RESOLVE TO PROCEED FURTHER WEST--NIGHT VOYAGE ON THE
MISSISSIPPI IN A SKIFF--AN ADVENTURE--PROCEED ON FOOT WEST
TO THE MISSOURI MINES--INCIDENTS BY THE WAY--MINERS'
VILLAGE OF SHIBBOLETH--COMPELLED BY A STORM TO PASS THE
NIGHT AT OLD MINES--REACH POTOSI--FAVORABLE RECEPTION BY
THE MINING GENTRY--PASS SEVERAL MONTHS IN EXAMINING THE
MINES--ORGANIZE AN EXPEDITION TO EXPLORE WESTWARD--ITS
COMPOSITION--DISCOURAGEMENTS ON SETTING OUT--PROCEED,
NOTWITHSTANDING--INCIDENTS OF THE JOURNEY TO THE VALLEY OF
LEAVES.
I was kindly received by some persons I had before known, particularly
by a professional gentleman with whom I had descended the Alleghany
river in the preceding month of March, who invited me to remain at his
house. I had now proceeded about seventeen hundred miles from my
starting-point in Western New York; and after passing a few days in
examining the vicinity, and comparing facts, I resolved on the course it
would be proper to pursue, in extending my journey further west and
south-west. I had felt, for many years, an interest in the character and
resources of the mineralogy of this part of what I better knew as Upper
Louisiana, and its reported mines of lead, silver, copper, salt, and
other natural productions. I had a desire to see the country which De
Soto had visited, west of the Mississippi, and I wished to trace its
connection with the true Cordillera of the United States--the Stony or
Rocky mountains. My means for undertaking this were rather slender. I
had already drawn heavily on these in my outward trip. But I felt (I
believe from early reading) an irrepressible desire to explore this
region. I was a good draughtsman, mapper, and geographer, a ready
penman, a rapid sketcher, and a naturalist devoted to mineralogy and
geology, with some readiness as an assayer and experimental chemist; and
I relied on these as both aids and recommendations--as, in short, the
incipient means of success.
When ready to embark on the Mississippi, I was joined by my two former
companions in the ascent from the mouth of the Ohio. It was late in the
afternoon of one of the hottest summer days, when we took our seats
together in a light skiff at St. Louis, and pushed out into the
Mississippi, which was still in flood, but rapidly falling, intending to
reach Cahokia that night. But the atmosphere soon became overcast, and,
when night came on, it was so intensely dark that we could not
discriminate objects at much distance. Floating, in a light pine skiff,
in the centre of such a stream, on a very dark night, our fate seemed
suspended by a thread. The downward pressure of the current was such,
that we needed not to move an oar; and every eye was strained, by
holding it down parallel to the water, to discover contiguous snags, or
floating bodies. It became, at the same time, quite cold. We at length
made a shoal covered with willows, or a low sandy islet, on the left, or
Illinois shore. Here, one of my Youghioghany friends, who had not yet
got over his _penchant_ for grizzly bears, returned from reconnoitering
the bushes, with the cry of this prairie monster with a cub. It was too
dark to scrutinize, and, as we had no arms, we pushed on hurriedly about
a mile further, and laid down, rather than slept, on the shore, without
victuals or fire. At daylight, for which we waited anxiously, we found
ourselves nearly opposite Carondelet, to which we rowed, and where we
obtained a warm breakfast. Before we had finished eating, our French
landlady called for pay. Whether anything on our part had awakened her
suspicions, or the deception of others had rendered the precaution
necessary, I cannot say. Recruited in spirits by this meal, and by the
opening of a fine, clear day, we pursued our way, without further
misadventure, about eighteen miles, and landed at Herculaneum.
