The State of Illinois was originally part of Florida, and belonged to Spain, by the usual tenure of European title in the sixteenth century, when the King of France or Spain was endowed by His Holiness with half a continent; the rights of the occupants of the soil never for a moment being considered. So the Spaniard, in 1541, having planted his flag at the mouth of the Mississippi, became possessed of the whole of the vast region watered by its tributary streams, and Illinois and Wisconsin became Spanish colonies, and all their native inhabitants vassals of His Most Catholic Majesty. The settlement of the country was, however, never attempted by the Spaniards, who devoted themselves to their more lucrative colonies in South America.
The French missionaries and fur-traders found their way from Canada into these parts at an early day; and in 1667 Robert de la Salle made his celebrated explorations, in which he took possession of the territory of Illinois in behalf of the French crown. And here we may remark, that the relations of the Jesuits and early explorers give a delightful picture of the native inhabitants of the prairies. Compared with their savage neighbors, the Illini seem to have been a favored people. The climate was mild, and the soil so fertile as to afford liberal returns even to their rude husbandry; the rivers and lakes abounded in fish and fowl; the groves swarmed with deer and turkeys,—bustards the French called them, after the large gallinaceous bird which they remembered on the plains of Normandy; and the vast expanse of the prairies was blackened by herds of wild cattle, or buffaloes. The influence of this fair and fertile land seems to have been felt by its inhabitants. They came to meet Father Marquette, offering the calumet, brilliant with many-colored plumes, with the gracious greeting,—"How beautiful is the sun, O Frenchman, when thou comest to us! Thou shalt enter in peace all our dwellings." A very different reception from that offered by the stern savages of Jamestown and Plymouth to John Smith and Miles Standish! So, in peace and plenty, remained for many years this paradise in the prairies.
About the year 1700, Illinois was included in Louisiana, and came under the sway of Louis XIV., who, in 1712, presented to Anthony Crozat the whole territory of Louisiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin,—a truly royal gift!
The fortunate recipient, however, having spent vast sums upon the territory without any returns, surrendered his grant to the crown a few years afterwards; and a trading company, called the Company of the Indies, was got up by the famous John Law, on the basis of these lands. The history of that earliest of Western land-speculations is too well known to need repetition; suffice it to say, that it was conducted upon a scale of magnificence in comparison with which our modern imitations in 1836 and 1856 were feeble indeed. A monument of it stood not many years ago upon the banks of the Mississippi, in the ruins of Fort Chartres, which was built by Law when at the height of his fortune, at a cost of several millions of livres, and which toppled over into the river in a recent inundation.
In 1759 the French power in North America was broken forever by Wolfe, upon the Plains of Abraham; and in 1763, by the Treaty of Paris, all the French possessions upon this continent were ceded to England, and the territory of the Illinois became part of the British empire.
Pontiac, the famous Ottawa chief, after fighting bravely on the French side through the war, refused to be transferred with the territory; he repaired to Illinois, where he was killed by a Peoria Indian. His tribe, the Ottawas, with their allies, the Pottawattomies and Chippewas, in revenge, made war upon the Peorias and their confederates, the Kaskaskias and Cahoklas, in which contest these latter tribes were nearly exterminated.
At this time, the French population of Illinois amounted to about three thousand persons, who were settled along the Mississippi and Illinois rivers, where their descendants remain to this day, preserving a well-defined national character in the midst of the great flood of Anglo-American immigration which rolls around them.
Illinois remained under British rule till the year 1778, when George Rogers Clarke, with four companies of Virginia rangers, marched from Williamsburg, a distance of thirteen hundred miles, through a hostile wilderness, captured the British posts of Kaskaskia and Cahokia, and annexed a territory larger than Great Britain to the new Republic. Many of Colonel Clarke's rangers, pleased with the beauty and fertility of the country, settled in Illinois; but the Indians were so numerous and hostile, that the settlers were obliged to live in fortified stations, or block-houses, and the population remained very scanty for many years.
In 1809 Illinois was made into a separate Territory, and Ninian Edwards appointed its first Governor.
During the War of 1812, Tecumseh, an Indian chief of remarkable ability, endeavored to form a coalition of all the tribes against the Americans, but with only partial success. He inflicted severe losses upon them, but was finally defeated and slain at the Battle of the Thames, leaving behind him the reputation of being the greatest hero and noblest patriot of his race.
In 1818, Illinois, then having a population of about forty-five thousand, was admitted into the Union. The State was formed out of that territory which by the Ordinance of 1787 was dedicated to freedom; but there was a strong party in the State who wished for the introduction of slavery, and in order to effect this it was necessary to call a convention to amend the Constitution. On this arose a desperate contest between the two principles, and it ended in the triumph of freedom. Among those opposed to the introduction of slavery were Morris Birkbeck, Governor Coles, David Blackwell, Judge Lockwood, and Daniel P. Cook. It was a fitting memorial of the latter, that the County of Cook, containing the great commercial city of Chicago, should bear his name. The names of the pro-slavery leaders we will leave to oblivion.
