A VISIT TO GREEN BAY--MAU-ZHEE-GAW-GAW SWAMP
The payment over, and the Indians dispersed, we prepared ourselves
to settle down quietly in our little home. But now, a new source of
disturbance arose.
My husband's accounts of disbursements as Agent of the Winnebagoes,
which he had forwarded to the Department at Washington, had failed to
reach there, of which he received due notice--that is to say, such
a notice as could reach us by the circuitous and uncertain mode of
conveyance by which intercourse with the eastern world was then kept
up. If the vouchers for the former expenditures, together with the
recent payment of $15,000, annuity money, should not be forthcoming, it
might place him in a very awkward position, so he decided to go at once
to Washington, and be the bearer himself of his duplicate accounts.
"Should you like to go and see your father and mother," said he to me,
one morning, "and show them how the west agrees with you?"
It was a most joyful suggestion after a year's separation, and in a few
days all things were in readiness for our departure.
There was visiting us, at that time, Miss Brush, of Detroit, who had
come from Green Bay with Mr. and Mrs. Whitney and Miss Frances Henshaw,
on an excursion to the Mississippi.[92] Our little india-rubber house
had contrived to expand itself for the accommodation of the whole
party during the very pleasant visit they made us.
The arrival of two young ladies, was, as may be imagined, quite a
godsend to the unmarried lieutenants, and when, tired of the journey,
or intimidated by the snow which fell eight inches on the 4th of
October, Miss Brush determined to give up the remainder of her
excursion, and accept our pressing invitation to remain with us, until
the return of her friends, we were looked upon as public benefactors.
She was now to accompany us to Green Bay, and possibly to Detroit.
Our voyage down the river was without incident, and we reached
Green Bay just as all the place was astir in the expectation of the
arrival of one of Mr. Newberry's schooners. This important event was
the subject of interest to the whole community, from Fort Howard
to "Dickenson's." To some its arrival would bring friends, to some
supplies--to the ladies, the fashions, to the gentlemen, the news, for
it was the happy bearer of the mails, not for that place alone, but for
all the "upper country."
In a few days the vessel arrived. She brought a mail for Fort
Winnebago, which in the winter season only was carried by land to that
place, via _Niles Settlement_ and Chicago.
In virtue of his office as Post Master, my husband opened the
mail-bag, and took possession of his own letters. One informed him
of the satisfactory appearance of the missing accounts, but oh! sad
disappointment, another brought the news that my parents had gone to
Kentucky for the winter--not to any city or accessible place, but up
"the Sandy," and over among the mountains of Virginia, hunting up old
land claims belonging to my grandfather's estate.
It was vain to hope to follow them. We might hardly expect to find them
during the short period we could be absent from home--not even were we
to receive the lucid directions once given my father by an old settler
during his explorations through that wild region.
"You must go up _Tug_," said the man, "and down _Troublesome_, and fall
over on to _Kingdom-come_."[AW]
[Footnote AW: Three streams or water-courses of that region.]
We did not think it advisable to undertake such an expedition, so we
made up our minds to retrace our steps to Fort Winnebago.
No boats were in readiness to ascend the river. Hamilton Arndt promised
to have one in preparation at once, but time passed by, and no boat was
made ready.
It was now the beginning of November. We were passing our time very
pleasantly with the Irwins and Whitneys, and at the residence of
Colonel Stambaugh, the Indian agent,[93] but still this delay was
inconvenient and vexatious.
I suggested undertaking the journey on horseback. "No, indeed," was the
answer I invariably received. "No mortal woman has ever gone that road,
unless it was on foot, nor ever could."
"But suppose we set out in the boat and get frozen in on the way. We
can neither pass the winter there, nor possibly find our way to a human
habitation. We have had one similar experience already. Is it not
better to take it for granted that I can do what you and others of your
sex have done?"
Dr. Finley, the post-surgeon at Fort Howard, on hearing the matter
debated, offered me immediately his favorite horse Charlie. "He was
very surefooted," the Doctor alleged, "and capital in a marsh or
troublesome stream."
By land, then, it was decided to go, and as soon as our old
Mee-no-mo-nee friend, "Wish-tay-yun," who was as good a guide by land
as by water, could be summoned, we set off, leaving our trunks to be
forwarded by Hamilton Arndt, whenever it should please him to carry out
his intention of sending up his boat.
We waited until a late hour on the morning of our departure for our
fellow-travellers, Mr. Wing, of Monroe,[AX] and Dr. Philleo, of
Galena; but finding they did not join us, we resolved to lose no time,
confident that we should all meet at the Kakalin in the course of the
evening.
[Footnote AX: At that time a delegate to Congress from the Territory.]
After crossing the river at what is now Despere,[94] and entering the
wild, unsettled country on the west of the river, we found a succession
of wooded hills, separated by ravines so narrow and steep that it
seemed impossible that any animals but mules or goats could make their
way among them.
