But I see no way in which slavery can be abolished without the aid of the slaveholders. This kind of property is guaranteed to them by the supreme law of the land, and to give it up, must be a voluntary act. It appears to me, the course things are now taking at the North, instead of winning the aid of the South, tends directly to brace them against emancipation. It appears to the South, as an officious interference in their affairs, in the most offensive form.
What would we think, if the South should employ a scavenger, to pick up all the private and public acts of cruelty of the northern people; such asthe whipping of the boy by Arnold, the starving to death of another by Fernald, &c. &c. &c.; and then, set up a press, expressly to blazon forth these cruelties; and hire itinerant lecturers to go about and proclaim to a southern audience, in the highest strains of impassioned eloquence, the wickedness, corruptions and enormities of the citizens of the North! And say, they "had waited forty years" for the northern people to reform themselves; which was time enough, and they would wait no longer. They, therefore, were justified in holding them up to the scorn and reproach of all human kind! When the North knew, and all the world knew, they were no better than they should be at home; that they had work of reform enough near at hand; and that they had no legal right to interfere, and could have no legal action upon the subject. And although the avowed object was the reform of the northern people, yet they kept aloof from them, and hurled their poisoned arrows at a distance, alleging that they might in their patriotic zeal, so much arouse their indignation, that it would be unsafe to go near them. What would northern people say to all this! Should we say, go on, brethren! God speed! Or should we say, this is mean, cowardly business—empty boasting—gasconade! These people may not, indeed, be guilty of this particular thing of which they accuse us; and that is the very reason why they choose this subject for accusation—why they walk so proudly erect—ring allthe changes and make the most of it. It is to triumph over us, and build up themselves on our ruins. There is in truth, a worse kind than negro slavery—when a man becomes a slave to his own unhallowed, vindictive passions.
Much injustice has been done the southern people. Those who have travelled and dwelt among them, bear testimony to their high-mindedness, kindness and hospitality. They scorn to do an act of meanness; or to enter upon the broad field of scandal. And although their strong sensibility may sometimes lead them into error, yet in all the virtues which ennoble man, they might not suffer in a comparison with the North. If we choose to bring railing accusations against them; they may not descend to recriminate but leave us the undisputed occupants of the ground we have chosen. And we may have the sore mortification at last to find, we have uttered anathemas in vain; and brought nothing to any desirable result—that we have toiled hard, and effected nothing, but our own humiliation and disgrace.
But I must leave the subject of negro slavery.—Perhaps I have dwelt too long upon it already to comport with the design of this book. It is a great and an important subject; and to do it justice would require a volume. It is my solemn conviction however, that for the northern people to effect any thing, towards the freedom of the African race, much prudence must be exercised, and conciliatorymeasures adopted; so as to enlist the undivided energies of the South in the great work of emancipation.
CHAPTER XXVII.
The river Mississippi, which imparts a name and character to the great valley of the West, deserves something more than a mere passing notice.—When the fertility and extent of the region through which it passes, are taken into consideration, together with the magnitude of itself and its numerous branches, it way well be pronounced the noblest river on the face of the globe.
Contrary to the general analogy of other large rivers, it directs its course from north to south. It rises in about the forty-eighth degree of north latitude, in a region having the aspect of a vast marshy valley. Its commencement is in many streams, issuing principally from wild rice lakes, and proceeds but a short distance before it becomes a large river. Sometimes, it moves silently and imperceptibly along, over a wide and muddy channel—at others, it glides briskly onward, over a sandy bottom, its waters almost as transparent as air—and again it becomes compressed to a narrow channel between high andhoary limestone cliffs, and it foams and roars, as it violently lashes the projecting rocks, and struggles through.
The falls of St. Anthony, following the meanders of the stream, are three hundred miles from its source. At this place, the river is about half a mile wide, and falls in a perpendicular and unbroken sheet, between seventeen and eighteen feet.—Above the mouth of the Missouri, it receives many large tributaries, the most considerable of which are the Ouisconsin and Illinois from the east, and the Des Moines, from the west.
A little below thirty nine degrees, comes in the mighty Missouri from the west, which is a longer stream, and carries more water than the Mississippi itself. This is the largest tributary stream in the world; and from the facts, that it has a longer course, carries more water than the Mississippi, and gives its own peculiar character to the stream below their junction, many have supposed it ought to have given its name to the united stream and to the valley. In opposition to this claim, it may be stated, that the valley of the Missouri, in the grand scale of conformation, appears to be secondary to that of the Mississippi—it has not the general direction of that river, but joins it nearly at right angles—the Mississippi valley is wider than that of the Missouri, and the river is broader, and the direction of the valley and river is the same above and below the junction. From these considerations, it appears tome, that the Mississippi rightfully gives its name to the united stream, and to the great valley, from its source to the sea.
The Missouri rises in the Rocky Mountains, nearly in the same parallel with the Mississippi. It is formed by three branches, which unite near the base of the principal ranges of mountains, which severally bear the names of Jefferson, Gallatin and Madison. The head waters of some of these, are so near to those of the Columbia on the other side of the mountains, that a person may drink of the waters of each, in travelling not more than a mile. After the junction of these three streams, the river continues on a foaming mountain torrent. It then spreads into a broader stream, and comparatively of a gentler current, and is full of islands.
The river, then, passes through what are called "The Gates of the Rocky Mountains." The river appears to have torn for itself a passage through the mountain. For the distance of six miles, perpendicular cliffs of dark colored rock, rise twelve hundred feet above the stream which washes their base! The chasm is not more than three hundred feet wide, and the deep, foaming waters rush through, with the speed of a race-horse. In no situation in life, does man so keenly feel his own imbecility and nothingness, as when viewing such terrible results of a war between the elements of nature. This is the most imposing and grand spectacle of the kind, to be found on the globe; and in the deep solitude ofthe wilderness, its aspect is peculiarly awful and terrific. The mountain scenery on the Hudson near West Point; and the passage of the Potomac through the Blue Ridge, sink into utter insignificance, when compared to the rush of the Missouri, through "The Gates of the Rocky Mountains."—The mountains here, have an aspect of inexpressible loneliness and grandeur. Their summits are covered with a stinted growth of pines and cedars, among which, are seen mountain sheep, bounding along at heights apparently inaccessible.
For the distance of seventeen miles, the stream then becomes almost a continued cataract. The whole perpendicular descent in this distance, is three hundred and sixty-two feet. The first fall is ninety-eight feet—the second, nineteen—the third, forty-seven—and the fourth, twenty-six. The river continues rapid, a number of miles below; it then assumes its distinctive character—sweeps briskly along in regular curves, by limestone bluffs, boundless prairies and dense forests, to its junction with the Mississippi. It has a current of four miles an hour; but is navigable for steamboats the distance of twenty-five hundred miles.
The tributaries of Missouri are many important and large rivers; but our space will not permit a particular description of them. The most considerable of them, are the Yellow Stone, La Platte and the Osage. The Yellow Stone rises in the same range of mountains with the main river, to whichit has many points of resemblance. It enters the Missouri from the south, eighteen hundred miles above its mouth, and is eight hundred and fifty yards wide. It is a broad deep river, sixteen hundred miles in length, boatable, one thousand; and at the junction, appears to be the larger stream. Its shores are heavily timbered, its bottoms are wide, and of the richest soil. Its entrance has been selected by the government, as a suitable spot for a military post, and an extensive settlement.
