"A tale of the times of old! The deeds of days of other years!"
OSSIAN.
"Thou beautiful river! Thy bosom is calm
And o'er thee soft breezes are shedding their balm;
And Nature beholds her fair features portray'd,
In the glass of thy bosom serenely display'd."
BENGAL ANNUAL.
"Tam saw an unco sight."
BURNS.
It is an idea which has more than once occurred to me, while throwing
together these hasty delineations of the beautiful scenes through
which, for the past few weeks, I have been moving, that, by some, a
disposition might be suspected to tinge every outline indiscriminately
with the "_coleur de rose_." But as well might one talk of an
exaggerated emotion of the sublime on the table-rock of Niagara, or
amid the "snowy scalps" of Alpine scenery, or of a mawkish sensibility
to loveliness amid the purple glories of the "_Campagna di Roma_," as
of either, or of both combined, in the noble "valley beyond the
mountains." Nor is the interest experienced {94} by the traveller for
many of the spots he passes confined to their scenic beauty. The
associations of by-gone times are rife in the mind, and the
traditionary legend of the events these scenes have witnessed yet
lingers among the simple forest-sons. I have mentioned that remarkable
range of cliffs commencing at Alton, and extending, with but little
interruption, along the left shore of the Mississippi to the mouth of
the Illinois. Through a deep, narrow ravine in these bluffs flows a
small stream called the Piasa. The name is of aboriginal derivation,
and, in the idiom of the Illini, denotes "_The bird that devours
men_." Near the mouth of this little stream rises a bold, precipitous
bluff, and upon its smooth face, at an elevation seemingly
unattainable by human art, is graven the figure of an enormous bird
with extended pinions. This bird was by the Indians called the
"_Piasa_;" hence the name of the stream. The tradition of the Piasa is
said to be still extant, among the tribes of the Upper Mississippi,
and is thus related:[86]
"Many thousand moons before the arrival of the pale faces, when the
great megalonyx and mastodon, whose bones are now thrown up, were
still living in the land of the green prairies, there existed a bird
of such dimensions that he could easily carry off in his talons a
full-grown deer. Having obtained a taste of human flesh, from that
time he would prey upon nothing else. He was as artful as he was
powerful; would dart suddenly and unexpectedly upon an Indian, bear
him off to one of the caves in the bluff, and devour him. Hundreds of
warriors attempted for years to destroy him, but without success. {95}
Whole villages were depopulated, and consternation spread throughout
all the tribes of the Illini. At length _Owatoga_, a chief whose fame
as a warrior extended even beyond the great lakes, separating himself
from the rest of his tribe, fasted in solitude for the space of a
whole moon, and prayed to the Great Spirit, the Master of Life, that
he would protect his children from the _Piasa_. On the last night of
his fast the Great Spirit appeared to him in a dream, and directed him
to select twenty of his warriors, each armed with a bow and pointed
arrows, and conceal them in a designated spot. Near the place of their
concealment another warrior was to stand in open view as a victim for
the _Piasa_, which they must shoot the instant he pounced upon his
prey. When the chief awoke in the morning he thanked the Great Spirit,
returned to his tribe, and told them his dream. The warriors were
quickly selected and placed in ambush. _Owatoga_ offered himself as
the victim, willing to die for his tribe; and, placing himself in open
view of the bluff, he soon saw the _Piasa_ perched on the cliff, eying
his prey. _Owatoga_ drew up his manly form to its utmost height; and,
placing his feet firmly upon the earth, began to chant the death-song
of a warrior: a moment after, the _Piasa_ rose in the air, and, swift
as a thunderbolt, darted down upon the chief. Scarcely had he reached
his victim when every bow was sprung and every arrow was sped to the
feather into his body. The _Piasa_ uttered a wild, fearful scream,
that resounded far over the opposite side of the river, and expired.
_Owatoga_ was safe. {96} Not an arrow, not even the talons of the bird
had touched him; for the Master of Life, in admiration of his noble
deed, had held over him an invisible shield. In memory of this event,
this image of the Piasa was engraved in the face of the bluff."