The next day, which was the last of July, I set out on foot for the
mines, having directed my trunks to follow me by the first returning
lead-teams. My course led through an open, rolling country, covered with
grass, shrubs, and prairie flowers, and having but few trees. There was
consequently little or no shade, and, the weather being sultry, I
suffered much from heat and thirst. For the space of about twelve miles,
the road ran over an elevated ridge, destitute of streams or springs. I
did not meet an individual, nor see anything of the animal creation
larger than a solitary wild turkey, which, during the hottest part of
the day, came to contest with me for, or rather had previously reached,
some water standing in a wagon-rut. I gained the head of the Joachim
creek before nightfall, and, having taken lodgings, hastened down to a
sheltered part of the channel to bathe, after which I enjoyed a
refreshing night's sleep. The aboriginal name of this stream was
"Zwashau," meaning pin-oak, as I was told by an old hunter whom I met.
The next day I was early on my way; and I soon began to discover, in the
face of the country, evidences of its metalliferous character. Twelve
miles brought me to the valley of Grand or Big river, one of the
principal tributaries of the Maramec. In descending the high grounds, I
observed numerous specimens of the brown oxide of iron; and after
crossing the ferry, the mineral locally called mineral blossom,
(radiated quartz,) of which I had noticed slight traces before,
developed itself in fine specimens. The first mining village I came to,
bore the name of Shibboleth. At this place there was a smelting furnace,
of the kind called a log-furnace. Here I first saw heaps of the ore of
lead commonly found. It is the sulphuret, of a broad glittering grain,
and cubical fracture. It is readily smelted, being piled on logs of
equal length, and adjusted in the before-named furnace, where it is
roasted till the sulphur is driven off; when desulphurated, it melts,
and the metal is received on an inclined plane and conducted into an
orifice, from which it is ladled into moulds. From fifty to sixty per
cent, is obtained in this way. Shibboleth is the property of John Smith
T.; a man whose saturnine temper and disposition have brought him into
collision with many persons, and given him a wide-spread notoriety both
in Missouri and Tennessee.
I lingered along so leisurely, and stopped so often to examine objects
by the way, that my progress was not rapid. I obtained some corn-bread
and milk at a house, and pursued my journey to Old Mines, where a heavy
storm of rain arose. I took shelter at a neighboring house, where I
remained during the night. The next morning I walked into Potosi, and
took lodgings at Mr. William Ficklin's. This gentleman was a native of
Kentucky, where most of his life had been passed in the perils and
adventures attending the early settlement of that State. His
conversation was replete with anecdotes of perilous adventures which he
had experienced; and I was indebted to him for some necessary practical
points of knowledge in forest life, and precautions in travelling in an
Indian country.
The day after my arrival was a local election day, for a representative
from the county in the territorial legislature, to which Mr. Austin the
younger was returned. This brought together the principal mining and
agricultural gentlemen of the region, and was a circumstance of some
advantage to me, in extending my acquaintance, and making known the
objects of my visit. In this, the Austins, father and son, were most
kind and obliging. Indeed, the spirit with which I was received by the
landed proprietors of the country generally, and the frankness and
urbanity of their manners and sentiments, inspired me with high hopes of
success in making a mineralogical survey of the country.
I found the geological structure of the country, embracing the mines, to
be very uniform. It consists of a metalliferous limestone, in horizontal
strata, which have not been lifted up or disturbed from their
horizontality by volcanic forces; but they have been exposed to the laws
of disintegration and elemental action in a very singular manner. By
this action, the surface of the formation has been divided into ridges,
valleys, and hills, producing inequalities of the most striking and
picturesque character.
There are some forty principal mines, in an area of about seventy miles
by thirty or forty in breadth. The chief ore of lead smelted is galena.
The associated minerals of most prominence are sulphate of barytes,
sulphuret of zinc, calcareous spar, and crystallized quartz, chiefly in
radiated crystals. I spent upwards of three months in a survey of the
mines of chief consequence, noting their peculiarities and geological
features. By far the most remarkable feature in the general structure of
the country, consists of the existence of a granitical tract at the
sources of the river St. Francis. This I particularly examined. The
principal elevations consist of red sienite and greenstone, lying in
their usual forms of mountain masses. The geological upheavals which
have brought these masses to their present elevations, appear to have
been of the most ancient character; for the limestones and crystalline
sandstones have been deposited, in perfectly horizontal beds, against
their sides.