The La Platte also rises in the Rocky mountains, enters from the south, and, measured by its meanders, has a course of two thousand miles. It is nearly a mile wide at its mouth; but, as its name imports, is a shallow stream, and not navigable, except at the high floods.
The Osage enters from the south and is a large and important stream of the Missouri. It is boatable for six hundred miles, and its head waters interlock with those of the Arkansas.
The Gasconade enters from the south also, is not a large river, but is boatable for sixty miles, and is important for having on its banks extensive pine forests, from which St. Louis and St. Charles are supplied with lumber.
The Missouri is a longer river than the Mississippi, measured from its highest source to the Gulf of Mexico; and although it carries less than half the breadth of that stream, it brings down a larger quantity of water. It is at all times turbid; andits prodigious length of course, impetuous current, the singular and wild character of the country through which it runs, impart to it a natural grandeur, truly sublime.
In latitude thirty-six and a half degrees, the Mississippi receives from the east, the celebrated and beautiful Ohio. This is, by far, the largest eastern tributary of the Mississippi; and at the junction, and a hundred miles above, it is as wide as the parent stream. If the Mississippi rolls along its sweeping and angry waters, in more majesty—the Ohio far exceeds it in beauty, and in its calm, unbroken course. No river in the world moves along the same distance, in such an uniform, smooth and peaceful current. The river is formed by the junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela at Pittsburgh. The Ohio, at this place, is about six hundred yards wide, and it immediately assumes a broad and beautiful aspect which continues in its whole course, to the Mississippi. Beautiful and romantic streams come in, at nearly equal distances—its bottoms are of an extraordinary depth and fertility—and the configuration on its banks, has all that softness, grandeur and variety, still changing and recurring in such endless combinations, as to render a voyage down it, at all times pleasant and delightful. From Pittsburgh to the Mississippi, the distance is eleven hundred and fifty miles; and between these points, are more than a hundred islands; some of which, are of exquisite beauty, andafford most pleasant situations for cottages and farms.
The valley of the Ohio is deep, varying from two to ten miles; and is bounded in the whole distance by bluffs, sometimes towering sublimely from the river bank; at others, receding two or three miles from them. Beyond these, are a singular line of hills, more or less precipitous, which are familiarly called the "Ohio hills." The bottoms of the Ohio are heavily timbered, and there are no where on its banks the slightest indications of prairie.
It would be difficult to decide at what season of the year, the Ohio has the most interesting and beautiful appearance—in the spring, when its high floods sweep along with irresistible power, and the red-bud and other early blossoms enliven its banks—or in autumn, when it passes quietly along, showing its broad and clean sand bars, and its pebbly bottom, through waters transparent as air—and when the withering leaves of the forest are painted in golden and scarlet colors along its shores. It is at all times, an interesting river, and probably, no other stream in the world can vie with it, both in utility and beauty.
Below the Ohio, the most important tributaries of the Mississippi, are White river, Arkansas and Red Rivers—all entering the stream from the west. White river rises in the Black mountains, which separate its waters from those of the Arkansas; andafter traversing a distance of twelve hundred miles, enters the Mississippi by a mouth, nearly four hundred yards wide. The Arkansas next to the Missouri, the largest tributary from the west, is twenty-five hundred miles in length, and is five hundred yards wide at its mouth. Its waters are at all times turbid, and when the river is full, are of a dark flame color.
Eighty miles below Natchez, comes in Red River; and although it is not generally so wide as the Arkansas, yet it has as long a course, and probably, carries as much water. Its waters are always turbid, and of a deeper red than those of the Arkansas. After receiving Red River, the Mississippi carries its greatest volume of water. This, however, continues but for a short distance. Three or four miles below the mouth of Red River, and on the same side, is the first outlet of the Mississippi. This is called Atchafalaya; and probably it carries off as much water as the Red River brings in.—But one small river enters the Mississippi below its first outlet. This is on the east side, and is called the Bayou Sarah. The only eastern outlet is a short distance below Baton Rouge. This is called Ibberville, and it passes off the waters of the Mississippi into lake Maurepas. On the west side are two more considerable outlets, called Bayou Plaquemine, and Bayou La Fourche. The Mississippi, then, passes on by New-Orleans, between unbroken banks, and discharges the remainder of itswaters, through four mouths, into the Gulf of Mexico.
The Mississippi is navigable for steamboats to the falls of St. Anthony—a distance of twenty-two hundred miles. These falls, although they have not the slightest claim to be compared with the celebrated Niagara, in sublimity and grandeur; yet they are interesting and impressive in the solitude and loneliness of the wilderness. As the traveller gazes at the romantic scenery around him, and listens to the solemn roar of the falls, as it echoes along the shores of the river, and dies away in the distant forest; a thrilling story is told him of the love and tragical end of a young Dacota Indian woman, whose husband had deserted her, and taken another squaw for his wife. Being a woman of keen sensibility and unconquerable attachment, in a moment of anguish and despair, she took her little children with her in a canoe, and chanted her song of love and broken vows, until they were swept over the falls, and engulfed in the waters below.—The Indians are too fond of romance, not to make the most of such an affecting incident as this.—They believe her spirit still hovers round the spot, and that her fair form is seen on bright sunny mornings, pressing her babes to her bosom, and that her voice is heard, mourning the inconstancy of her husband, amid the roaring of the waters!
Below these falls, the river swells to half a mile in width and becomes a placid, gentle and clearstream, with clean sand bars, and wide and fertile bottoms. There is a rapid of nine miles, commencing just below the entrance of the river Des Moines. This impedes the progress of large steamboats, during low stages of the water. Below this rapid, the Mississippi obtains its full width, being a mile from bank to bank; and it carries this width to the mouth of the Missouri.
The Mississippi, above the junction, is a more beautiful stream even than the Ohio, somewhat more gentle in its current and a third wider. At every little distance, the traveller finds a beautiful island; and sometimes two or three, parallel to each other. Altogether, in its alternate bluffs and prairies—the calmness and transparency of its waters—the vigor and grandeur of the vegetation on its banks—it has an aspect of amenity and magnificence, which does not belong in the same extent to any other stream.
The Missouri enters by a mouth not more than half a mile wide; and the medial width of the united stream to the entrance of the Ohio, is about three quarters of a mile, from thence to the sea the medial width is a mile. This mighty tributary, rather diminishes than adds to its width; but it perceptibly increases its depth; and what is to be regretted, wholly changes its character. The Mississippi is the gentle, clear and beautiful stream no more. It borders more on the terrible and sublime, than the serene and beautiful, from the junction toits mouth. The Mississippi flows gently onward, at the rate of not more than two miles an hour—the turbid Missouri pours down upon it its angry flood, at the rate of four miles an hour, and adds its own speed and peculiar character to the united stream. The Mississippi then becomes a turbid and furious mass of sweeping waters; having a boiling current, sliding banks and jagged shores.
