OUR CLEARING AND THE FIRST RAILROAD CARS IN 1838.
Our prospects began to brighten a little, and it is needless for me to
attempt to describe what our feelings were, when we got a strip of the
primeval forest cleared away. Our clearing now extended across the two
lots, being half a mile east and west. It was about eighty rods wide on
the west side, running this width to the east a little over half way, and
it was forty or fifty rods wide on the east line. It contained about
sixty acres mostly logged and cleared off, but a few logs remained lying
on some of it.
We had burned the wood all up on the ground, as there was no market for
it, it was worthless. We burned up out of our way enough timber to have
made five thousand cords of cordwood. Father's big ax, which he brought
from the State of New York, and mine, by striking innumerable blows, had
been worn out long before this strip was cleared. The heavy, resounding
blows of those axes had been heard, and before them many trees had
fallen. They stood before the blows and trembled and swayed to and fro
and at last fell with a thundering crash, to the earth, to rise no more.
Some of their bodies broken, their limbs broken off, wounded and
bruised, and stripped of their beautiful foliage. The noise of their fall
and the force with which they struck the earth made the ground tremble
and shake, and let the neighbors know that father and I were chopping,
and that we were slaying the timber.
The grand old forest was melting away. The sides of many a tree had
been cleft, and the chips bursted out, and they had disappeared all but
their stumps. The timber was tall, I cut one whitewood that was about a
foot through at the butt, and measured eighty-three feet to a limb. It
ran up as straight as a liberty pole. I think our large timber was
about one hundred feet high. It was, to me, a little singular that the
smaller timber should run up so tall, equally as high as the large
timber. All appeared anxious to look at the sun, bask their green tops
in his rays and nestle and wave, in ruffles of green, above the high
arching boughs of the trees. Once I saw them wave, arrayed in a
different coat. Beautiful workmanship of nature was displayed in the
growth of that timber.
It is not always necessary to peer through glass slides in order to take
a panoramic view of the brilliant scenes dame nature presents, her
varying pictures and beautiful face. Her handiwork as exhibited by
herself is the most enchanting. Sometimes, the spectacle after a storm of
rain and sleet is grand and sublime, but the effect of such a storm is
not often seen as we view it now.
Early one spring, after nature had covered her face with a mantle of
snow and appeared to repose, she aroused from her winter slumber, and
adorned herself in a silvery robe. It was formed by drops of cold rain
showered down upon the little snow that was left, upon the trees and,
in fact, upon everything not under cover. Every bush and little twig was
loaded and hung down its head. The bodies and limbs of the trees were
alike covered and the boughs bent down under the heavy load of icy
armor. Icicles, glistening like jewels, hung from the eaves of the
house, from the fence rails, and from the limbs of our little fruit
trees. The currant brush, the rose bushes, the briers and prickly ash
were all encased in ice. From the points and ends of all the boughs,
small and large, icicles formed and hung down like tapers. To the point
of each was hanging a silver-like gem which had been frozen fast while
in the act of dropping.
Some of the trees were loaded so heavily that the limbs broke off and
went tearing down to the earth in a heterogeneous mass. The limbs broke
in pieces and their icy coat and icicles broke up like glass.
The next morning the "Whirl-dance of the blinding storm" of sleet had
passed away, but it had left its impression behind. There was formed a
crust on the little snow left which gave it a shining coat, transparent
as crystal. It was most beautiful. The sun shone clear and bright and
cast his golden rays across the face of nature. The trees and tree-tops,
the bushes and shrubs shone and glistened like so many thousand diamonds
and the earth was dazzling to look upon. It appeared mystical as a
silvery land, everything aglow and sparkling with radiant hues. The trees
and earth seemed vying with each other in most charming beauty like many
of earth's pictures.
It was a scene too bright and strange to last. A change was soon caused
by the warming rays of the sun. The icicles, which hung down like jewels,
melted, let go their hold and fell to the earth. The icy covering of the
trees began to melt and fall like tears. Very soon the snow and ice were
all gone and the ground left bare. Father said that he thought the trees
were more beautiful when clothed in green leaves than when covered with
ice though they were ever so bright. But to the clearing again.
Now finally I thought we had quite a clearing. I could stand by our
house, and look to the west, and see Mr. Pardee's house and the smoke of
his chimney. I could see Mr. Pardee and his sons when they came out in
the morning and went to their work. I could look to the east and there,
joining ours, was the clearing and house of Mr. Asa Blare, and he could
be seen. Then it began to seem as if others were living in Michigan, for
we could see them. The light of civilization began to dawn upon us. We
had cleared up what was a few years before, the lair of the wolf and the
hunting ground of the red man. The Michigan bird of the night had no more
chance to make his nest in hollow trees or live there, but had to go back
to the woods. There we could hear him almost any evening hallooing.