Feeling a desire to compare this formation with the structure of the
country west and south of it, extending to the Rocky mountains, and
satisfied at the same time that these primary peaks constituted the
mineral region of De Soto's most northerly explorations, I determined to
extend my explorations south-westwardly. The term "Ozark mountains" is
popularly applied to the broad and elevated highlands which stretch in
this direction, reaching from the Maramec to the Arkansas. Having
obtained the best information accessible from hunters and others who had
gone farthest in that direction, I determined to proceed, as early as I
could complete my arrangements for that purpose, to explore those
elevations.
Colonel W. H. Ashley, who had penetrated into this region, together with
several enterprising hunters and woodsmen, represented it as
metalliferous, and abounding in scenes of varied interest. It had been
the ancient hunting-ground of the Osages, a wild and predatory tribe,
who yet infested its fastnesses; and it was represented as subject to
severe risks from this cause. Two or three of the woodsmen, who were
best acquainted with this tract, expressed a willingness to accompany me
on a tour of exploration. I therefore, in the month of October,
revisited St. Louis and Illinois, for the purpose of making final
arrangements for the tour, and obtained the consent of Mr. Brigham and
Mr. Pettibone, previously mentioned, to accompany me. A day was
appointed for our assembling at Potosi. I then returned to complete my
arrangements. I purchased a stout, low-priced horse, to carry such
supplies as were requisite, made his pack-saddle with my own hands, and
had it properly riveted by a smith. A pair of blankets for sleeping; a
small, short-handled frying-pan; a new axe, a tin coffeepot, three tin
cups, and the same number of tin plates; a couple of hunting-knives; a
supply of lead, shot, ball, powder, and flints; a small smith's hammer,
and nails for setting a horse-shoe; a horse-bell and strap; a pocket
compass; a gun, shot-pouch, and appendages, containing a space for my
diary; a mineral-hammer, constructed under my own directions, so as to
embrace a small mortar on one face, and capable of unscrewing at the
handle, which could be used as a pestle; a supply of stout clothing, a
bearskin and oilcloth, some bacon, tea, sugar, salt, hard bread, &c.,
constituted the chief articles of outfit. The man of whom I purchased
the horse called him by the unpoetic name of "Butcher."
It was the beginning of November before my friends arrived, and on the
sixth of that month we packed the horse, and took our way over the
mineral hills that surround Potosi, making our first encampment in a
little valley, on the margin of a stream called Bates's creek.
It was fine autumn weather; the leaves of the forest were mostly sere,
and the winds scattered them about us with an agreeable movement, as we
wound among the hills. We were evidently following an old Indian trail,
and, finding a rather tenable old wigwam, constructed of poles and bark,
we pitched upon it as our first place of encampment. My kind host from
Kentucky, with whom I had been staying, accompanied us thus far, to see
us safely in the woods, and taught me the art of hobbling a horse, and
tying on his night-bell. The hunters, who had talked rather
vaingloriously of their prowess among wild animals and Osages, one by
one found obstacles to impede their going. Finally, one of my companions
was compelled to return, owing to a continued attack of fever and ague.
I determined, nevertheless, to proceed, thinking that a hunter could be
found to join us before quitting the verge of civilization. Having
unpacked Butcher, prepared him for the night, stowed away the baggage,
and built a fire, I took my gun and sallied out into the forest, while
my companion prepared things for our supper. I found the greatest
abundance of large black and grey squirrels in a neighboring wood, and
returned with a number of the finest of them in season to add to our
evening's meal.
A man's first night in the wilderness is impressive. Our friends had
left us, and returned to Potosi. Gradually all sounds of animated nature
ceased. When darkness closed around us, the civilized world seemed to
have drawn its curtains, and excluded us. We put fresh sticks on the
fire, which threw a rich flash of light on our camp, and finally wrapped
ourselves in our blankets, and, amidst ruminations on the peculiarities
of our position, our hopes, and our dangers, we sank to sleep.