In 1824 the lead mines near Galena began to be worked to advantage, and thousands of persons from Southern Illinois and Missouri swarmed thither. The Illinoisans ran up the river in the spring, worked in the mines during the summer, and returned to their homes down the river in the autumn,—thus resembling in their migrations the fish so common in the Western waters, called the Sucker. It was also observed that great hordes of uncouth ruffians came up to the mines from Missouri, and it was therefore said that she had vomited forth all her worst population. Thenceforth the Missourians were called "Pukes," and the people of Illinois "Suckers."
From 1818 to 1830, the commerce of the State made but small progress. At this time, there were one or two small steamboats upon the Illinois River, but most of the navigation was carried on in keel-boats. The village merchants were mere retailers; they purchased no produce, except a few skins and furs, and a little beeswax and honey. The farmers along the rivers did their own shipping,—building flat-boats, which, having loaded with corn, flour, and bacon, they would float down to New Orleans, which was the only market accessible to them. The voyage was long, tedious, and expensive, and when the farmer arrived, he found himself in a strange city, where all were combined against him, and often he was cheated out of his property,—returning on foot by a long and dangerous journey to a desolate farm, which had been neglected during his absence. Thus two crops were sometimes lost in taking one to market.
The manners and customs of the people were simple and primitive. The costume of the men was a raccoon-skin cap, linsey hunting-shirt, buck-skin leggings and moccasons, with a butcher-knife in the belt. The women wore cotton or woollen frocks, striped with blue dye and Turkey-red, and spun, woven, and made with their own hands; they went barefooted and bareheaded, except on Sundays, when they covered the head with a cotton handkerchief. It is told of a certain John Grammar, for many years a representative from Union County, and a man of some note in the State councils, though he could neither read nor write, that in 1816, when he was first elected, lacking the necessary apparel, he and his sons gathered a large quantity of hazel-nuts, which they took to the nearest town and sold for enough blue strouding to make a suit of clothes. The pattern proved to be scanty, and the women of the household could only get out a very bob-tailed coat and leggings. With these Mr. Grammar started for Kaskaskia, the seat of government, and these he continued to wear till the passage of an appropriation bill enabled him to buy a civilized pair of breeches.
The distinctions in manners and dress between the higher and lower classes were more marked than at present; for while John Grammar wore blue strouding, we are told that Governor Edwards dressed in fine broadcloth, white-topped boots, and a gold-laced cloak, and rode about the country in a fine carriage, driven by a negro.
In those days justice was administered without much parade or ceremony. The judges held their courts mostly in log houses or in the bar-rooms of taverns, fitted up with a temporary bench for the judge, and chairs for the lawyers and jurors. At the first Circuit Court in Washington County, held by Judge John Reynolds, the sheriff, on opening the court, went out into the yard, and said to the people, "Boys, come in; our John is going to hold court." The judges were unwilling to decide questions of law, preferring to submit everything to the jury, and seldom gave them instructions, if they could avoid it. A certain judge, being ambitious to show his learning, gave very pointed directions to the jury, but they could not agree on a verdict. The judge asked the cause of their difference, when the foreman answered with great simplicity,—"Why, Judge, this 'ere's the difficulty: the jury wants to know whether that 'ar what you told us, when we went out, was r'aly the law, or whether it was on'y jist your notion."
In the spring of 1831, Black Hawk, a Sac chief, dissatisfied with the treaty by which his tribe had been removed across the Mississippi, recrossed the river at the head of three or four hundred warriors, and drove away the white settlers from his old lands near the mouth of the Rock River. This was considered an invasion of the State, and Governor Reynolds called for volunteers. Fifteen hundred men answered the summons, and the Indians were driven out. The next spring, however, Black Hawk returned with a larger force, and commenced hostilities by killing some settlers on Indian Creek, not far from Ottawa. A large force of volunteers was again called out, but in the first encounter the whites were beaten, which success encouraged the Sacs and Foxes so much that they spread themselves over the whole of the country between the Mississippi and the Lake, and kept up a desultory warfare for three or four months against the volunteer troops. About the middle of July, a body of volunteers under General Henry of Illinois pursued the Indians into Wisconsin, and by forced marches brought them to action near the Mississippi, before the United States troops, under General Atkinson, could come up. The Indians fought desperately, but were unable to stand long before the courage and superior numbers of the whites. They escaped across the river with the loss of nearly three hundred, killed in the action, or drowned in the retreat. The loss of the Illinois volunteers was about thirty, killed and wounded.
This defeat entirely broke the power of the Sacs and Foxes, and they sued for peace. Black Hawk, and some of his head men, were taken prisoners, and kept in confinement for several months, when, after a tour through the country, to show them the numbers and power of the whites, they were set at liberty on the west side of the Mississippi. In 1840 Black Hawk died, at the age of eighty years, on the banks of the great river which he loved so well.
After the Black-Hawk War, the Indian title being extinguished, and the country open to settlers, Northern Illinois attracted great attention, and increased wonderfully in wealth and population.
In 1830, the population of the State amounted to 157,445; in 1840, to 476,183; in 1850, to 851,470; in 1860, to 1,719,496.