"Whoo! whoo! whoo!" His nearest neighbor would answer him, "Whoo! whoo!"
then they would get together and have a great talk about something.
Whether they were talking about our chickens, or our clearing off their
woods and driving them away, or something else, I cannot say as I did not
understand what they said.
Father said: "Now our best wood is worth something, as the road," which
is now the Michigan Central Railroad, "has got as far as Dearborn, and
they are building it farther west." He thought we could cut some of our
best timber into cord wood and sell it to the managers of the road, and
make something from it. We drew some of the first cord wood that they
used on the railroad, and continued to furnish a share of it for years.
We had learned what day the first steam car was expected out to Dearborn.
I went to see it, as it was to be there at a certain time of day. I was
in time and with others waited anxiously for its appearance. While we
were waiting I heard that there was to be a race from Mr. Conrad
TenEyck's, a distance of one mile, to Dearborn. William Cremer, a young
man who lived at TenEyck's, had made up his mind to have the race on his
own hook and let the people of Dearborn see him come in. He got his
sorrel, white-faced pony, had him saddled and bridled, and wailed in
readiness, so that when the iron horse came opposite he could try him a
race to Dearborn, and likewise try the speed of his pony. I don't suppose
the railroad men knew any thing about his arrangement. As the TenEyck
tavern, where he started, stood within twenty rods of the railroad, no
doubt some of the railroad men saw him when he started. Toward the
village the roads ran nearer and nearer together for about a hundred
rods, then came side by side for a short distance. As he had a little the
start, and came to the narrows first, he must have been in plain sight of
the men on the cars. It is easy to imagine how the puffs of the iron
horse scared the little sorrel and gave him, if possible, more speed. The
passengers who saw him might have thought it was another "train band
captain, John Gilpin," running after his wife. Nearly all the people of
Dearborn (who were but few at that time), had gathered in front of the
arsenal, in the Chicago road, at the side of the Dearborn House and were
anxiously waiting. From this point we could see half a mile down the
Chicago road east, and we could see the smoke of the engine beyond the
TenEyck place ...
The time appointed was up and we were very impatient, waiting and
looking, for the least sign of the approach of the long-talked-of cars.
As we were waiting some one said the cars would stop for Mr. TenEyck, as
he was the richest and most influential man there was in the town, and
the road ran a long way through his farm. Some said, "of course they will
stop and take him on." At last we could hear a distant rumbling like the
sound of a thousand horses running away, and we saw the smoke. As they
came nearer we saw a long string of smoke disappearing in the air. The
cars were approaching us rapidly, and stopped for no one. When they got
opposite Mr. Thompson's tavern, sure enough, there on the Chicago road
came William Cremer, like a streak, with his hat off, waving it in his
hand, looking back over his shoulder at the cars, hallooing like a
trooper and his horse running for dear life. He had beat them for the
mile. Of course, before Cremer got up to us, we all started for the
railroad, which was about twenty-five rods to the south, to see the iron
horse come in. He came prancing and pawing upon the iron track, and he
disdained to touch the ground. His body was as round as a log. His bones
were made of iron, his veins were filled with heat, his sinews were of
brass, and "every time he breathed he snorted fire and smoke." He moved
proudly up to the station, little thinking that he had just been beaten
by a Dearborn horse. "With his iron reins" he was easily controlled and
held in subjection by his master. His groom pampered and petted him,
rubbed him down, oiled his iron joints and gave him water to drink. He
fed him upon the best of cord-wood, as he relished that very well, and
devoured it greedily. The contents of his iron stomach seemed to be
composed of fire. While he was waiting he seemed to be very impatient,
letting off and wasting his breath and seeming eager for a start. He was
sweating profusely. The sweat was falling in drops to the ground. When
all was ready, the cry was, "All aboard!" and away he went snorting at
every jump.
[Illustration: FIRST RAILROAD CARS IN WAYNE COUNTY, MICH.---DETROIT TO
DEARBORN, 1837.]
I went home and told the wonderful story of the sight I had seen. There
was but little talked about, at our house, except the cars, until the
whole family had been to see them. We thought, surely, a new era had
dawned upon us, and that Michigan was getting to be quite a country.