A person, who merely takes a cursory view of the river, hardly forms an adequate idea of the amount of water it carries. Were he to descend from the falls of St. Anthony, and behold the Mississippi swallowing up the mighty Missouri, the broad Ohio, the St. Francis, White, Arkansas, and Red River, together with a hundred other large rivers of great length of course and depth of waters, without apparently increasing its size, he begins to estimate rightly the increased depth, and vast volume of water, that must roll on, in its deep channel to the sea.
In the spring floods, the usual rise of the river above the mouth of the Missouri, is fifteen feet; from that point to the mouth of the Ohio, it is twenty-five feet; below the Ohio, it is fifty feet; and, sometimes, even sixty. In the region of Natchez, the flood begins to subside. At Baton Rouge, it seldom exceeds thirty feet; and at New-Orleans it is only twelve. This declination of the flood, towards the mouth of the river, is caused by the many outlets which take off much of its surplus water, and conduct it in separate channels to thesea. Were it not for this free egress of the Mississippi floods, the whole country below Baton Rouge, would become too much inundated to be habitable.
Respecting the face of the country through which the river passes, it may be remarked, that, from its source to the falls of St. Anthony, it moves on through wild rice lakes, limestone bluffs and craggy hills; and occasionally, through deep pine forests and beautiful prairies. For more than a hundred miles above the mouth of the Missouri, it would be difficult to convey a just idea of the beauty of the prairies which skirt the stream. They strike the eye as a perfect level; covered, in summer, with a luxuriant growth of tall grass, interwoven with a great variety of beautiful flowers; without a tree or shrub in their whole extent. When this deep prairie comes in to the river, on one side, a heavy timbered bottom bounds it on the other.—From the smallest elevation, the sweep of the bluffs, generally corresponding to the curves of the river, are seen in the distance, mixing with the blue arch of the sky.
The medial width of the river bottoms, above the mouth of the Missouri, is six miles; thence, to the entrance of the Ohio, it is about eight miles; and from this point to New-Orleans, the Mississippi swamp varies from thirty to fifty miles. The last stone bluffs, seen in descending the river, are thirty miles above the mouth of the Ohio.
Below the Ohio, the high banks are generally composed of a reddish clay. The river almost invariably, keeps the nearest to the eastern shore, leaving much the largest portion of its swamp on its west side; but, sometimes, on the east, the river is about twenty miles from the high bank on that side. It continually moves in a circle; alternately sweeping to the right, and then to the left. These sections of circles, measured from point to point, vary from six to twelve miles; but it sometimes makes almost a complete circle. In one instance, it sweeps round the distance of thirty miles, and comes within a mile of completing the circle, and meeting its own channel again. Although the stream hurries on with the speed of a giant, yet it does not seem to be really in earnest to "go ahead." It appears to be more disposed to gambol about, and display its power in its own ample bottom, than to pass directly on, to its destined port. Like an overgrown and froward child, its sportiveness is dangerous and destructive. It makes terrible havoc with every thing with which it comes in contact. It tears up large quantities of earth in one place, and deposites it in another. It undermines its own bank, and lets acres of stately forest trees slide into its deep channel—it wears away its deep bends, so as to make its course still more and more circuitous—and again, as if it were tired of its own sportiveness in harrassing the forest, it cuts through the small segment of a circle remaining, leaves a longbend of still water, and its jaded shores at rest. The river, in its serpentine course, hits the high bank at twelve different places, on the eastern shore. These are, at the Iron banks, Chalk banks, the three Chickasaw bluffs, Memphis, Walnut hills, Grand and Petit gulf, Natchez, Loftus heights, and Baton Rouge. At only one place, it comes in contact with the high bluff on the western side; and this is at the St. Francis hills.
Although the river is a mile in width, yet it is so serpentine in its course, that a person travelling upon it, can see but a few miles ahead. The strongest current is next the concave shore; and here also is the deepest water. A third part of the river measured in a direct line across it, would average eighty feet in depth, from thence it grows more and more shoal to the other shore.
In the spring flood, the Mississippi overflows the whole bottom, so that then, it becomes a stream fifty miles in width. It shows a breadth of a mile only, and the remainder is concealed from the eye, by the dense forest which broods over it. The mud and sand, brought down by the flood, deposites itself the most freely, near the river; so that the highest part of the bottom will be next the stream. In the time of the flood, the water barely covers the immediate shore of the river; from thence the water becomes deeper and deeper towards the bluff which bounds the bottom. The depth of the flood, then, may be thus stated—the channel, onehundred and thirty feet—its immediate bank barely covered with water, and next to the bluffs, which may be twenty miles from the channel, from twelve to twenty feet in depth. When the flood in a measure subsides, the sad havoc its waters have made begins to appear. Huge piles of flood wood, wrecks of flat boats, and occasionally, of animals, are thrown together in one promiscuous mass. The stream is filled with snags and sawyers. And the destruction of its immediate banks is still going on. The deep and solemn sound of land slips are often heard. Acres of the stately forest are precipitated into the river, new channels are made, many islands are formed; and the steamboat pilot, who had become a complete master of the intricate mazes of the channel, finds, that he must learn his lesson over again.
All of the hundred rivers that form the Mississippi, at the time of high water, are more or less turbid; but at low water some of them are clear.—The Upper Mississippi is quite transparent, but its waters are slightly of a blackish color. The Missouri is at all times turbid. It is of a whitish color, resembling water mixed with fresh ashes; and it gives its own color to the stream below its mouth. The Ohio is clear, but its waters have the appearance of being slightly tinged with green. The Arkansas and Red River are at all times as turbid as the Missouri, but their waters are of a bright redish color. After the Mississippi has receivedthese two rivers, it loses something of its whiteness, and becomes slightly tinged with red.
The Mississippi, in show of surface, will hardly compare with the St. Lawrence; but, undoubtedly, it carries the greatest mass of water, according to its width, of any river on the face of the globe.—From the large quantity of earth it holds in suspension, and continually deposites along its banks, it will always be confined within a narrow and deep channel. Were it a clear stream, it would soon scoop out for itself a wide channel, from bluff to bluff. In common with most of its great tributaries, it widens as it ascends; being wider above the mouth of the Missouri, with a tenth part of its water, than it is in the region of New-Orleans. In the same manner, Arkansas and Red River are wider, a thousand miles up their streams, than they are at their mouths.
No thinking mind can view with indifference, the mighty Mississippi, as it sweeps round its bends from point to point, and rolls on its resistless wave, through dark forests, in lonely grandeur to the sea. The hundred shores laved by its waters—the long course of its tributaries; some of which are already the abodes of cultivation, and others pursuing an immense course without a solitary dwelling of civilized man—the numerous tribes of savages that now roam on their borders—the affecting and imperishable traces of generations that are gone, leaving no other memorials of their existence, but theirstately mounds, which rise at frequent intervals along the valley—the dim, but glorious anticipations of the future—these are subjects of deep thought and contemplation, inseparably connected with a view of this wonderful river.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
We were three days sailing down the river. Just at night the pilot came aboard, took us over the bar at the southwest pass, and we put out to sea, with a strong fair wind from the northwest. The muddy waters of the Mississippi are seen far out to sea, even after you lose sight of the land. There was another passenger besides myself; and the violent rolling of the vessel soon made us dreadfully seasick. This, with me, lasted but three days; but the other passenger was sick during the whole voyage, and suffered incalculable pain and distress.