* * * * *
Situated in the centre of the United States, the State of Illinois extends from 37° to 42° 30' N. latitude, and from 10° 47' to 14° 26' W. longitude from Washington. The State is 378 miles long from North to South, and 212 miles broad from East to West. Its area is computed at 55,408 square miles, or 35,459,200 acres, less than two millions of which are called swamp lands, the remaining thirty-three millions being tillable land of unsurpassed fertility.
The State of Illinois forms the lower part of that slope which embraces the greater part of Indiana, and of which Lake Michigan, with its shores, forms the upper part. At the lowest part of this slope, and of the State, is the city of Cairo, situated about 350 feet above the level of the Gulf of Mexico, at the confluence of the Ohio and the Mississippi; hence, the highest place in Illinois being only 800 feet above the level of the sea, it will appear that the whole State, though containing several hilly sections, is a pretty level plain, being, with the exception of Delaware and Louisiana, the flattest country in the Union.
The State contains about twenty-five considerable streams, and brooks and rivulets innumerable. There are no large lakes within its borders, though it has some sixty miles of Lake Michigan for its boundary on the east. Small clear lakes and ponds abound, particularly in the northern portion of the State.
As to the quality of the soil, Illinois is divided as follows:—
First, the alluvial land on the margins of the rivers, and extending back from half a mile to six or eight miles. This soil is of extraordinary fertility, and, wherever it is elevated, makes the best farming land in the State. Where it is low, and exposed to inundations, it is very unsafe to attempt its cultivation. The most extensive tract of this kind is the so-called American Bottom, which received this name when it was the western boundary of the United States. It extends from the junction of the Kaskaskia and Mississippi, along the latter, to the mouth of the Missouri, containing about 288,000 acres.
Secondly, the table-land, fifty to a hundred feet higher than the alluvial; it consists principally of prairies, which, according to their respectively higher or lower situations, are either dry or marshy.
Thirdly, the hilly sections of the State, which, consisting alternately of wood and prairie, are not, on the whole, as fertile as either the alluvial or the table-land.
There are no mountains in Illinois; but in the southern as well as the northern part, there are a few hills. Near the banks of the principal rivers the ground is elevated into bluffs, on which may be still found the traces left by water, which was evidently once much higher than it now is; whence it is inferred, that, where the fertile plains of Illinois now extend, there must once have been a vast sheet of water, the mud deposited by which formed the soil, thus accounting for the great fertility of the prairies.
* * * * *
As we have said, the entire area of Illinois seems at one period to have been an ocean-bed, which has not since been disturbed by any considerable upheaval. The present irregularities of the surface are clearly traceable to the washing out and carrying away of the earth. The Illinois River has washed out a valley about two hundred and fifty feet deep, and from one and a half to six miles wide. The perfect regularity of the beds of mountain limestone, sandstone, and coal, as they are found protruding from the bluffs on each side of this valley, on the same levels, is pretty conclusive evidence that the valley itself owes its existence to the action of water. That the channels of the rivers have been gradually sunken, we may distinctly see by the shores of the Upper Mississippi, where are walls of rock, rising perpendicularly, which extend from Lake Pepin to below the mouth of the Wisconsin, as if they were walls built of equal height by the hand of man. Wherever the river describes a curve, walls may be found on the convex side of it.
The upper coal formation occupies three-fifths of the State, commencing at 41° 12' North latitude, where, as also along the Mississippi, whose banks it touches between the places of its junction with the Illinois and Missouri rivers, it is enclosed by a narrow layer of calcareous coal. The shores of Lake Michigan, and that narrow strip of land, which, commencing near them, runs along the northern bank of the Illinois towards its southwestern bend, until it meets Rock River at its mouth, belong to the Devonian system. The residue of the northern part of the State consists of Silurian strata, which, containing the rich lead mines of Galena in the northwest corner of the State, rise at intervals into conical hills, giving the landscape a character different from that of the middle or southern portion. Scattered along the banks of rivers, and in the middle of prairies, are frequently found large masses of granite and other primitive rocks. Since the nearest beds of primitive rocks first appear in Minnesota and the northern part of Wisconsin, their presence here can be accounted for only by assuming that at the time this region was covered with water they were floated down from the North, enclosed and supported in masses of ice, which, melting, allowed the rocks to sink to the bottom. A still further proof of the presence of the ocean here in former times is to be found in the sea-shells which occur upon many of the higher knolls and bluffs west of the Mississippi in Iowa.
Illinois contains probably more coal than any other State in the Union. It is mined at a small depth below the surface, and crops out upon the banks of most of the streams in the middle of the State. These mines have been very imperfectly worked till within a few years; but it is found, that, as the work goes deeper, the quality of the coal improves, and in some of the later excavations is equal to the best coals of Ohio and Pennsylvania, and will undoubtedly prove a source of immense wealth to the State.
The two northwestern counties of the State form a part of the richest and most extensive lead region in the world. During the year 1855, the product of these mines, shipped from the single port of Galena, was 430,365 pigs of lead, worth $1,732,219.02.