Nov. 7th. The first thing listened for this morning was the tinkle of
our horse's bell. But Butcher was gone. All my precautions had been in
vain. The poor beast appeared to have had a presentiment of the hard
fare that was before him, and, although his fore-feet were tethered, and
he must lift up both together to jump, yet, having a strong recollection
of the corn-fodder and juicy blades left behind him, he had made his way
back to the mines. I immediately went in pursuit of him. He was easily
tracked until he got to a space of rank herbage, where I lost the track,
and hearing, at the same moment, a bell to the left, I pursued the sound
over hill and through dale, till I came out at a farm-yard on Mine
creek, four miles below Potosi, where I found the bell whose sound I had
followed attached to the neck of a stately penned ox. The owner told me
that Butcher had reached the mines, and been sent back to my camp by his
former owner. I had nothing left but to retrace my steps, which,
luckily, were but the shorter line of an acute triangle. I found him at
the camp. It was, however, ten o'clock before our breakfast was
despatched, and the horse repacked ready for starting. We took the labor
of leading the horse, and carrying the compass and guiding, day about,
so as to equalize these duties, and leave no cause for dissatisfaction.
Our trail carried us across the succession of elevated and arid ridges
called the Pinery. Not a habitation of any kind, nor the vestiges of
one, was passed; neither did we observe any animal, or even bird. The
soil was sterile, hard, and flinty, bearing yellow pines, with some
oaks. Our general course was west-south-west. The day was mild and
pleasant for the season. For a computed distance of fourteen miles, we
encountered a succession of ascents and descents, which made us rejoice,
as evening approached, to see a tilled valley before us. It proved to be
the location of a small branch of the Maramec river, called by its
original French name of _Fourche a Courtois_. The sun sank below the
hills as we entered this valley. Some woodcock flew up as we reached the
low ground; but as we had a cabin in view, and the day was far gone, we
moved on toward our principal object. Presently the loud barking of dogs
announced our approach; they seemed, by their clamor, as pertinacious as
if two wolves or panthers were stealing on the tenement, till they were
silenced by the loud commands of their master. It was a small log
building, of the usual construction on the frontiers, and afforded the
usual hospitality, and ready accommodations. They gave us warm cakes of
corn-bread, and fine rich milk; and, spreading our blankets before the
fire, we enjoyed sound slumbers. Butcher, here, had his last meal of
corn, and made no attempt to escape.
Nov. 8th. With the earliest streaks of daylight we adjusted our pack for
the horse, and again set forward on the trail. In the course of two
miles' travel, we forded a stream called Law's Fork, and also the branch
of the Maramec on which we had lodged the previous night. We soon after
descried a hunter's cabin, a small and newly erected hut in the midst of
the forest, occupied by a man named Alexander Roberts. This proved the
last house we encountered, and was estimated to be twenty miles from
Potosi. Some trees had been felled and laid around, partially burned;
but not a spot of ground was in cultivation. Dogs, lean and hungry,
heralded our approach, as in the former instance; and they barked loud
and long. On reaching the cabin, we found that the man was not at home,
having left it, his wife said, with his rifle, at an early hour, in
search of game. She thought he would be back before noon, and that he
would accompany us. We decided to await his return, and in the meanwhile
prepared our frugal breakfast. In a short time, Roberts returned; he was
a chunky, sinister-looking fellow, and reminded me of Ali Baba, in the
"Forty Thieves." He had a short, greasy buckskin frock, and a pointed
old hat. His wife, who peeped out of the door, looked queer, and had at
least one resemblance to Cogia, which seemed to be "starvation." The
hunter had killed nothing, and agreed to accompany us, immediately
beginning his preparations. He at the same time informed us of the fear
entertained of the Osages, and other matters connected with our journey
in the contemplated direction. About ten o'clock he was ready, and,
leading a stout little compact horse from a pen, he clapped a saddle on,
seized his rifle, announced himself as ready, and led off. The trail led
up a long ridge, which appeared to be the dividing ground between the
two principal forks of the Maramec. It consisted of a stiff loam, filled
with geological drift, which, having been burned over for ages by the
Indians, to fit it for hunting in the fall of the year, had little
carbonaceous soil left, and exhibited a hard and arid surface. Our
general course was still west-south-west. After proceeding about four
miles, our path came to the summit of an eminence, from which we
descried the valley of the Ozau, or Ozark fork. This valley consisted
entirely of prairie. Scarcely a tree was visible in it. The path wound
down the declivity, and across the valley. The soil appeared to be
fertile. Occupying one bank of the stream, nearly in the centre of the
valley, we passed a cluster of Indian wigwams, inhabited alone by the
old men, women, and children; the young men being absent, hunting. We
found them to be Lenno-Lenapees, or, in other words, Delawares; being
descendants of the Indians whom William Penn found, in 1682, in the
pleasant forest village of Coacquannok, where Philadelphia now stands.