Such is the Indian tradition. True or false, the figure of the bird,
with expanded wings, graven upon the surface of solid rock, is still
to be seen at a height perfectly inaccessible; and to this day no
Indian glides beneath the spot in his canoe without discharging at
this figure his gun. Connected with this tradition, as the spot to
which the Piasa conveyed his human victims, is one of those caves to
which I have alluded. Another, near the mouth of the Illinois,
situated about fifty feet from the water, and exceedingly difficult of
access, is said to be crowded with human remains to the depth of many
feet in the earth of the floor. The roof of the cavern is vaulted. It
is about twenty-five feet in height, thirty in length, and in form is
very irregular. There are several other cavernous fissures among these
cliffs not unworthy description.
The morning's dawn found our steamer gliding quietly along upon the
bright waters of the Illinois. The surface of the stream was tranquil;
not a ripple disturbed its slumbers; it was currentless; the mighty
mass of the Mississippi was swollen, and, acting as a dam across the
mouth of its tributary, caused a _back-water_ of an hundred miles. The
waters of the Illinois were consequently stagnant, tepid, and by no
means agreeable to the taste. There was present, also, a peculiarly
bitter twang, {97} thought to be imparted by the roots of the trees
and plants along its banks, which, when motionless, its waters steep;
under these circumstances, water is always provided from the
Mississippi before entering the mouth of the Illinois. But, whatever
its qualities, this stream, to the eye, is one of the most beautiful
that meanders the earth. As we glided onward upon its calm bosom, a
graceful little fawn, standing upon the margin in the morning
sunlight, was bending her large, lustrous eyes upon the delicate
reflection of her form, mirrored in the stream; and, like the fabled
Narcissus, so enamoured did she appear with the charm of her own
loveliness, that our noisy approach seemed scarce to startle her; or
perchance she was the pet of some neighbouring log-cabin. The Illinois
is by many considered the "_belle rivière_" of the Western waters,
and, in a commercial and agricultural view, is destined, doubtless, to
occupy an important rank. Tonti, the old French chronicler, speaks
thus of it:[87] "The banks of that river are as charming to the eye as
useful to life; the meadows, fruit-trees, and forests affording
everything that is necessary for men and beasts." It traverses the
entire length of one of the most fertile regions in the Union, and
irrigates, by its tributary streams, half the breadth. Its channel is
sufficiently deep for steamers of the larger class; its current is
uniform, and the obstacles to its navigation are few, and may be
easily removed. The chief of these is a narrow bar just below the town
of Beardstown,[88] stretching like a wing-dam quite across to the
western bank; and any boat which may pass this bar {98} can at all
times reach the port of the Rapids. Its length is about three hundred
miles, and its narrowest part, opposite Peru, is about eighty yards in
width. By means of a canal, uniting its waters with those of Lake
Michigan, the internal navigation of the whole country from New-York
to New-Orleans is designed to be completed.[89]
The banks of the Illinois are depressed and monotonous, liable at all
seasons to inundation, and stretch away for miles to the bluffs in
broad prairies, glimpses of whose lively emerald and silvery lakes,
caught at intervals through the dark fringe of cypress skirting the
stream, are very refreshing. The bottom lands upon either side, from
one mile to five, are seldom elevated much above the ordinary surface
of the stream, and are at every higher stage of water submerged to the
depth of many feet, presenting the appearance of a stream rolling its
tide through an ancient and gloomy forest, luxuriant in foliage and
vast in extent. It is not surprising that all these regions should be
subject to the visitations of disease, when we look upon the miserable
cabin of the woodcutter, reared upon the very verge of the water,
surrounded on every side by swamps, and enveloped in their damp dews
and the poisonous exhalations rising from the seething decomposition
of the monstrous vegetation around. The traveller wonders not at the
sallow complexion, the withered features, and the fleshless,
ague-racked limbs, which, as he passes, peep forth upon him from the
luxuriant foliage of this region of sepulchres; his only astonishment
is, that in such an atmosphere the human constitution {99} can
maintain vitality at all. And yet, never did the poet's dream image
scenery more enchanting than is sometimes unfolded upon this beautiful
stream. I loved, on a bright sunny morning, to linger hours away upon
the lofty deck, as our steamer thridded the green islets of the
winding waters, and gaze upon the reflection of the blue sky flecked
with cloudlets in the bluer wave beneath, and watch the startling
splash of the glittering fish, as, in exhilarated joyousness, he flung
himself from its tranquil bosom, and then fell back again into its
cool depths. Along the shore strode the bluebacked wader; the wild
buck bounded to his thicket; the graceful buzzard--vulture of the
West--soared majestically over the tree-tops, while the fitful chant
of the fireman at his toil echoed and re-echoed through the recesses
of the forests.