Copper has been found in large quantities in the northern counties, and also in the southern portion of the State. Some of the zinc ores are found in great quantities at the lead mines near Galena, but have not yet been utilized. Silver has been found in St. Clair County, whence Silver Creek has derived its name. It is said that in early times the French sunk a shaft here, from which they obtained large quantities of the metal. Iron is found in many parts of the State, and the ores have been worked to considerable extent.
Among other valuable mineral products may be mentioned porcelain and potter's clay, fire clay, fuller's earth, limestone of many varieties, sandstone, marble, and salt springs.
* * * * *
Illinois has an average temperature, which, if compared with that of Europe, corresponds to that of Middle Germany; its winters are more severe than those of Copenhagen, and its summers as warm as those of Milan or Palermo. Compared with other States of the Union, Northern Illinois possesses a temperature similar to that of Southern New York, while the temperature of Southern Illinois will not differ much from that of Kentucky or Virginia. By observations of the thermometer during twenty years, in the southern part of the State, on the Mississippi, the mercury, once in that period, fell to-25°, and four times it rose above 100°, Fahrenheit.
The prevailing winds are either western or southeastern. The severest storms are those coming from the west, which traverse the entire space between the Rocky Mountains and the Atlantic coast in forty-eight hours.
There are on an average eighty-nine rainy days in the year; the quantity of rain falling amounts to forty-two inches,—the smallest amount being in January, and the largest in June. The average number of thunder-storms in a year is forty-nine; of clear days, one hundred and thirty-seven; of changeable days, one hundred and eighty-three; and of days without sunshine, forty-five.
* * * * *
The vegetation of the State forms the connecting link between the Flora of the Northeastern States and that of the Upper Mississippi,—exhibiting, besides the plants common to all the States lying between the Mississippi and the Atlantic Ocean, such as are, properly speaking, natives of the Western prairies, not being found east of the Alleghany Mountains. Immense grassy plains, interlaced with groves, which are found also along the watercourses, cover two-thirds of the entire area of the State in the North, while the southern part is garnished with heavy timber.
No work which we have seen gives so good an account of the Flora of the prairies as the one by Frederick Gerhard, called "Illinois as it is." We have been indebted to this work for a good deal of valuable matter, and shall now make some further extracts from it.
"Before we finally turn our backs on the last scattered houses of the village, we find both sides of the road lined with ugly worm-fences, which are overtopped by the various species of Helianthus, Thistles, Biennial Gaura, and the Illinoisian Bell-flower with cerulean blossoms, and other tall weeds. Here may also be found the coarse-hairedAsclepias tuberosa, with fiery red umbels, the strong-scentedMonarda fistulosa, and an umbelliferous plant, the grass-like, spiculated leaves of which recall to mind the Southern Agaves, theEryngo.Among these children of Nature rises the civilized plant, the Indian Corn, with its stalks nearly twelve feet high."
"Having now arrived at the end of the cultivated lands, we enter upon the dry prairies, extending up the bluffs, where we meet the small vermilion Sorrel(Rumex acetosella)and Mouse-ear, which, however, do not reside here as foreigners, but as natives, like many other plants that remind the European of his native country, as, for instance, the Dandelion(Taraxacum officinale); a kind of Rose,(Rosa lucida,)with its sweet-scented blossoms, has a great predilection for this dry soil. With surprise we meet here also with many plants with hairy, greenish-gray leaves and stalk-covers, as, for instance, theOnosmodium molle, Hieracium longipilum, Pycnanthemum pilosum, Chrysopsis villosa, Amorpha canescens, Tephrosia Virginiana, Lithospermum canescens;between which the immigrated Mullein(Verbuscum thapsus)may be found. The pebbly fragments of the entire slope, which during spring-time were sparingly covered with dwarfish herbs, such as theAndrosace occidentalis, Draba Caroliniana, Plantago Virginica, Scutellaria parvula,are now crowded with plants of taller growth and variegated blossoms.Rudbeckia hirta, with its numerous radiating blossoms of a lively yellow, and the closely alliedEchinacea purpurea, whose long purple rays hang down from a ruddy hemispherical disc, are the most remarkable among plants belonging to the genusCompositoe, which blossom early in summer; in the latter part of summer follow innumerable plants of the different species,Liatris, Vernonia, Aster, Solidago, Helianthus, etc."
"We approach a sinuous chasm of the bluffs, having better soil and underwood, which, thin at first, increases gradually in density. Low bushes, hardly a foot high, are formed by the American Thistle,(Ceanothus Americanus,)a plant whose leaves were used instead of tea, in Boston, during the Revolution. Next follow the Hazel-bush,(Corylus Americana,)the fiery-redCastilleja coccinea,and the yellow Canadian Louse-wort; theDipteracanthus strepens, with great blue funnel-shaped blossoms, and theGerardia pedicularia, are fond of such places; and where the bushes grow higher, and theRhus glabra, Zanthoxylum Americanum, Ptelea trifoliata, Staphylea trifolia,together withRibes-Rubus Pyrus, Cornus, and Cratoegus,form an almost impenetrable thicket, surrounded and garlanded by the round-leaved, rough Bindweed,(Smilax rotundifolia,)andDioscorea villosa, the Climbing Rose,(Rosa setigera,) Celastrus scandens, remarkable for its beautiful red fruits, _Clematis Virginiana, Polygonum, Convolvulus, and other vines, these weedy herbs attempt to overtop the bushes."