Wish-tay-yun took the lead. The horse he rode was accustomed to the
country, and well trained to this style of road. As for Charlie, he was
perfectly admirable. When he came to a precipitous descent, he would
set forward his fore-feet, and slide down on his haunches in the most
scientific manner, while my only mode of preserving my balance was to
hold fast by the bridle, and lay myself almost flat upon his back. Then
our position suddenly changed, and we were scaling the opposite bank,
at the imminent risk of falling backward into the ravine below.
It was amusing to see Wish-tay-yun, as he scrambled on ahead, now and
then turning partly round to see how I fared. And when, panting and
laughing, I at length reached the summit, he would throw up his hands,
and shout with the utmost glee, "Mamma Manitou!" (My mother is a
spirit).
Our old acquaintances, the Grignons, seemed much surprised that I
should have ventured on such a journey. They had never taken it,
although they had lived so long at the Ka-kalin,[95] but then there was
no reason why they should have done so. They could always command a
canoe or a boat when they wished to visit "the bay."
As we had anticipated, our gentlemen joined us at supper. "They had
delayed to take dinner with Col. Stambaugh--had had a delightful gallop
up from the bay--had seen no ravines, nor anything but fine smooth
roads--might have been asleep, but if so, were not conscious of it."
This was the account they gave of themselves, to our no small amusement.
From the Ka-kalin to the Butte des Morts,[96] where now lived a man
named Knaggs, was our next day's stage. The country was rough and wild,
much like that we had passed through the spring before, in going from
Hamilton's diggings to Kellogg's Grove, but we were fortunate in having
Wish-tay-yun, rather than Mr. H., for our guide, so that we could make
our way with some degree of moderation.
We had travelled but forty miles when we reached Knaggs', yet I was
both cold and fatigued, so that the sight of the cosy little room in
which we found Mrs. Knaggs, and the bright fire, were most cheering
objects; and as we had only broken our fast since morning, with a few
crackers we carried in our pockets, I must own we did ample justice to
her nice coffee and cakes, not to mention venison-steaks and bear's
meat, the latter of which I had never before tasted, and which, truth
to tell, I never wished to taste again.
Our supper over, we looked about for a place of repose. The room in
which we had taken our meal was of small dimensions, just sufficient to
accommodate a bed, a table placed against the wall, and the few chairs
on which we sat. There was no room for any kind of a "shake down."
"Where can you put us for the night?" inquired my husband of Mr.
Knaggs, when he made his appearance.
"Why, there is no place that I know of, unless you can camp down in the
old building outside."
We went to look at it. It consisted of one room, bare and dirty. A
huge chimney, in which a few brands were burning, occupied nearly one
side of the apartment. Against another was built a rickety sort of
bunk. This was the only vestige of furniture to be seen. The floor was
thickly covered with mud and dirt, in the midst of which, near the
fire, was seated an old Indian with a pan of boiled corn on his lap,
which he was scooping up with both hands, and devouring with the utmost
voracity.
We soon discovered that he was blind. On hearing footsteps and voices,
he instinctively gathered his dish of food close to him, and began some
morose grumblings; but when he was told that it was "Shaw-nee-aw-kee"
who was addressing him, his features relaxed into a more agreeable
expression, and he even held forth his dish and invited us to share its
contents.
"But are we to stay here?" I asked. "Can we not sleep out of doors?"
"We have no tent," replied my husband, "and the weather is too cold to
risk the exposure without one."
"I could sit in a chair all night, by the fire."
"Then you would not be able to ride to Bellefontaine to-morrow."
There was no alternative. The only thing Mr. Knaggs could furnish in
the shape of bedding was a small bearskin. The bunk was a trifle less
filthy than the floor, so upon its boards we spread first the skin,
then our saddle-blankets, and with a pair of saddle-bags for a bolster,
I wrapped myself in my cloak, and resigned myself to my distasteful
accommodations.
The change of position from that I had occupied through the day,
probably brought some rest, but sleep I could not. Even on a softer and
more agreeable couch, the snoring of the old Indian and two or three
companions who had joined him, and his frequent querulous exclamations
as he felt himself encroached upon in the darkness, would have
effectually banished slumber from my eyes.
It was a relief to rise and prepare for the journey of the day. Where
our fellow-travellers had bestowed themselves I knew not, but they
evidently had fared no better than we. They were in fine spirits,
however, and we cheerfully took our breakfast and were ferried over the
river to continue on the trail from that point to Bellefontaine, twelve
miles from Fort Winnebago.
The great "bug-bear" of this road, Mau-zhee-gaw-gaw Swamp, was the next
thing to be encountered. We reached it about nine o'clock. It spread
before us a vast expanse of morass, about half a mile in width, and of
length interminable, partly covered with water, with black knobs rising
here and there above the surface, to afford a precarious foothold for
the animals in crossing it. Where the water was not, there lay in place
of it, a bed of black oozy mud, which threatened to give way under the
foot, and let it, at each step, sink into an unknown depth.