Upon the left, in ascending the Illinois, lie the lands called the
"_Military Bounty Tract_," reserved by Congress for distribution among
the soldiers of the late war with Great Britain.[90] It is
comprehended within the peninsula of the Illinois and Mississippi
Rivers, about an hundred and seventy miles in length and sixty broad,
embracing twelve of the northwest counties of the state. This tract of
country is said to be exceedingly fertile, abounding in beautiful
prairies and lakes; but the delta or alluvial regions cannot but prove
unhealthy. Its disposition for the purpose of military bounties has
retarded its settlement behind that of any other quarter of the state;
a very inconsiderable portion has been appropriated by the soldiers;
most of the titles have {100} long since departed, and the land has
been disposed of past redemption for taxes. Much is also held by
non-residents, who estimate it at an exorbitant value; but large
tracts can be obtained for a trifling consideration, the purchaser
risking the title, and many flourishing settlements are now springing
up, especially along the Mississippi.
Near the southern extremity of the Military Tract, at a point where
the river sweeps out a deep bend from its western bank, about fifty
years since was situated the little French village of _Cape au Gris_,
or Grindstone Point, so named from the neighbouring rocks. The French
seem to have vied with the natives in rendering the "signification"
conformable to the "thing signified," in bestowing names upon their
explorations in the West. The village of _Cape au Gris_ was situated
upon the bank of the river, and, so late as 1811, consisted of twenty
or thirty families, who cultivated a "common field" of five hundred
acres on the adjacent prairie, stretching across the peninsula towards
the Mississippi. At the commencement of the late war they were driven
away by the savages, and a small garrison from the cantonment of Belle
Fontaine, at the confluence, was subsequently stationed near the spot
by General Wilkinson. A few years after the close of the war American
emigration commenced. This is supposed to have been the site, also, of
one of the forts erected by La Salle on his second visit to the
West.[91]
As we ascended the Illinois, flourishing villages were constantly
meeting the eye upon either bank of the stream. Among these were the
euphonious {101} names of Monroe, Montezuma, Naples, and Havana! At
Beardstown the rolling prairie is looked upon for the first time; it
afterward frequently recurs. As our steamer drew nigh to the renowned
little city of Pekin, we beheld the bluffs lined with people of all
sexes and sizes, watching our approach as we rounded up to the
landing.[92] Some of our passengers, surprised at such a gathering
together in such a decent, well-behaved little settlement as Pekin,
sagely surmised the loss of a day from the calendar, and began to
believe it the first instead of the last of the week, until reflection
and observation induced the belief that other rites than those of
religion had called the multitude together. Landing, streets, tavern,
and groceries--which latter, be it spoken of the renowned Pekin, were
like anything but "angel's visits" in recurrence--all were swarmed by
a motley assemblage, seemingly intent upon _doing nothing_, and that,
too, in the noisiest way. Here a congregation of keen-visaged
worthies were gathered around a loquacious land-speculator, beneath
the shadow of a sign-post, listening to an eloquent holding-forth upon
the merits, relative and distinctive, of prairie land and bluff; there
a cute-looking personage, with a twinkle of the eye and
sanctimoniousness of phiz, was vending his wares by the token of a
flaunting strip of red baize; while lusty viragoes, with infants at
the breast, were battering their passage through the throng, crowing
over a "bargain" on which the "cute" pedler had cleared not _more_
than cent. per cent. And then there were sober men and men not sober;
individuals half seas over and whole seas {102} over, all in as merry
trim as well might be; while, as a sort of presiding genius over the
bacchanal, a worthy wag, tipsy as a satyr, in a long calico gown, was
prancing through the multitude, with infinite importance, on the
skeleton of an unhappy horse, which, between _nicking_ and _docking_,
a spavined limb and a spectral eye, looked the veritable genius of
misery. The cause of all this commotion appeared to be neither more
nor less than a redoubted "monkey show," which had wound its way over
the mountains into the regions of the distant West, and reared its
dingy canvass upon the smooth sward of the prairie. It was a spectacle
by no means to be slighted, and "divers came from afar" to behold its
wonders.