There are many things disagreeable to a landsman in a voyage at sea. And in the first place, the rolling of the vessel. This is always disagreeable, but often it is so vehement that you cannot stand, walk or sit without much caution and trouble. While food is eaten, you must hold on to the plate with one hand, and wield the knife with the other, andthis is often done at the imminent hazard of "marring the corners" of the mouth. Sometimes, in spite of all exertion, a sudden lurch will throw you off the balance, and you get a bowl of hot coffee in your lap. And then, at night, you are tossed to and fro in the berth, so that you cannot soundly sleep, and arise in the morning more fatigued than when you laid down.
And this motion of the vessel produces seasickness—an affliction exceedingly grievous to be borne. I had been seasick ten or a dozen times in my life, and this was the third time on my present tour; and I tried all the precautionary means I had ever heard of, but without any beneficial effect. Could any effectual remedy be discovered, it would save a vast amount of human distress.
The shoreless ocean, seen day after day, affords but a dull and barren prospect to a landsman. The only variety seems to be, when a storm arises; and then it puts on such a terrific form, that the sublimity of the scene cannot be fully enjoyed. We had a severe blow off the coast of Florida; but the shivering of sails, and the mountains of foam dashing over our frail bark, caused fear to predominate over every other sensation.
The complete and rapid change of the scene at sea, is sometimes very striking. We would be quietly sailing along with a gentle breeze, just enough to fill the sails, and keep the vessel in motion on her course; when all at once a violent squall arises,suddenly strikes the ship, whizzes through the rigging, fills the sails to bursting, and drives her rapidly on, through billows of foam. The captain stands upon the quarter-deck, gives his orders through the speaking trumpet—the sailors run aloft, cling to the yards and take in sail. The contrast is indeed great. One moment, all is calm and quiet; the next, all is uproar and confusion; and could one feel entirely at ease, it would be a great source of amusement, during a long voyage.
But a sailor's life is one of care, hardship, watchfulness and anxiety. Our captain would walk the deck for hours, anxiously watching the whole circle of the horizon—the appearance of the clouds and the direction of the wind. Of a sudden, he would stop short, call all hands, order the light sails taken in, and close-reefed those that remained; when to my unpractised eye, there was no cause of alarm, or appearance of a change of weather. But the result would invariably show the correctness of his opinion. In no one instance, did he prematurely take in sail, nor did the squall ever come and "catch him napping."
The third day out, from the mouth of the river, we saw the highlands of Cuba. On the fifth, the Sand Key lighthouse, on the Florida shore. We saw no other land on the voyage, except a small island on the Little Bahama Banks, until we came in full view of the village of Chatham, fifty miles south of Boston. The wind became fair, the weather thickand rainy. The next day, twenty miles out, the pilot came aboard, and we run safely into Boston harbor. We had been just twenty-five days from New-Orleans—a distance of twenty-five hundred miles. We had experienced all the varieties of a sea voyage—light winds, calms, strong breezes and storms—and now, with no small degree of pleasure, I again set my foot onterra firma.
The following day, I took the stage and arrived home at Exeter; having been absent about five months, and having travelled by land and water the distance of eight thousand miles. I passed over the whole route without arms, and at no time did I feel the need of any. I was uniformly well treated; and often received kind attentions, and formed many acquaintances whom I left with regret, and shall remember with gratitude.
The weather had generally been mild and pleasant. The greatest indication of cold weather I found on the whole trip, was a slight frost. On returning at once to the region of severe cold weather, I found it exceedingly oppressive. Our northern winters are indeed long, severe and crabbed; and were the people as crabbed as the climate, life would become altogether intolerable. But the southern and western climate is far more bland and mild, and much more grateful to the feelings, than ours; and this, together with the facility of obtaining all the necessaries and conveniences of life, induces me to believe that a much greater amount of comfort and happiness may there be enjoyed.
CHAPTER XXIX.
And now, from this spot, I may be allowed to take a hasty, retrospective glance at the greatWestern Country. It stretches from the Gulf of Mexico to the northern limits of the United States; and from the Alleghany, to the Rocky mountains—a distance of three thousand miles; showing a broad surface of earth, equal in extent to the Atlantic ocean itself. Between these bold and primitive barriers, a country is exhibited, every where bearing the marks of a secondary formation. The valleys, bluffs and hills—the regular lamina of stone, strata of marine shells,—and, indeed, all the physical aspects of the country, wear the appearance of once having been the bed of a vast lake, or an inland sea.
From this circumstance of its recent formation, and the large quantities of decomposed lime stone mixed with the soil, result another attribute of this valley—its character of uncommon fertility. It is not indeed every where alike fertile. There are here, as else where, infinite varieties of soil, from the richest alluvions, to the most sterile flint knobs—from the impervious cane brakes, to the sandy pine hills. There are, too, towards the Rocky mountains, large tracts that have a surface of sterile sands, or covered only with a scanty vegetation of weeds and coarse grass. But of the country in general, the most cursory observer must have remarked, that, compared with lands in other regions apparently of the same character, these show marks of singular fertility. The most ordinary oak lands, will bring successive crops of Indian corn and wheat, without manuring, and with but little care of cultivation. The pine lands, which appear so sterile to the eye, have in many places, produced good crops for years, without the aid of manure.
There is another remarkable trait in the soil of this valley—its power to support vegetation under the severest drought. It is a fact so notorious that it has become proverbial, that if there be moisture enough to make the corn germinate and come up, there will be a good crop, if no rain fall until harvest. The eastern emigrant witnesses with astonishment, the steady advance of his crop to vigorous maturity, under a pressure of drought, and a cloudless ardor of sun, that must have parched up the fields, and destroyed vegetation at the East.
The Alleghany mountains, which form the eastern boundary of this great valley, are composed of many ridges, which run parallel to each other with remarkable regularity. The middle ridge is generally the most elevated, and separates the waters of the Atlantic, from those that flow into the Mississippi. Soon after passing the summit of the principal mountains, the waters of the Ohio begin to be heard, as they dash along over a precipitous and rocky channel, seeking a spot to escape from the craggy hills, to the plains below.
After descending the last mountain ridge towards the valley, the country is still a succession of high hills, generally rounded smoothly down their sides, having more or less table land on their summits.—Those portions of Pennsylvania and Virginia, which belong to the Mississippi Valley; the eastern parts of Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee, are generally hilly, and sometimes even mountainous. In Alabama, the hills begin to subside. The features of the country too, begin, manifestly to change. The landscape wears a different aspect. Instead of the oaks, whitewood and sycamore, we begin to hear the breeze among the tops of long leaved pines.—A long succession of pine hills and fertile valleys succeed each other; the timber becoming less and less, until we meet the extensive prairies, or savannas of Florida.