"We now enter upon the illimitable prairie which lies before us, the fertile prairie, in whose undulating surface the moisture is retained; this waits for cultivation, and will soon be deprived of its flowery attire, and bear plain, but indispensable grain. Those who have not yet seen such a prairie should not imagine it like a cultivated meadow, but rather a heaving sea of tall herbs and plants, decking it with every variety of color.
"In the summer, the yellow of the largeCompositewill predominate, intermingled with the blue of the Tradescantias, the fiery red of the Lilies, (Lilium PhiladelphicumandLilium Canadense,) the purple of the Phlox, the white of theCacalia tuberosa, Melanthium Virginicum,and the umbelliferous plants. In spring, small-sized plants bloom here, such as the Anemone, with its blue and white blossoms, the Palmated Violet, the Ranunculus, which are the first ornaments of the prairies in spring; then follow the Esculent Sea-Onion,Pentaloplius longiflorus, Lithospermum hirtum, Cynthia Virginica,andBaptisia leucophaea. As far as the eye reaches, no house nor tree can be seen; but where civilization has come, the farmer has planted small rows of the quickly growing Black Acacia, which affords shelter from the sun to his cattle and fuel for his hearth."
"We now enter the level part of the forest, which has a rich black soil. Great sarmentous plants climb here up to the tops of the trees: wild Grapes, the climbing, poisonous Sumach, (Rhus toxicodendron,) and the vine-like Cinque-foil, which transforms withered, naked trunks into green columns, Bignonias, with their brilliant scarlet trumpet-flowers, are the most remarkable. TheThuja occidentalis,which may be met with in European gardens, stands in mournful solitude on the margins of pools; here and there an isolalod Cedar, (Juniperus Virginiana) and the low Box-tree, (Taxus Canadensis) are in Illinois the only representatives of the evergreens, forests of which first appear in the northern part of Wisconsin and Minnesota."
"Flowers of the most brilliant hues bedeck the rivers' banks; above all, theLobelia cardinalisandLobelia syphilitica, of the deepest carmine and cerulean tinge, the yellowCassia Marilandica, and the delicateRosa blanda, a rose without thorns; also theScrophularia nodosa."
"On the marshy ground thrive theIris versicolor, Asclepias incarnata, the Primrose-tree, Liver-wort, the tallPhysostegia Virginiana, with rosy-red blossoms, and theHelenium autumnale, in which the yellow color predominates. In spring, the dark violet blossom of theAmorpha fruticosadiffuses its fragrance."
"Entering a boat on the river, where we cannot touch the bottom with the oar, we perceive a little white flower waving to and fro, supported by long spiral halms between straight, grass-like leaves. This is theVallisneria spiralis, a remarkable plant, which may be also met with in Southern Europe, especially in the Canal of Languedoc, and regarding the fructification of which different opinions prevail."
"Nearer to the land, we observe similar grass-like leaves, but with little yellow stellated flowers: these belong to the order ofSchollera graminea. Other larger leaves belong to the Amphibious Polygony, and different species of thePotamogeton,the ears of whose blossoms rise curiously above the surface of the water. Clearing our way through a row of tall swamp weeds,Zizania aquatica, Scirpus lacustris, Scirpus pungens, among which the white flowers ofSparganium ramosumandSagittaria variabilisare conspicuous, we steer into a large inlet entirely covered with the broad leaves of theNymphaea odoralaand theNelumbium luteum, of which the former waves its beautiful flower on the surface of the river, while the latter, the queen, in fact, of the waters, proudly raises her magnificent crown upon a perpendicular footstalk. On the opposite bank, the evening breeze lifts the triangular leaves and rosy-red flowers of the Marsh-Mallow, overhung by Gray Willows and the Silver-leaved Maple and the Red Maple, on which a flock of white herons have alighted."
In all the rivers and swamps of the Northwest grows the Wild Rice, (Zizania aquatica,) a plant which was' formerly very important to the Indians as food, and now attracts vast flocks of waterfowl to feed upon it in the season. In autumn the squaws used to go in their canoes to these natural rice-fields, and, bending the tall stalks over the gunwale, beat out the heads of grain with their paddles into the canoe. It is mentioned among the dainties at Hiawatha's wedding-feast:—
"Haunch of deer, and hump of bison,Yellow cakes of the Momdamin,And the wild rice of the river."
The Fruits of the forest are Strawberries, Blackberries, Raspberries,Gooseberries, in some barren spots Whortleberries, Mulberries,Grapes, Wild Plums and Cherries, Crab-Apples, the Persimmon, Pawpaw,Hickory-nuts, Hazel-nuts, and Walnuts.
The Timber-trees are,—of the Oaks,Quercus alba, Quercus macrocarpa, Quercus tinctoria, Quercus imbricaria,—Hard and Soft Maples,—and of the Hickories,Carya alba, Carya tomentosa, and Carya amara. Other useful timber-trees are the Ash, Cherry, several species of Elm, Linden, and Ironwood (Carpinus Americana).