For nothing, perhaps, have foreign tourists in our country ridiculed
us more justly than for that pomposity of nomenclature which we have
delighted to apply to the thousand and one towns and villages
sprinkled over our maps and our land; instance whereof this same
renowned representative of the Celestial Empire concerning which I
have been writing. Its brevity is its sole commendation; for as to the
taste or appropriateness of such a name for such a place, to say
naught of the euphony, there's none. And then, besides Pekin, there
are Romes, and Troys, and Palmyras, and Belgrades, Londons and
Liverpools, Babels and Babylons _without account_, all rampant in the
glories of log huts, with sturdy porkers forth issuing from their
sties, by way, doubtless, of the sturdy knight-errants of yore
caracoling from the sally-ports of their illustrious {103} namesakes.
But why, in the name of all propriety, this everlasting plagiarizing
of the Greek, Gothic, Gallic patronymics of the Old World, so utterly
incongruous as applied to the backwoods settlements of the New! If in
very poverty of invention, or in the meagerness of our "land's
language," we, as a people, feel ourselves unequal to the task--one,
indeed, of no ordinary magnitude--of christening all the newborn
villages of our land with melodious and appropriate appellations,
may it not be advisable either to nominate certain worthy
dictionary-makers for the undertaking, or else to retain the ancient
Indian names? Why discard the smooth-flowing, expressive appellations
bestowed by the injured aborigines upon the gliding streams and
flowery plains of this land of their fathers, only to supersede them
by affixes most foreign and absurd? "Is this proceeding just and
honourable" towards that unfortunate race? Have we visited them with
so _many_ returns of kindness that this would overflow the cup of
recompense? Why tear away the last and only relic of the past yet
lingering in our midst? Have we too many memorials of the olden time?
Why disrobe the venerable antique of that classic drapery which alone
can befit the severe nobility of its mien, only to deck it out in the
starched and tawdry preciseness of a degenerate taste?
_Illinois River._
X
"It is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree!
What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand!"
_Childe Harold._
"Good-evening, sir; a good-evening to ye, sir; pleased with our
village, sir!" This was the frank and free salutation a genteel,
farmer-looking personage, with a broad face, a broad-brimmed hat, and
a broad-skirted coat, addressed to me as I stood before the inn door
at Peoria, looking out upon her beautiful lake. On learning, in reply
to his inquiry, "Whence do ye come, stranger?" that my birth spot was
north of the Potomac, he hailed me with hearty greeting and warm grasp
as a brother. "I am a Yankee, sir; yes, sir, I am a genuine export of
the old 'Bay State.' Many years have gone since I left her soil; but I
remember well the 'Mistress of the North,' with her green islands and
blue waters. In my young days, sir, I wandered all over the six
states, and I have not forgotten the valley of the Connecticut. I have
seen the 'Emporium' with her Neapolitan bay, and I have looked on the
'city of the monuments and fountains;' but in all my journeyings,
stranger, I have not found a spot so pleasant as this little quiet
Peoria of the Western wilderness!" Whether to smile in admiration
{105} or to smile at the oddity of this singular compound of truth and
exaggeration, propounded, withal, in such grandiloquent style and
language, I was at a loss; and so, just as every prudent man would
have acted under the circumstances, _neither_ was done; and the quiet
remark, "You are an enthusiast, sir," was all that betrayed to the
worthy man the emotions of the sublime and ridiculous of which he had
been the unwitting cause.
But, truly, the little town with this soft Indian name is a beautiful
place, as no one who has ever visited it has failed to remark. The
incidents of its early history are fraught with the wild and romantic.
