My little bark has been soaked in the water again, and Ba’tiste and
Bogard have paddled, and I have steered and dodged our little craft
amongst the snags and sawyers, until at last we landed the humble
little thing amongst the huge steamers and floating palaces at the
wharf of this bustling and growing city.
And first of all, I must relate the fate of my little boat, which had
borne us safe over two thousand miles of the Missouri’s turbid and
boiling current, with no fault, excepting two or three instances, when
the waves became too saucy, she, like the best of boats of her size,
went to the bottom, and left us soused, to paddle our way to the shore,
and drag out our things and dry them in the sun.
When we landed at the wharf, my luggage was all taken out, and removed
to my hotel; and when I returned a few hours afterwards, to look for my
little boat, to which I had contracted a peculiar attachment (although
I had left it in special charge of a person at work on the wharf); some
_mystery_ or _medicine_ operation had relieved me from any further
anxiety or trouble about it—it had gone and never returned, although it
had safely passed the countries of mysteries, and had often laid weeks
and months at the villages of red men, with no laws to guard it; and
where it had also often been taken out of the water by _mystery-men_,
and carried up the bank, and turned against my wigwam; and by them
again safely carried to the river’s edge, and put afloat upon the
water, when I was ready to take a seat in it.
St. Louis, which is 1400 miles west of New York, is a flourishing
town, of 15,000 inhabitants, and destined to be the great emporium of
the West—the greatest inland town in America. Its location is on the
Western bank of the Mississippi river, twenty miles below the mouth of
the Missouri, and 1400 above the entrance of the Mississippi into the
Gulf of Mexico.
This is the great depôt of all the Fur Trading Companies to the Upper
Missouri and Rocky Mountains, and their starting-place; and also for
the Santa Fe, and other Trading Companies, who reach the Mexican
borders overland, to trade for silver bullion, from the extensive mines
of that rich country.
I have also made it _my_ starting-point, and place of deposit, to which
I send from different quarters, my packages of paintings and Indian
articles, minerals, fossils, &c., as I collect them in various regions,
here to be stored till my return; and where on my _last return_, if I
ever make it, I shall hustle them altogether, and remove them to the
East.
To this place I had transmitted by steamer and other conveyance, about
twenty boxes and packages at different times, as my note-book shewed;
and I have, on looking them up and enumerating them, been lucky enough
to recover and recognize about fifteen of the twenty, which is a pretty
fair proportion for this wild and desperate country, and the very
_conscientious hands_ they often are doomed to pass through.
Ba’tiste and Bogard (poor fellows) I found, after remaining here a few
days, had been about as unceremoniously snatched off, as my little
canoe; and Bogard, in particular, as he had made show of a few hundred
dollars, which he had saved of his hard earnings in the Rocky Mountains.
He came down with a liberal heart, which he had learned in an Indian
life of ten years, with a strong taste, which he had acquired, for
whiskey, in a country where it was sold for twenty dollars per gallon;
and with an independent feeling, which illy harmonized with rules and
regulations of a country of laws; and the consequence soon was, that by
the “Hawk and Buzzard” system, and Rocky Mountain liberality, and Rocky
Mountain prodigality, the poor fellow was soon “jugged up;” where he
could deliberately dream of beavers, and the free and cooling breezes
of the mountain air, without the pleasure of setting his trap for the
one, or even indulging the hope of ever again having the pleasure of
breathing the other.
I had imbibed rather less of these delightful passions in the Indian
country, and consequently indulged less in them when I came back; and
of course, was rather more fortunate than poor Bogard, whose feelings
I soothed as far as it laid in my power, and prepared to “lay my
course” to the South, with colours and canvass in readiness for another
campaign.
In my sojourn in St. Louis, amongst many other kind and congenial
friends whom I met, I have had daily interviews with the venerable
Governor Clark, whose whitened locks are still shaken in roars of
laughter, and good jests among the numerous citizens, who all love him,
and continually rally around him in his hospitable mansion.
Governor Clark, with Captain Lewis, were the first explorers across the
Rocky Mountains, and down the Colombia to the Pacific Ocean thirty-two
years ago; whose tour has been published in a very interesting work,
which has long been before the world. My works and my design have
been warmly approved and applauded by this excellent patriarch of the
Western World; and kindly recommended by him in such ways as have been
of great service to me. Governor Clark is now Superintendent of Indian
Affairs for all the Western and North Western regions; and surely,
their interests could never have been intrusted to better or abler
hands.[3]
So long have I been recruiting, and enjoying the society of friends in
this town, that the navigation of the river has suddenly closed, being
entirely frozen over; and the earth’s surface covered with eighteen
inches of drifting snow, which has driven me to the only means, and I
start in a day or two, with a tough little pony and a packhorse, to
trudge through the snow drifts from this to New Madrid, and perhaps
further; a distance of three or four hundred miles to the South—where
I must venture to meet a warmer climate—the river open, and steamers
running, to waft me to the Gulf of Mexico. Of the fate or success
that waits me, or of the incidents of that travel, as they have not
transpired, I can as yet say nothing; and I close my book for further
time and future entries.
[3] Some year or two after writing the above, I saw the
announcement of the death of this veteran, whose life has been
one of faithful service to his country, and, at the same time, at
strictest fidelity as the guardian and friend of the red men.
LETTER—No. 36.