Of Medicinal Plants, we findCassia Marilandica, Polygala Senega,Sanguinaria Canadensis, Lobelia inflata, Phytolacca decandra,Podophyllum peliatum, Sassafras officinale.
Various species of the Vine are native here, and the improved varieties succeed admirably in the southern counties.
The early travellers in this region mention the great herds of wild cattle which roamed over the prairies in those times, but the last Buffalo on the east side of the Mississippi was killed in 1832; and now the hunter who would see this noble game must travel some hundreds of miles west, to the head-waters of the Kansas or the Platte. The Elk, which was once so common in Illinois, has also receded before the white man, and the Deer is fast following his congener. On the great prairies south of Chicago, where, fifteen years ago, one might find twenty deer in a day's tramp, not one is now to be seen. Two species of Hare occur here, and several Tree Squirrels, the Red, Black, Gray, Mottled, and the Flying; besides these, there are two or three which live under ground. The Beaver is nearly or quite extinct, but the Otter remains, and the Musk-Rat abounds on all the river-banks and marshes.
Of carnivorous animals, we have the Panther and Black Bear in the wooded portions of the State, though rare; the Lynx, the Gray and Black Wolf, and the Prairie Wolf; the Skunk, the Badger, the Woodchuck, the Raccoon, and, in the southern part of the State, the Opossum.
Mr. Lapham of Wisconsin has published a list of the birds of that State, which will also answer for Northern Illinois. He enumerates two hundred and ninety species, which, we think, is below the number which visit the central parts of Illinois. From the central position of this State, most of the birds of the United States are found here at one season or another. For instance, among the rapacious birds, we have the three Eagles which visit America, the White-Headed, the Washington, and the Golden or Royal Eagle. Of Hawks and Falcons, fourteen or fifteen species, among which are the beautiful Swallow-tailed Hawk, and that noble falcon, the Peregrine. Ten or twelve Owls, among which, as a rare visitor, we find the Great Gray Owl, (Syrnium cinereum,) and the Snowy Owl, which is quite common in the winter season on the prairies, preying upon grouse and hares. Of the Vultures, we have two, as summer visitors, the Turkey-Buzzard and the Black Vulture.
Of omnivorous birds, sixteen or eighteen species, among which is the Raven, which here takes the place of the Crow, the two species not being able to live together, as the stronger robber drives away the weaker. Of the insectivorous birds, some sixty or seventy species are found here, among which is the Mocking-Bird, in the middle and southern districts. Thirty-five to forty species of granivorous birds, among which we occasionally find in winter that rare Arctic bird, the Evening Grosbeak. Of theZygodachyli, fourteen species, among which is found the Paquet, in the southern part of the State.Tenuirostres, five species. Of the Kingfishers, one species. Swallows and Goat-suckers, nine species. Of the Pigeons, two, the Turtle-Dove and the Passenger Pigeon, of which the latter visit us twice a year, in immense flocks.
Of the gallinaceous birds, the Turkey, which is found in the heavy timber in the river bottoms; the Quail, which has become very abundant all over the State, within twenty years, following, it would seem, the march of civilization and settlement; the Ruffed Grouse, abundant in the timber, but never seen on the prairie; the Pinnated Grouse, or Prairie Hen, always found on the open plains. These birds increased very much in number after the settlement of the State, owing probably to the increase of food for them, and the decrease of their natural enemies, the prairie wolves; but since the building of railroads, so many are killed to supply the demands of New York and other Eastern cities, that they are now decreasing very rapidly, and in a very few years the sportsman will have to cross the Mississippi to find a pack of grouse. The Sharp-tailed Grouse, an occasional visitor in winter from Wisconsin, is found in the timbered country.
Of wading birds, from forty to fifty species, among which the Sand-Hill Crane is very abundant, and the Great White or Whooping Crane very rare, although supposed by some authors to be the same bird in different stages of plumage.
Of the lobe-footed birds, seven species, of which is the rare and beautiful Wilson's Phalarope, which breeds in the wet prairies near Chicago.
Of web-footed birds, about forty species, among which are two Swans and five Geese. Among the Ducks, the Canvas-Back is found; but, owing to the want of its favorite food in the Chesapeake, theVallisneria, it is, in our waters, a very ordinary duck, as an article of food.
The waters of Illinois abound with fish, of which class we enumerate,—
Species Species
Percidae, 3 Pomotis, 2Labrax, 3 Cottus, 2Lucioperca, 2 Corvina, 1Huro, 1 Pimelodus, 5Centrarchus, 3 Leuciscus, 6Hydrargea, 2 Corregomus, 3Esox, 3 Amia, 1Hyodon, 1 Lepidosteus, 3Lota, 2 Accipenser, 3
Of these, the Perch, White, Black, and Rock Bass, the Pike-Perch, theCatfish, the Pike and Muskalonge, the Whitefish, the Lake Trout, and theSturgeon are valuable fishes for the table.