The old village of Peoria was one of the earliest settlements of the
French in the Mississippi Valley; and, many years before the memory of
the present generation, it had been abandoned by its founders, a new
village having been erected upon the present site, deemed less
unhealthy than the former. The first house is said to have been built
in new Peoria, or _La ville de Maillet_, as was its _nom de nique_,
about the year 1778; and the situation was directly at the outlet of
the lake, one mile and a half below the old settlement.[93] Its
inhabitants consisted chiefly of that wild, semi-savage race of Indian
traders, hunters, trappers, voyageurs, _couriers du bois_, and
half-breeds, which long formed the sole link of union between the
northern lakes and the southwest. After residing nearly half a
century on this pleasant spot, in that happy harmony with their
ferocious neighbours for which the early French were so remarkable,
they were at length, in the {106} autumn of 1812, exiled from their
ancient home by the militia of Illinois, on charge of conniving at
Indian atrocities upon our people, a party having been fired on at
night while anchored before the village in their boats. The villagers
fled for refuge to their friends upon the Mississippi. In the autumn
of the succeeding year, General Howard,[94] with 1400 men, ascended
the Illinois; a fortress was constructed at Peoria in twelve days from
timber cut on the opposite side of the lake. It was named Fort Clarke,
and was occupied by a detachment of United States' troops. In course
of a few weeks the whole frontier was swept of hostile Indians. On the
termination of hostilities with Great Britain the fort was abandoned,
and soon after was burned by the Indians, though the ruins are yet to
be seen. The present settlement was commenced by emigrants but a few
years since, and has advanced with a rapidity scarcely paralleled even
in the West. Geographically, it is the centre of the state, and may at
some future day become its seat of government. It is the shire town of
a county of the same name; has a handsome courthouse of freestone; the
neighbouring regions are fertile, and beds of bituminous coal are
found in the vicinity. These circumstances render this spot, than
which few can boast a more eventful history, one of the most eligible
_locales_ in the state for the emigrant.
Its situation is indescribably beautiful, extending along the lake of
the same name, the Indian name of which was _Pinatahwee_, for several
miles from its outlet. This water-sheet, which is little more than an
expansion of the stream of from one to three miles, stretches away for
about twenty, and is divided near its middle by a contraction called
the _Narrows_. Its waters are exceedingly limpid, gliding gently over
a pebbly bottom, and abounding in fish of fifty different species,
from which an attempt for obtaining oil on a large scale was commenced
a few years since, but was abandoned without success. Some of the
varieties of these fish are said to be rare and curious. Several
specimens of a species called the "Alligator Garr" have been taken.
The largest was about seven feet in length, a yard in circumference,
and encased in armour of hornlike scales of quadrilateral form,
impenetrable to a rifle-ball. The weight was several hundred pounds;
the form and the teeth--of which there were several rows--similar to
those of the shark, and, upon the whole, the creature seemed not a
whit less formidable. Another singular variety found is the
"spoonfish," about four feet in length, with a black skin, and an
extension of the superior mandible for two feet, of a thin, flat,
shovel-like form, used probably for digging its food. The more
ordinary species, pike, perch, salmon, trout, buffalo, mullet, and
catfish, abound in the lake, while the surface is covered with geese,
ducks, gulls, a species of water turkey, and, not unfrequently, swans
and pelicans. Its bottom contains curious petrifactions and carnelions
of a rare quality.
From the pebbly shore of the lake, gushing out with fountains of
sparkling water along its whole extent, rises a rolling bank, upon
which now stands most of the village. A short distance and you ascend
a second eminence, and beyond this you reach {108} the bluffs, some of
them an hundred feet in height, gracefully rounded, and corresponding
with the meandering of the stream below. From the summit of these
bluffs the prospect is uncommonly fine. At their base is spread out a
beautiful prairie, its tall grass-tops and bright-died flowerets
nodding to the soft summer wind. Along its eastern border is extended
a range of neat edifices, while lower down sleep the calm, clear
waters of the lake, unruffled by a ripple, and reflecting from its
placid bosom the stupendous vegetation of the wooded alluvion beyond.