Strange, but not extraordinary history! They have been shoved back by
civilization, in the course of a hundred and thirty-six years'
mutations, over the Alleghanies--over the Mississippi--into the spurs of
these mountains. Where they will be after the lapse of a similar period,
no one can say. But this _can_ be said--that the hunting of deer will
give out; and if they do not betake themselves to some other means of
subsistence, they will be numbered among the nations that were.
Roberts informed me that four or five miles lower down the valley was a
village of Shawnees, and, higher up, another village of Delawares.
On reaching the uplands on the west side of the valley, we pursued the
trail up its banks about four or five miles, and encamped by daylight
near a clump of bushes at a spring. As I was expert in striking and
kindling a fire, this became a duty to which I devoted myself during the
entire journey, while my companion busied himself in preparations for
our repast. Roberts reconnoitred the vicinity, and came in with a report
that we had reached a game country.
We were now fairly beyond the line of all settlements, even the most
remote, and had entered on that broad highland tract to which, for
geographical distinction, the name of Ozark mountains is applied. This
tract reaches through Missouri and Arkansas, from the Maramec to the
Wachita, and embraces the middle high lands between the plains at the
foot of the Rocky mountains, and the rapids of the Maramec, St. Francis,
Osage, White, Arkansas, and other principal streams; these traverse a
belt of about two hundred miles east and west, by seven hundred miles
north and south. It is a sort of Rheingau, through which the rivers
burst.
Nov. 9th. Early in the morning, Roberts brought in the carcase of a fine
deer; and we made our first meal on wild venison, cut fresh smoking from
the tenderest parts, and roasted on sticks to suit our tastes. This put
every one in the best of spirits, and we packed a supply of the meat for
our evening's repast. Seeing that Roberts was more at home among the
game, and that he had but a sorry knife for the business, I loaned him
a fine new belt and knife, with its sheath, for the day. We now
travelled up the Ozark fork about eighteen miles. The weather was
exhilarating, and the winds were careering with the leaves of the
forest, and casting them in profusion in our track. As we came near the
sources of the river, we entered a wide prairie, perfectly covered for
miles with these leaves, brought from neighboring forests. At every step
the light masses were kicked or brushed away before us. This plain, or
rather level vale, was crowned in the distance by elevations fringed
with tall trees which still held some of their leafy honors, giving a
very picturesque character to the landscape. I booked the scene at
night, in my diary, as CLIOLA, or the Valley of Leaves. We held our way
over the distant eminences, and at length found a spring by which we
encamped, at a rather late hour. It had been a hazy and smoky day, like
the Indian summer in Atlantic latitudes. We were in a region teeming
with the deer and elk, which frequently bounded across our path. The
crack of Roberts's rifle, also, added to the animation of the day's
travel; though we might have known, from his unsteady bandit-eye, that
he meditated something to our damage.