Of the class of Reptiles, we have among the Lizards the Mud-Devil, (Menopoma Alleghaniensis,) which grows in the sluggish streams to the length of two feet; alsoTriton dorsalis,Necturus lateralis,Ambystoma punctata.
Of the Snakes, we find three venomous species, the Rattlesnake, theMassasauga, and the Copper-Head. The largest serpents are the BlackSnake, five feet long, and the Milk Snake, from five to six feet inlength.
Among the Turtles isEmys picta,Chelonura serpentina, andCistuda clausa.
Of the Frogs, we haveRana sylvatica,Rana palustris, andRana pipiens, nearly two feet long, and loud-voiced in proportion,—a Bull-Frog, indeed!
Various theories and speculations have been formed as to the origin of the prairies. One of them, is, that the forests which formerly occupied these plains were swept away at some remote period by fire; and that the annual fires set by the Indians have continued this state of things. Another theory is, that the violent winds which sweep over them have prevented the growth of trees; a third, that want of rain forbids their growth; a fourth, that the agency of water has produced the effect; and lastly, a learned professor at the last meeting of the Scientific Convention put forth his theory, which was, that the real cause of the absence of trees from the prairies is the mechanical condition of the soil, which is, he thinks, too fine,—a coarse, rocky soil being, in his estimation, a necessary condition of the growth of trees.
Most of these theories seem to be inconsistent with the plain facts of the case. First, we know that these prairies existed in their present condition when the first white man visited them, two hundred years ago; and also that similar treeless plains exist in South America and Central Africa, and have so existed ever since those countries were known. We are told by travellers in those regions, that the natives have the same custom of annually burning the dry grass and herbage for the same reason that our Indians did it, and that the early white settlers kept up the custom,—namely, to promote the growth of young and tender feed for the wild animals which the former hunted and the cattle which the latter live by grazing.
Another fact, well known to all settlers in the prairie, is, that it is only necessary to keep out the fires by fences or ditches, and a thick growth of trees will spring up on the prairies. Many fine groves now exist all over Illinois, where nothing grew twenty years ago but the wild grasses and weeds; and we have it on record, that locust-seed, sown on the prairie near Quincy, in four years produced trees with a diameter of trunk of four to six inches, and in seven years had become large enough for posts and rails. So with fruit-trees, which nowhere flourish with more strength and vigor than in this soil,—too much so, indeed, since they are apt to run to wood rather than fruit. Moreover, the soil in the groves and on the river bottoms, where trees naturally grow, is the same, chemically and mechanically, as that of the open prairie; the same winds sweep over both, and the same rain falls upon both; so that it would seem that the absence of trees cannot be attributed wholly to fire, water, wind, or soil, but is owing to a combination of two or more of those agencies.
But from whatever cause the prairies originated, they have no doubt been perpetuated by the fires which annually sweep over their surface. Where the soil is too wet to sustain a heavy growth of grass, there is no prairie. Timber is found along the streams, almost invariably,—and, where the banks are high and dry, will usually be found on the east bank of those streams whose course is north and south. This is caused by the fact that the prevailing winds are from the west, and bring the fire with them till it reaches the stream, which forms a barrier and protects the vegetation on the other side.
If any State in the Union is adapted to agriculture, and the various branches of rural economy, such as stock-raising, wool-growing, or fruit-culture, it must surely be Illinois, where the fertile natural meadows invite the plough, without the tedious process of clearing off timber, which, in many parts of the country, makes it the labor of a lifetime to bring a farm under good cultivation. Here, the farmer who is satisfied with such crops as fifty bushels of corn to the acre, eighteen of wheat, or one hundred of potatoes, has nothing to do but to plough, sow, and reap; no manure, and but little attention, being necessary to secure a yield like this. Hence a man of very small means can soon become independent on the prairies. If, however, one is ambitious of raising good crops, and doing the best he can with his land, let him manure liberally and cultivate diligently; nowhere will land pay for good treatment better than here.
Mr. J. Ambrose Wight, of Chicago, the able editor of the "PrairieFarmer," writes as follows:—
"From an acquaintance with Illinois lands and Illinois farmers, of eighteen years, during thirteen of which I have been editor of the 'Prairie Farmer,' I am prepared to give the following as the rates of produce which may be had per acre, with ordinary culture:—
Winter Wheat, 15 to 25 Bushels.Spring " 10 to 20 "Corn, 40 to 70 "Oats, 40 to 60 "Potatoes, 100 to 200 "Grass, Timothy and Clover, 1-1/2 to 3 Tons.
"Ordinary culture, on prairie lands, is not what is meant by the term in the Eastern or Middle States. It means here, no manure, and commonly but once, or at most twice, ploughing, on perfectly smooth land, with long furrows, and no stones or obstructions; where two acres per day is no hard job for one team. It is often but very poor culture, with shallow ploughing, and without attention to weeds. I have known crops, not unfrequently, far greater than these, with but little variation in their treatment: say, 40 to 50 bushels of winter wheat, 60 to 80 of oats, and 100 of Indian corn, or 300 of potatoes.Good culture, which means rotation, deep ploughing, farms well stocked, and some manure applied at intervals of from three to five years, would, in good seasons, very often approach these latter figures."