It was near the close of a day of withering sultriness that we reached
Peoria. Passing the Kickapoo, or Red Bud Creek,[95] a sweep in the
stream opened before the eye a panorama of that magnificent
water-sheet of which I have spoken, so calm and motionless that its
mirror surface seemed suspended in the golden mistiness of the summer
atmosphere which floated over it. As we were approaching the village a
few sweet notes of a bugle struck the ear; and in a few moments a
lengthened troop of cavalry, with baggage-cars and military
paraphernalia, was beheld winding over a distant roll of the prairie,
their arms glittering gayly in the horizontal beams of the sinking sun
as the ranks appeared, were lost, reappeared, and then, by an
inequality in the route, were concealed from the view. The steamer
"Helen Mar" was lying at the landing as we rounded up, most terribly
shattered by the collapsing of the flue of one of her boilers a few
days before in the vicinity. She had been swept by the death-blast
from one extremity {109} to the other, and everything was remaining
just as when the accident occurred, even to the pallets upon which had
been stretched the mangled bodies, and the remedies applied for their
relief. The disasters of steam have become, till of late, of such
ordinary occurrence upon the waters of the West, that they have been
thought of comparatively but little; yet in no aspect does the angel
of death perform his bidding more fearfully. Misery's own pencil can
delineate no scene of horror more revolting; humanity knows no
visitation more terrible! The atmosphere of hell envelops the victim
and sweeps him from the earth!
Happening casually to fall in with several gentlemen at the inn who
chanced to have some acquaintance with the detachment of dragoons I
have mentioned, I accepted with pleasure an invitation to accompany
them on a visit to the encampment a few miles from the town. The moon
was up, and was flinging her silvery veil over the landscape when we
reached the bivouac. It was a picturesque spot, a low prairie-bottom
on the margin of the lake, beneath a range of wooded bluffs in the
rear; and the little white tents sprinkled about upon the green
shrubbery beneath the trees; the stacks of arms and military
accoutrements piled up beneath or suspended from their branches; the
dragoons around their tents, engaged in the culinary operations of the
camp, or listlessly lolling upon the grass as the laugh and jest went
free; the horses grazing among the thickets, while over the whole was
resting the misty splendour of the moonlight, {110} made up a _tout
ensemble_ not unworthy the crayon of a Weir.[96] The detachment was a
small one, consisting of only one hundred men, under command of
Captain S----, on an excursion from Camp des Moines, at the lower
rapids of the Mississippi, to Fort Howard, on Green Bay, partially
occasioned by a rumour of Indian hostilities threatened in that
vicinity.[97] They were a portion of several companies of the first
regiment of dragoons, levied by Congress a few years since for the
protection of the Western frontier, in place of the "Rangers," so
styled, in whom that trust had previously reposed. They were all
Americans, resolute-looking fellows enough, and originally
rendezvoused at Jefferson Barracks. The design of such a corps is
doubtless an excellent one; but military men tell us that some
unpardonable omissions were made in the provisions of the bill
reported by Congress in which the corps had its origin; for, according
to the present regulations, all approximation to discipline is
precluded. Captain S---- received us leisurely reclining upon a
buffalo-robe in his tent; and, in a brief interview, we found him
possessed of all that gentlemanly _naïveté_ which foreign travellers
would have us believe is, in our country, confined to the profession
of arms. The night-dews of the lowlands had for some hours been
falling when we reached the village drenched with their damps.