Approaching the lakes, the country becomes quite level. At the northern sections of Ohio, Indiana and Illinois, near the borders of the lakes, the surface, in some places, becomes so marshy and low, as to be covered, in winter and spring, with water from three or four inches to a foot in depth. The eastern part of Ohio is hilly, but the western portion sensibly becomes more and more level. The Ohio river originally rolled on in its whole course, throughan unbroken forest; but as we approach the eastern boundary of Indiana, we begin to discover the first indications of prairie. In the western part of the State of Ohio, small and detached prairies are only found. In Indiana, the proportion of prairie is far greater, and in Illinois it far exceeds the timbered land. North of the State of Illinois, pine hills, ponds, marshes, woodland and prairie, alternate to the head waters of the Mississippi.
The surface of the country west of the Mississippi, is generally much more level than the valley east of it. There are bluffs to be sure, often high and precipitous, near the courses of the large rivers; and some portion of the country, near the Mississippi, is covered with flint knobs—singular hills of a conical shape, which, with a base of not more than a third of a mile in diameter, sometimes rise to the height of four or five hundred feet; and are covered with coarse gravel and flint stones. There are also, as in the country between the St. Francis and White rivers, high hills, which might well be called mountains. A spur of the Alleghany mountains, seems to come in to the Mississippi at the Chickasaw bluffs, and to be continued to the west of the river, in the St. Francis hills. But between the Mississippi and the Rocky mountains, a distance of twenty-five hundred miles, the general surface of the country is one vast plain, probably the largest on the face of the globe. Except the bluffs of the rivers, and flint knobs, the whole surface is entirelyfree from stones. On the lower courses of the Missouri, St. Francis, White, Arkansas and Red rivers, we find extensive bottoms of inexhaustible fertility covered with a dense forest; and occasionally a rich prairie, teeming with vegetation. But as we ascend these rivers, the timber becomes less and less, until, at last, we find the prairies coming in to the river banks. As the traveller recedes from the narrow and fertile belt on the streams, he finds the prairies becoming more and more dry and sterile—destitute of wood and water, and, sometimes, of all vegetation. He finds himself on a boundless waste of prairies; stretching out before him, far beyond the reach of vision; and here, he may wander for days, without finding either wood or water, and whichever way he may turn his eyes, he beholds an ocean of grass bounding the horizon. In advancing westward, he, at length, catches a glimpse of the Rocky mountains, pencilled like clouds on the blue arch of the sky. These mountains rise in lofty grandeur, twelve thousand feet above the grassy plains at their base; and some of the peaks, are supposed to be eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. They appear at a distance, to present an unbroken front, and to form an insuperable barrier between the Mississippi valley, and the shores of the Pacific ocean. On a nearer inspection, they are found to be, like the Alleghany mountains composed of a number of parallel ridges; and following up the streams, as they escape from the mountains,tolerable paths are found to cross them. A late traveller crossed these mountains, by following up the river Platte to its source; and from thence, down the stream that falls into Lake Bueneventura, on the western side. He states that the ascent was no where any greater than on the National road, over the Cumberland mountains. He even asserts, that the ascent was not more than three degrees; and that nature has provided a practical and good road, quite down to the plains of the Columbia.
These ranges of mountains cover a wide extent of country; and here, the principal rivers that fall into the Mississippi, have their sources. Some of these rivers wind three or four hundred miles among the mountains, before they find a passage to the plains below. The ranges at the sources of the Arkansas, and extending southward towards the Gulf of Mexico, bear the name of the Masserne mountains. A single peak of this ridge, seen at immense distances over the adjacent plains, rising into the blue atmosphere above the region of clouds, is called mount Pike. Near this mountain, the Colorado of the Pacific, the Rio del Norte of the Gulf of Mexico, the Yellow Stone of the Missouri, and the Arkansas and Red rivers of the Mississippi, have their sources. Mount Pike must therefore, be the highest point of land of this part of North America.
The Rocky mountains are at present too little known to be accurately and particularly described. They are hundreds of miles beyond the limits ofcultivation, and the usual haunts of civilized man. They will for ages only attract the gaze and astonishment of wandering hunters, and adventurous travellers, who will thread the mazes of their deep gullies, as they pursue their journey to the western sea. Many of the ranges, and peaks are black, ragged and precipitous; and around their bases are strewn huge fragments of rock, detached by earthquakes and the hand of time. From this iron bound and precipitous character, they probably received the appellation of "Rocky mountains."
The general surface of the Mississippi Valley may be classed under three distinct heads—the dense forest, the barrens, or oak openings, and the prairies. In the first division, every traveller must have remarked, as soon as he descends to this valley, a grandeur in the form and size of the trees, a depth of verdure in the foliage, and a magnificent prodigality of growth, that distinguishes this, from every other country. The trees are large and straight, and rise aloft in stately columns, free from branches, to a great height. In the rich bottoms, they are generally wreathed with a drapery of ivy and grape vines; and these vines have sometimes trunks as large as the human body. Frequently, these forests are as free from any undergrowth as an orchard of apple trees. Sometimes the only shrub seen among the tall trees, is the beautiful pawpaw, with its splendid foliage and graceful stems. In the rich alluvions of the southern section, impenetrablecane brakes, tangles of brambles, and a rank growth of weeds, are often found beneath the forest trees; and their lofty branches are hung with large festoons of Spanish moss. These are the safe retreats of the bears, panthers, and other wild beasts of the forest.
Such forest trees only will be noted, as are not found in our northern climate. It may be proper to remark, that the white pine of New-England is only found in the upper section of the Mississippi valley—the pitch pine is found in various places on the high lands, throughout its whole extent; although not on the banks of the streams of water.
The cypress is seen on overflowed and swampy land from the mouth of the Ohio to the gulf of Mexico. It is strikingly singular in its appearance. Under its deep shade, arise a multitude of cone shaped posts, called 'cypress knees.' They are of various sizes and heights. The largest generally seen are about a foot in diameter at the bottom, two or three inches at the top, and six feet in height. The bark is smooth, and grows over the top end the same as at the sides. The ground, in a cypress swamp, looks as though tapering posts of all imaginable sizes had been set there at random; and are sometimes so thick that it is difficult to ride among them. It has been supposed that these knees are but the commencement of large trees, and there is some reason for this belief; for the tree itself has a buttress that looks exactly like an enlarged cypress knee. A full sized cypress is ten feet in diameterat the ground, but it tapers so rapidly that in ascending eight feet, it is not more than about two feet in diameter; from thence, it rises in a straight smooth column, eighty feet, without any apparent diminution of its size; it then branches off at once in all directions, and forms a level surface of foliage at the top. A forest of cypress looks like a scaffolding of deep green verdure suspended in the air.—The timber is clear of knots, easily wrought, durable, and is the most valuable timber tree in all the southern country.
The live oak is only found near the sea coast. It does not grow tall, but runs out into long lateral branches, looking like an immense spread umbrella. The leaf is small and evergreen. It bears an abundance of acorns, which are small, long and a good deal tapering at each end. Its timber is hard to cut, and will immediately sink in water.
The peccan is of beautiful form and appearance, and makes excellent timber for building and rails. It bears a round nut about an inch and a half long and half an inch in diameter. It excels all other nuts in the delicacy of its flavor.
The black locust is an excellent timber tree, and is much used in the building of steamboats. Its blossoms yield an exquisite perfume. The white locust is similar to that of the north.