We will now give the results of a very detailed account of the management of a farm of 240 acres, in Kane County, Illinois, an average farm as to soil and situation, but probably much above the average in cultivation,—at least, we should judge so from the intelligent and business-like manner in which the account is kept; every crop having a separate account kept with it in Dr. and Cr., to show the net profit or loss of each.
23 acres of Wheat, 30 bushels per acre, net profit $453.00 17-1/2 " " on Corn ground, 22-1/2 " " " 278.50 9-1/2 " Spring Wheat, 24 " " " 159.70 2-1/2 " Winter Rye, 22-7/12 " " " 10.25 5-1/2 " Barley, 33-1/4 " " " 32.55 12 " Oats, 87-1/2 " " " 174.50 28-1/2 " Corn, 60 " " " 638.73 1 " Potatoes, 150 " " " 27.50 103 Sheep, average weight of fleece, 3-1/2 lbs., " 177.83 15 head of Cattle and one Colt " 103.00 1500 lbs. Pork " 35.00 Fruit, Honey, Bees, and Poultry " 73.75 21 acres Timothy Seed, 4 bushels per acre, " 123.00 ———— $2287.31
A farm of this size, so situated, with the proper buildings and stock, may, at the present price of land, be supposed to represent a capital of $15,000—on which sum the above account gives an interest of over 15 per cent. Is there any other part of the country where the same interest can be realized on farming capital?
But this farm of 240 acres is a mere retail affair to many farms in theState. We will give some examples on a larger scale.
"Winstead Davis came to Jonesboro', Illinois, from Tennessee, thirty years ago, without means of any kind; now owns many thousand acres of land, and has under cultivation, this year, from 2500 to 3000 acres."
"W. Willard, native of Vermont, commenced penniless; now owns more than 10,000 acres of land, and cultivates 2000."
"Jesse Funk, near Bloomington, Illinois, began the world thirty years ago, at rail-splitting, at twenty-five cents the hundred. He bought land, and raised cattle; kept increasing his lands and herds, till he now owns 7000 acres of land, and sells over 840,000 worth of cattle and hogs annually.
"Isaac Funk, brother of the above, began in the same way, at the same time. He has gone ahead of Jesse; forheowns 27,000 acres of land, has 4000 in cultivation, and his last year's sales of cattle amounted to $65,000."
It is evident that the brothers Funk are men of administrative talent; they would have made a figure in Wall Street, could have filled cabinet office at Washington, or, perhaps, could even have "kept a hotel."
These are but specimens of the large-acred men of Illinois. Hundreds of others there are, who farm on nearly the same scale.
The great difficulty in carrying on farming operations on a large scale in Illinois has always been the scarcity of labor. Land is cheap and plenty, but labor scarce and dear: exactly the reverse of what obtains in England, where land is dear and labor cheap. It must be evident that a different kind of farming would be found here from that in use in older countries. There, the best policy is to cultivate a few acres well; here, it has been found more profitable to skim over a large surface. But within a few years the introduction of labor-saving machines has changed the conditions of farming, and has rendered it possible to give good cultivation to large tracts of land with few men. Many of the crops are now put in by machines, cultivated by machines, and harvested by machine. If, as seems probable, the steam-plough of Fawkes shall become a success, the revolution in farming will be complete. Already some of the large farmers employ wind or steam power in various ways to do the heavy work, such as cutting and grinding food for cattle and hogs, pumping water, etc.
Although the soil and climate of Illinois are well adapted to fruit-culture, yet, from various causes, it has not, till lately, been much attended to. The early settlers of Southern and Middle Illinois were mostly of the Virginia race, Hoosiers,—who are a people of few wants. If they have hog-meat and hominy, whiskey and tobacco, they are content; they will not trouble themselves to plant fruit-trees. The early settlers in the North were, generally, very poor men; they could not afford to buy fruit-trees, for the produce of which they must wait several years. Wheat, corn, and hogs were the articles which could be soonest converted into money, and those they raised. Then the early attempts at raising fruit were not very successful. The trees were brought from the East, and were either spoiled by the way, or were unsuited to this region. But the great difficulty has been the want of drainage. Fruit-trees cannot be healthy with wet feet for several months of the year, and this they are exposed to on these level lands. With proper tile-draining, so that the soil shall be dry and mellow early in the spring, we think that the apple, the pear, the plum, and the cherry will succeed on the prairies anywhere in Illinois. The peach and the grape flourish in the southern part of the State, already, with very little care; in St. Clair County, the culture of the latter has been carried on by the Germans for many years, and the average yield of Catawba wine has been two hundred gallons per acre. The strawberry grows wild all over the State, both in the timber and the prairie; and the cultivated varieties give very fine crops. All the smaller fruits do well here, and the melon family find in this soil their true home; they are raised by the acre, and sold by the wagon-load, in the neighborhood of Chicago.
Stock-raising is undoubtedly the most profitable kind of farming on the prairies, which are so admirably adapted to this species of rural economy, and Illinois is already at the head of the cattle-breeding States. There were shipped from Chicago in 1860, 104,122 head of live cattle, and 114,007 barrels of beef.