Much to our regret, the stage of water in the Illinois would not
permit our boat to ascend the stream, as had been the intention, to
Hennepin, some twenty miles above, and Ottawa, at the foot of the
rapids.[98] Nearly equidistant between these {111} flourishing towns,
upon the eastern bank of the Illinois, is situated that remarkable
crag, termed by the early French "_Le Rocher_," by the Indian
traditions "_Starved Rock_," and by the present dwellers in its
vicinity, as well as by Schoolcraft and the maps, "_Rockfort_." It is
a tall cliff, composed of alternate strata of lime and sandstone,
about two hundred and fifty feet in height by report, and one hundred
and thirty-four by actual measurement. Its base is swept by the
current, and it is perfectly precipitous upon three sides. The fourth
side, by which alone it is accessible, is connected with the
neighbouring range of bluffs by a natural causeway, which can be
ascended only by a difficult and tortuous path. The summit of the crag
is clothed with soil to the depth of several feet, sufficient to
sustain a growth of stunted cedars. It is about one hundred feet in
diameter, and comprises nearly an acre of level land. The name of
"Starved Rock" was obtained by this inaccessible battlement from a
legend of Indian tradition, an outline of which may be found in
Flint's work upon the Western Valley, and an interesting story wrought
from its incidents in Hall's "Border Tales." A band of the Illini
having assassinated Pontiac, the Ottoway chieftain, in 1767, the
tribe of the Pottawattamies made war upon them. The Illini, being
defeated, fled for refuge to this rock, which a little labour soon
rendered inaccessible to all the assaults of their enemy. At this
crisis, after repeated repulse, the besiegers determined to reduce the
hold by _starvation_, as the only method remaining. The tradition of
this siege affords, perhaps, {112} as striking an illustration of
Indian character as is furnished by our annals of the unfortunate
race. Food in some considerable quantity had been provided by the
besieged; but when, parched by thirst, they attempted during the night
to procure water from the cool stream rushing below them by means of
ropes of bark, the enemy detected the design, and their vessels were
cut off by a guard in canoes. The last resource was defeated; every
stratagem discovered; hope was extinguished; the unutterable tortures
of thirst were upon them; a terrific death in anticipation; yet they
yielded not; the speedier torments of the stake and a triumph to their
foes was the alternative. And so they perished--all, with a solitary
exception--a woman, who was adopted by the hostile tribe, and was
living not half a century since. For years the summit of this old
cliff was whitened by the bones of the victims; and quantities of
remains, as well as arrow-heads and domestic utensils, are at the
present day exhumed. Shells are also found, but their _whence_ and
_wherefore_ are not easily determined. At the only accessible point
there is said to be an appearance of an intrenchment and rampart. A
glorious view of the Illinois, which, forming a curve, laves more than
half of the column's base, is obtained from the summit. An ancient
post of the French is believed to have once stood here.[99]
Brightly were the moonbeams streaming over the blue lake Pinatahwee as
our steamer glided from its waters. Near midnight, as we swept past
Pekin, we were roused from our slumbers by the plaintive {113} notes
of the "German Hymn," which mellowly came stealing from distance over
the waters; and we almost pardoned the "Menagerie" its multifold
transgressions because of that touching air. There is a chord in
almost every bosom, however rough and unharmonious its ordinary
emotions, which fails not to vibrate beneath the gentle influences of
"sweet sounds." From this, as from the strings of the wind-harp, a
zephyr may elicit a melody of feeling which the storm could never have
awakened. There are seasons, too, when the nerves and fibres of the
system, reposing in quietness, are most exquisitely attempered to the
mysterious influences and the delicate breathings of harmony; and such
a season is that calm, holy hour, when deep sleep hath descended upon
man, and his unquiet pulsings have for an interval ceased their
fevered beat. To be awakened then by music's cadence has upon us an
effect unearthly! It calls forth from their depths the richest
emotions of the heart. The moonlight serenade! Ah, its wild witchery
has told upon the romance of many a young bosom! If you have a
mistress, and you would woo her _not vainly_, woo her thus! I remember
me, when once a resident of the courtly city of L----, to have been
awakened one morning long before the dawn by a strain of distant
music, which, swelling and rising upon the still night-air, came
floating like a spirit through the open windows and long galleries of
the building. I arose; all was calm, and silent, and deserted through
the dim, lengthened streets of the city. Not a light gleamed from a
casement; not a {114} footfall echoed from the pavement; not a breath
broke the stillness save the crowing of the far-off cock proclaiming
the morn, and the low rumble of the marketman's wagon; and then,
swelling upon the night-wind, fitfully came up that beautiful gush of
melody, wave upon wave, surge after surge, billow upon billow, winding
itself into the innermost cells of the soul!
"Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet South,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour."
_Illinois River._