The black walnut is a splendid tree and grows to a great size. It is much used in finishing houses and in cabinet furniture. It produces a nut verysimilar to the northern butternut; but the meat is not very palatable. The white walnut is also plenty, as are the various kinds of hickory.
The sycamore is the largest tree of the western forest. One of these trees near Marietta measures fifteen feet in diameter. Judge Tucker of Missouri fitted up a hollow section of a sycamore for an office.
The yellow poplar is a splendid tree and next in size to the sycamore. Its timber is very useful for building and rails. Its blossoms are gaudy bell-shaped cups, and the leaves are of beautiful forms. The cotton-wood is universally found in all the southern country below the mouth of the Ohio. It is a tree of the poplar class, and somewhat resembles the whitewood of the more northern regions. It is a large stately tree and sometimes measures twelve feet in diameter. One tree has been known to make more than a thousand rails. It derives its name from the circumstance, that when its blossoms fall, it scatters on the ground something much resembling, in feeling and appearance, short ginned cotton.
The catalpa is found in the region of the cotton-wood. It is remarkable for the great size of its deep green leaves, and its rounded tuft of beautiful blossoms of unequalled fragrance. Its seed is contained in a pod about two feet in length, much resembling a bean pod. As an ornamental tree it is unrivalled. In gracefulness of form, grandeur ofits foliage, and rich, ambrosial fragrance of its blossom, it is incomparably superior to all the trees of the western world.
The magnolia has been much overrated, both as to the size of the tree and blossom also. It grows up tall and slim; the largest, about two feet in diameter; smooth whitish bark; and slightly resembling the northern beech. Its leaves are of a deep green, small and evergreen. Its blossom is of a pure white, much resembling, although twice the size, of a northern pond lilly. The fragrance is indeed powerful, but rather disagreeable.
There are half a dozen species of laurels; the most beautiful of which, is the laurel almond. It grows to the size of the pear tree; the leaves resemble those of the peach; its blossoms yield a most delicious perfume; and its foliage continues green all the year. It is found in the valley of the Red River.
There is a striking and beautiful tree found on the head waters of the Washita and in the interior of Arkansas, called bow-wood, from the circumstance that the Indians use it for bows. It bears a large fruit of most inviting appearance, much resembling a very large orange. But although beautiful to the eye, it is bitter to the taste. It has large and beautiful leaves, in form and appearance much like those of the orange, but much larger. The wood is yellow like fustic, and it produces a similar dye. It is hard, heavy and durable, and is supposedto be more incorruptible than live oak, mulberry, cypress, or cedar. Above the raft on Red River, the hulk of a steamboat has been built entirely of its timber.
The China tree is not a native of this country, but is much cultivated in the southern regions of the valley for ornament and shade. It has fine long spiked leaves, eight or ten inches in length, set in pairs on each side of a stem two feet long. In the flowering season, the tree is completely covered with blossoms. It bears a small reddish berry, which continues on the tree a long time after the leaves have fallen, and gives it, even then, an interesting appearance. It is a tree of more rapid growth than any known in this country.
The pawpaw is not only the most graceful and pleasing in appearance of all the wild fruit-bearing shrubs, but throws into the shade those cultivated by the hand of man. The leaves are long, of a rich green color, and much resemble the leaves of the tobacco plant. The stem is straight, white, and of unrivalled beauty. The fruit resembles the cucumber, but smoother and more pointed at the ends.—There are from two to five in a cluster; and when ripe are of a rich beautiful yellow. The fruit contains from two to six seeds, double the size of the tamarind. The pulp resembles egg custard. It has precisely the same feeling in the mouth, and unites the taste of eggs, cream, sugar, and spice. It is a natural custard; but too rich and highly seasoned to be much relished by most people. So many whimsical and unexpected tastes are compounded in the fruit, that a person of the most sober face, when he first tastes of it, unconsciously relaxes into a smile.
The persimon is found in Missouri, and in the region to the south of it. Its leaves resemble those of the wild cherry, and it grows about the size of the pear tree. The fruit is of the size of a common grape, in which are similar small seeds. It ripens about the middle of autumn. The fruit is of a yellowish purple color, and it is too sweet to be agreeable to many people.
In the middle regions, on some of the prairies, large tracts are covered with the crab-apple tree.—Their appearance is like the cultivated apple tree, although the fruit and the tree are much smaller.—It makes good cider and preserves, but is too tart to be eaten in its natural state.
The white and black mulberry are both found in the Mississippi valley, but the black is by far the most common. It has been satisfactorily proved, however, that the silk worm will thrive and produce well, upon the black mulberry.
Cane brake is seen on the banks of the Mississippi soon after you leave the mouth of the Ohio. It generally grows from fifteen to twenty feet in height; but in the rich bottoms near Natchez it sometimes attains the height of thirty feet. It is five years coming to maturity, and then producesan abundant crop of seed, on heads much resembling broom corn. It is an evergreen. The leaves are three or four inches long, but narrow and sharp pointed. It is much used for reeds and fishing rods. They grow so very thick that it is difficult for a man to make head way among them. When they are cut down and become dry, they burn freely.—The negroes have fine sport in burning them. The heat rarifies the air in the hollow between the joints and causes them to burst with a noise like a gun; so that when a large quantity of them are set on fire, the noise is like a continued discharge of musketry.
The "barrens" have a distinct and peculiar configuration. The surface is generally undulating with gentle hills—sometimes of a conical form, but generally, running in parallel ridges. The soil is of a clayey texture, of a reddish or greyish color, and is covered with tall coarse grass. The trees are neither large nor very small; and are scattered over the surface, at the distance of two or three rods from each other. They are chiefly of the different kinds of oaks, and from this circumstance, these barrens are, in many places, called "oak openings." The soil never exceeds second rate, and is often only third rate; but it will produce good crops of corn and wheat for many years, without the aid of manure. There are large tracts of this kind of land in Kentucky, Tennessee and Alabama. They are common in Indiana, Michigan, Illinois, Missouri,Arkansas and Texas; and, indeed, they are seen with more or less frequency over a large portion of the Mississippi valley.
The 'pine barrens' are covered with a beautiful growth of long leaved pines. They run up tall, in a straight shaft, generally about two feet in diameter, and are excellent for timber. The surface is gently undulating; sometimes, approaching a dead level, and is covered with a scanty growth of weeds and grass. The soil is sandy, but sometimes slightly tinged with reddish clay. It is supposed to be weak and unproductive; but some of these 'barrens' have produced two or three good crops of grain, without being enriched by manure. Large districts of this kind of land are found in Alabama, Mississippi and Arkansas; and they are common in Florida, and in some sections of Louisiana and Texas.
The remaining, and by far the most extensive surface of the valley, is that of the prairies. Although they have not much diversity of aspect, yet they may be classed under three general heads—the alluvial, or wet, the bushy, and the dry prairies. The bushy prairies seem to be of an intermediate character between the alluvial prairies and the barrens. They have springs of water, covered with hazel and furzy bushes, small sassafras shrubs and grape vines. Acres of this shrubbery are sometimes found covered with the common hop vine. Prairies of this description are very common in Indiana,Illinois and Missouri; and they alternate among the other prairies, for some distance towards the Rocky mountains.