This we were now to traverse. All three of the gentlemen went in
advance of me, each hoping, as he said, to select the surest and
firmest path for me to follow. One and another would call, "Here,
madam, come this way!" "This is the best path, wifie--follow me," but
often Charlie knew better than either, and selected a path according to
his own judgment, which proved the best of the whole.
Once he went picking his way so slowly and cautiously, now pausing on
one little hillock, now on another, and anon turning aside to avoid a
patch of mud that seemed more than usually suspicious, that all the
company had got some little distance ahead of me. On raising my eyes,
which had been kept pretty closely on my horse's footsteps, I saw
my husband on foot, striving to lead his horse by the bridle from a
difficult position into which he had got, Mr. Wing and his great white
floundering animal, lying sideways in the mud, the rider using all
his efforts to extricate himself from the stirrups, and Dr. Philleo
standing at a little distance from his steed, who was doing his best
to rise up from a deep bog into which he had pitched himself. It was a
formidable sight! They all called out with one accord,
"Oh! do not come this way!"
"Indeed," cried I, "I have no thought of it. Charlie and I know
better"--and trusting to the sagacious creature, he picked his way
carefully along, and carried me safely past the dismounted company. I
could not refrain from a little triumphant flourish with my whip, as I
looked back upon them, and watched their progress to their saddles once
more.
Three hours had we been thus unpleasantly engaged and yet we were not
over the "Slough of Despond." At length we drew near its farthest
verge. Here ran a deep stream of some five or six feet in width. The
gentlemen, as they reached it, dismounted, and began debating what was
to be done.
"Jump off, jump off, Madam," cried Mr. Wing, and "Jump off, jump off,"
echoed Dr. Philleo--"we are just consulting how we are to get you
across."
"What do you think about it?" asked my husband. "Charlie will show
you," replied I. "Come, Charlie," and as I raised his bridle quickly,
with a pat on his neck and an encouraging chirp, he bounded over the
stream as lightly as a deer, and landed me safe on terra firma.
Poor Mr. Wing had fared the worst of the company; the clumsy animal he
rode seeming to be of opinion when he got into a difficulty that he had
nothing to do but to lie down and resign himself to his fate; while his
rider not being particularly light and agile, was generally undermost,
and half imbedded in the mire before he had quite made up his mind as
to his course of action.
It was therefore a wise movement in him, when he reached the little
stream, to plunge into it, and wade across, thus washing out, as much
as possible, the traces of the morning's adventures, from himself and
his steed, and the other gentlemen, having no alternative, concluded to
follow his example.
We did not halt long on the rising ground beyond the morass, for we had
a long stretch before us to Bellefontaine, forty-five miles, and those
none of the shortest.
Our horses travelled admirably the whole afternoon, Charlie keeping
a canter all the way, but it was now growing dark, and there were no
signs of the landmarks which were to indicate our near approach to the
desired haven.
"Can we not stop and rest us for a few moments under one of the
trees?" inquired I, for I was almost exhausted with fatigue, and to add
to our discomfort, a cold November rain was pouring upon us.
"If it were possible, we would," was the reply, "but see how dark it is
growing. If we should lose our way, it would be worse than being wet
and tired."
So we kept on. Just at dark we crossed a clear stream. "That," said my
husband, "is, I think, two miles from Bellefontaine. Cheer up--we shall
soon be there." Quite encouraged we pursued our way more cheerfully.
Mile after mile we passed, but still no light gleamed friendly through
the trees.
"We have certainly travelled more than six miles now," said I.
"Yes--that could not have been the two mile creek." It was eight
o'clock when we reached Bellefontaine.[97] We were ushered into a large
room made cheerful by a huge blazing fire. Mr. Wing and Dr. Philleo had
arrived before us, and there were other travellers, on their way from
the Mississippi. I was received with great kindness and volubility, by
the immense hostess, "la grosse Americaine," as she was called, and she
soon installed me in the arm-chair, in the warmest corner, and in due
time set an excellent supper before us.
But her hospitality did not extend to giving up her only bed for my
accommodation. She spread all the things she could muster on the hard
floor before the fire, and did what she could to make me comfortable;
then, observing my husband's solicitude lest I might feel ill from the
effects of the fatigue and rain, she remarked in tones of admiring
sympathy, "How kind your companion is to you!" An expression which, as
it was then new to us, amused us not a little.
Our travelling companions started early in the morning for the fort,
which was but twelve miles distant, and they were so kind as to take
charge of a note to our friends at home, requesting them to send Plante
with the carriage to take us the rest of the distance.
We reached there in safety, and thus ended the first journey by land
that any white woman had made from Green Bay to Fort Winnebago.