The plan of travel I had laid down for myself did not permit of my
making any long stay in this new London. I was anxious to push on to the
Talbot Settlement, or, as it is called here, the Talbot _Country_, a
name not ill-applied to a vast tract of land stretching from east to
west along the shore of Lake Erie, and of which Colonel Talbot is the
sovereign _de facto_, if not _de jure_--be it spoken without any
derogation to the rights of our lord the king. This immense settlement,
the circumstances to which it owed its existence, and the character of
the eccentric man who founded it on such principles as have insured its
success and prosperity, altogether inspired me with the strongest
interest and curiosity.
To the residence of this "big chief," as an Indian styled him--a
solitary mansion on a cliff above Lake Erie, where he lived alone in his
glory--was I now bound, without exactly knowing what reception I was to
meet there, for that was a point which the despotic habits and
eccentricities of this hermit-lord of the forest rendered a little
doubtful. The reports I had heard of his singular manners, of his being
a sort of woman-hater, who had not for thirty years allowed a female to
appear in his sight, I had partly discredited, yet enough remained to
make me feel a little nervous. However, my resolution was taken, and the
colonel had been apprised of my intended visit, though of his gracious
acquiescence I was yet to learn; so, putting my trust in Providence, as
heretofore, I prepared to encounter the old buffalo in his lair.
From the master of the inn at London I hired a vehicle and a driver for
eight dollars. The distance was about thirty miles; the road, as my
Irish informant assured me, was quite "iligant!" but hilly, and so
broken by the recent storms, that it was thought I could not reach my
destination before nightfall, and I was advised to sleep at the little
town of St. Thomas, about twelve or fifteen miles on this side of Port
Talbot. However, I was resolute to try, and, with a pair of stout horses
and a willing driver, did not despair. My conveyance from Blandford had
been a baker's cart, on springs; but springs were a luxury I was in
future to dispense with. My present vehicle, the best to be procured,
was a common cart, with straw at the bottom; in the midst a seat was
suspended on straps, and furnished with a cushion, not of the softest. A
board nailed across the front served for the driver, a quiet,
demure-looking boy of fifteen or sixteen, with a round straw hat and a
fustian jacket. Such was the elegant and appropriate equipage in which
the "chancellor's lady," as they call me here, paid her first visit of
state to the "great Colonel Talbot."
On leaving the town, we crossed the Thames on a wooden bridge, and
turned to the south through a very beautiful valley, with cultivated
farms and extensive clearings on every side. I was now in the Talbot
country, and had the advantage of travelling on part of the road
constructed under the colonel's direction, which, compared with those I
had recently travelled, was better than tolerable. While we were slowly
ascending an eminence, I took the opportunity of entering into some
discourse with my driver, whose very demure and thoughtful, though
boyish face, and very brief, but pithy and intelligent replies to some
of my questions on the road, had excited my attention. Though perfectly
civil, and remarkably self-possessed, he was not communicative nor
talkative; I had to pluck out the information blade by blade, as it
were. And here you have my catechism, with question and response, word
for word, as nearly as possible.