The wet prairies form the smallest division. They are generally found on the margin of streams; but sometimes, they occur, with all their distinctive features, far from the spot where waters now run. They are generally basins, as it regards the adjacent regions, and possess a deep, black soil of exhaustless fertility. They are the best soils for wheat and Indian corn; but, ordinarily, too tender and loamy for the cultivated grasses. In a native state, they are covered with grass and weeds of astonishing height and luxuriance. They are often higher than a man's head, when mounted on horse back. An exact account of the size and rankness of the weeds, flowering plants, and wild grass on the rich alluvial prairies of Illinois and Missouri, would appear to those who have never seen them, like an idle tale. Still more than the rolling prairies, they strike the eye as a dead level, but they generally have a slight inclination, sufficient to carry off the water.
The dry prairies are generally destitute of springs and bushes, but are covered with weeds, flowering plants and wild grass. The roundings of their undulations are so gentle, that to the eye, taking in a large surface at a single view, they appear as a dead level; but in travelling over them their undulations fully appear. The ravines and gullies occasionally found, fully indicate, that they have a sufficient inclination to communicate a quick motion to the waters, which fall upon them. This is by far the largest class of prairies in the western country. Prairies of this description are frequently found in Illinois; the largest of which, called "grand prairie," is a hundred miles in length, by fifty in breadth. They are often found in Indiana, Missouri and Texas; but they appear displayed on a magnificent scale, between the western border of the State of Missouri, and the Rocky mountains. Here, are the appropriate ranges for the buffalo, wild cattle and horses. Here are the plains, without wood or water, where the traveller may wander for days, and see the sun rise and set in an ocean of grass. Here he may travel, day after day, under a cloudless ardor of the sun, and not find a stream of water to slake his thirst, or a solitary tree for shelter and shade.
The general aspect of the Mississippi valley, in regard to woodland and prairies, may in a summary manner, be thus stated:—The surface, in a state of nature, from the Alleghany mountains to the western border of Ohio, is covered with a dense forest. Here, are the first indications of prairies. Proceeding westward through Indiana, Illinois and Missouri, the prairies become larger and more frequent, until at last, it becomes all prairie to the base of the Rocky mountains. It is a fact, beyond all question, that more than half of the great Mississippi valley is smooth prairie, entirely destitute of timber. Large portions of the valley will support a dense population, and become inhabited; but the larger prairies will remain uncultivated for ages. They are fit haunts only for the adventurous hunter, or the wandering shepherd.
During the season of vegetation, no adequate idea can be conveyed by description, of the number, forms, varieties, scents and hues of the flowering plants on the western prairies. The violet, and the more humble and modest kinds of flowers, which show their blossoms in early spring, not being able to compete with the rank grass and weeds around them, soon become choked and lost to the view; but the taller and more hardy kinds, successfully struggle for display, and rear their heads high enough to be seen. They have tall and arrowy stems, spiked or tassellated heads, and the blossoms are of great size, grandeur and splendor, but not much delicacy of fragrance. As the season advances, distinct successions of dominant hues prevail. In spring, the prevalent color of the prairie flowers, is bluish purple—in midsummer, red, slightly tinged with yellow—in autumn, yellow. At this season of the year, the flowers are very large, generally, of the sunflower form, and they are so profusely scattered over the prairies, as to present to the imagination an immense surface of gilding.
And this country of dense forests and rich prairies, is intersected with large and navigable rivers.These, alive as they are with their steamboats, keel and flat boats, afford great facilities for travelling, and for the transportation of merchandize and produce. The prairies and woodland also, present great facilities for travelling, and the transportation of goods. They are often, in a state of nature, so smooth, so gently undulating, and of such an unbroken surface, that carriages may run over them without interruption or delay.
Such are the general outlines and features of the great Mississippi valley; but a complete description would require volumes. Nature has laid off her work here, upon a magnificent scale, and finished it with a liberal hand. Its natural productions are rich and abundant. Its waters abound with fish—its soil teems with an exuberance of trees, plants and blossoms—rich mines lie emboweled beneath the surface—and wild game are profusely scattered over its prairies, woodland and rivers. To the husbandman, it presents itself in a more attractive aspect, than the granite hills and rocky soil of New-England. It has increased in population and wealth, incomparably greater than any other section of the world; and ere long, it will contain a majority of the population of the United States.
And now, it only remains, most respectfully to take leave of my readers. Those who have traced theTRIP TO THE WEST AND TEXASthrough the foregoing pages, I hope, may have enjoyed all its pleasures, without incurring its attendant hardships and fatigue.
APPENDIX.
Territory of Michigan.
This Territory is bounded by the national boundary line on the east and north, by the Mississippi river on the west, and by the States of Illinois, Indiana and Ohio on the south. These boundaries include a vast extent of territory; but as that portion of it which lies to the north and west of Lake Michigan and the State of Illinois is for the most part a wilderness, having only some small settlements on Green Bay, the Milwake and Mississippi, my remarks will be confined to that part of it commonly called the peninsula, lying between lakes Erie and Michigan.
Population.—This territory is estimated by good judges to contain between thirty-five and forty thousand inhabitants. The rapid and increasing tide of emigration into it, induces the belief that it will soon be admitted as a State into the Union. Its present and increasing importance may be in a great measure attributed to the enterprising, active and energetic talents of its late governor, Lewis Cass, the present Secretary of War. His personal exertions and enlightened policy, not only facilitated its settlement, but developed its vast and various resources. A large portion of its inhabitants are from New-York and the Eastern States, and are as active and industrious as those are in the sections of country from which they came. They make rapid improvements; and in a few years, the country will not be behind the flourishing State of Ohio, in farms and villages.
Face of the Country.—That part immediately bordering on lakes Erie, St. Clair and Huron, and their connecting waters, is generally rather level and heavily timbered, but somewhat deficient in good water. In the interior, it becomes gently undulating, occasionally well timbered, and interspersed with oak openings, plains and prairies. The plains are frequently covered with such a regular, beautiful and thrifty growth of timber, so free from underbrush, as to wear the aspect of a cultivated forest. They are more easily improved than the heavy timbered land, and produce full as well. The openings are often rather deficient in timber, though they are not unfrequently skirted with plains, or contain patches of woodland, from which an ample supply may be obtained, not only for fuel, but for building, fencing and all other fanning purposes, ifused with economy. They usually require but little, and sometimes no labor to prepare them for the plough; three or four yoke of cattle are found to be amply sufficient to break them up the first time, after which they are cultivated with nearly as much ease as old improved lands. They are found to be excellent for wheat, to improve by cultivation, and usually to produce a good crop of corn the first season.
The prairies generally support a heavy growth of grass—are free from timber, and may be divided into two classes. One is called dry, and the other is denominated wet prairies. The former possess a rich soil, are easily cultivated, and generally yield in rich abundance almost every kind of produce which might be expected to flourish in forty-two degrees north latitude, especially those on St. Joseph's river. And the latter often prove serviceable, not only in affording early pasture, but in supplying the emigrant with the means of wintering his cattle; and may with a little labor, frequently be made to yield an abundant supply of excellent hay. The interior of the territory is well watered with rivers, creeks and small lakes; many of which contain an unusual quantity of fish. There are several salt springs, which have not yet been tried nor improved, situated in different parts of the territory, all of which have been reserved by the United States; but it is not certain that any of them will prove very valuable. By boring a number of feet, the water wouldimprove, and might, in some cases at least, not only justify the erection of extensive works for the manufacture of salt, but prove also a source of revenue to the United States, as well as afford to the manufacturer the means of accumulating wealth.
The surveyed part of the territory is laid out by the United States into townships of six miles square, which are divided into thirty-six sections or square miles, containing each six hundred and forty acres. These are subdivided, by imaginary lines, into quarter and half quarter sections; the latter of which contain each eighty acres, is the smallest quantity sold by the United States, and may, as well as the larger tracts, be selected by the purchaser. Though there is a small tract of land which proves rather unhealthy at the mouth of Huron, Saginaw and Rouge rivers, as well as at the mouth of Brownstown and Swan creeks, owing to the sluggishness of the water at the outlet of these streams, yet the climate of the surveyed part of the territory is mild, lying between forty-one degrees thirty-nine minutes, and forty-two degrees thirty-four minutes north latitude. The air is salubrious, and the water generally clear. The soil, which produces in rich abundance wheat rye, barley, oats, peas, beans, Indian corn, and potatoes, as well as all kinds of vegetables usually cultivated in the same latitude, consists of such a variety, that it cannot fail to suit the choice of almost every person in the pursuit of agriculture. Fruit, of course, has not yet been tested in the interior,for the want of time, except peaches, which do exceedingly well; but if I may be permitted to draw an inference, from the quality of the various kinds which grow in great abundance on the French plantations, along the margin of Detroit river, as well as on other parts of the great chain of navigable waters, then I presume I shall be allowed to say, that the soil of Michigan is equal, for the production of fruit, to that of any State in the Union. The pear trees along this river, which were planted in the early settlement by the French, are remarkably large, very tall, and extremely thrifty and beautiful, and bear a most delicious fruit, which generally sells from two to four shillings per bushel. Apples, at Detroit, vary from twelve to fifty cents, and may generally be procured by the bushel, for the latter price, even in winter. Cider, in the fall, is from one and a half to two dollars per barrel, for the juice. Currants, blackberries, black and red raspberries and cherries bring from three to four cents per quart; though the earliest of these, as well as whortle berries and strawberries, command sixpence. Plumbs are scarce, because they have not been generally cultivated, though they are likewise found to do well.
The price of unsold wild land is fixed and uniform, being one dollar and twenty-five cents per acre, the terms ready money, and the title indisputable, as it comes direct from the United States, under the seal of the President. The richest, most fertile,and perhaps more beautiful part of the territory, is generally thought to be adjacent to the St. Joseph's river and its various branches; which, from present appearances, bids fair to become speedily settled; settlements began to form on it a year before it was offered for sale. It only came in market in May, 1834, and such has been the influx of emigration to this part of the territory, that the Legislature in October last, formed twelve new counties, mostly thereon, and organized two of that number. This part of the territory possesses several copious mill streams, particularly Hog-creek, the Dowagiake, Christianna, Pigeon, Crooked and Portage rivers, a few of which have already been improved, by the erection of saw and grist mills. The climate of this part of the territory, though mild, is apparently more subject to wind than the valley of the Ohio river. The prevailing wind is the southwest; and as it crosses a large tract of prairie country in Illinois and Indiana, comes here with much force, and in winter is somewhat piercing. Considerable snow falls; nevertheless it is very favorable to wheat, rye, potatoes and turnips, and though not very adverse, yet not so congenial as the valley of the Ohio river, to southern corn and the more tender grains and esculents. Fruits, of course, have not yet been cultivated here, except a few apples and peaches, by the French which appear to do well.
The prairies in this quarter are of the richest soil, and may be ploughed in two days after the frostleaves the ground in the spring. They usually produce thirty or forty bushels of wheat to the acre; and from thirty to eighty of corn have been raised from the same quantity of ground, in all the prairies that have as yet been occupied: four hundred acres of corn were cultivated on Beardsley's prairie last year, which having been improved the year before averaged fifty bushels to the acre. These prairies not unfrequently produce thirty or forty bushels of corn to the acre, the first season, without being ploughed or hoed after planting.
The surveyed part of the territory is divided into three United States land districts, containing each one land office; one of which is at Detroit, one at Monroe and one at Bronson, in the county of Kalamazoo.
The rivers Grand, St. Joseph, Raisin, Huron, Clinton, Rouge, Kalamazoo and Shiawassee, interlocking in different parts of the territory, not only irrigate the country in a beautiful manner, but offer unparalleled inducements for canaling, and with comparatively but little expense, as there would be no mountains, nor probably rock strata to cut through. It is already in contemplation, by means of the Grand river and Clinton, or the St. Joseph's and Raisin, to open a water communication across the peninsula, by means of a canal, which would terminate at Detroit or Monroe; and probably at no distant period, it will not only be undertaken, but will be accomplished in such a manner as to accommodate both these places in this respect. A company was incorporated, by an act of the Legislature, last fall, under the title of the "Summit Portage Canal and Road Company," with a capital of ten thousand dollars, to be divided into one thousand shares of ten dollars each, for the purpose of cutting a canal west of Lake Michigan, to connect the Fox and Ouisconsin rivers at what is usually termed the Portage of the Ouisconsin, and to construct a turnpike road on said Portage, parallel to said canal; and also to construct another turnpike road from the lower extremity of the rapids of the Kaukauin, on the east side of the Fox river, on the most direct and eligible route to Winnebago lake, and for the erection of piers, wharves, warehouses and other public buildings and improvements, in and about said canal and turnpike, for commercial purposes.—Michigan extends at present west to the Mississippi river; but it is expected the territory will shortly be divided, and a new territory set off west of Lake Michigan; and organized by the name of Ouisconsin or Huron. The territory was originally owned and occupied by emigrants from France; consequently the old inhabitants or first settlers are mostly French.
Wayne County—contains about seven thousand inhabitants, many of whom are French. Its seat of justice is Detroit. Hamtranck, Detroit and Springwells. These towns, which lie in the northeast part of the country, border on Detroit river, and are rather level, and but poorly supplied with water. The northern part of the two latter is somewhat broken by marsh and wet prairie; but near the centre of Springwells is a tract, containing some excellent arable land not yet entered, lying within from six to ten miles of Detroit, where a new settlement has recently been formed, and through which a road has lately been opened, leading from Detroit to Farmington. The towns of Pekin, Nankin and Plymouth are well supplied with water by the river Rouge and its various branches, which afford several eligible mill sites, and which have already been advantageously improved by the erection thereon of saw and grist mills. Pekin is heavily timbered with white and black ash, white and black oak, beech, maple and sugar tree. The land is rolling, and the soil rich and fertile, consisting of sand, loam and some clay. The northern and southern part of the town of Nankin has much the same appearance as Pekin, though the soil is more sandy, and requires less labor to cultivate it; yet it yields quite as well; but the middle is plains and openings, of an inferior quality and soil. Plymouth has likewise a similar appearance to Pekin, though the northern part is more rolling, yet even here the timber is the same, with the addition of black walnut; but the soil is generally of a superior quality.