It was about twenty years ago, on a bright November morning, that a
large covered wagon, drawn by four horses, came to a halt in front of
the office of the Receiver of Money for the Public Lands in the village
of Monroe, territory of Michigan. The wagon in question contained
implements of husbandry, a plentiful stock of provisions, and all the
household furniture of a family consisting of an old man and his wife,
three sons, and two daughters; and their outside possessions were
comprised in a small but miscellaneous herd of cows, oxen, sheep, and
hogs. The head of this family was a New York farmer in indigent
circumstances, who had conceived the idea of making himself a home in
what was then the wilderness of Michigan. All the money he had in the
world was one hundred dollars, and with this he purchased at the
land-office a tract of eighty acres of uncultivated land, which he had
never seen, but upon which he was about to locate with his family. The
honest and independent deportment of this emigrant enlisted the feelings
of the Receiver, and he accordingly extended an invitation to him and
his party to spend the night under his roof. The invitation was
accepted, and after a “lucid interval” of comfortable repose, and
cheered by a warm breakfast, the emigrating party respectfully took
their leave of their entertainer, and started upon their dreary
pilgrimage.
The distance they had to travel was some hundred and eighty miles. As
the roads were new and rough, they plodded along, day after day, at a
slow rate, and with much difficulty; took their meals in the open air,
and spent their nights under a tent, with only a few heavy quilts to
protect them from the dampness of the ground. While upon this journey
they were overtaken by cold weather, and, in fording one of the many
streams which crossed their route, the venerable emigrant had one of his
legs frost-bitten, which resulted, after much delay and trouble in
sending for a physician, in its amputation. His life was spared,
however, and in due time, in spite of the calamity which had befallen
them, the emigrants were encamped upon their “land of promise.”
Having thus reached the end of their journey, the first thing to be done
was to erect a suitable dwelling wherein to spend the winter; and, the
father of the family having been rendered almost helpless by his
misfortune, the labor of building it devolved exclusively upon his sons,
the youngest of whom was a mere boy. Animated by a most noble spirit,
they fell to work without any delay, and in the course of ten days had
accomplished their first task, and were the masters of a comfortable
log-cabin. It stood on the sandy knoll of an “oak opening,” and in the
immediate vicinity of a sparkling rivulet. The only evidences of
civilization which surrounded them were the stumps, and chips, and
decaying branches which covered the site of their labors; but the
emigrants had a home, and though a rude and apparently comfortless one,
they were satisfied, if not happy.
The winter days passed rapidly away; and, while the disabled emigrant
did little else than keep himself warm by his huge wood-fire, his sons
were felling the trees on every side, and doing their utmost to enclose
their domain. And at night, when gathered at the evening meal, or in a
circle around their hearth, and the newly-cut wood was hissing under the
influence of the bright flame, they would talk over the pleasures of
other days, experienced in a distant portion of the land, and cherish
the hope that the future had even more happiness in store. Within their
cabin was to be found the spirit of genuine religion, and, as the
hopeful music of woman’s voice was there, and their hearts were bound
together by the chords of a holy family love, they were indeed happy.
It was now the spring-time of the year, a warmer tint was in the sky,
and all around the wilderness was beginning to blossom like the rose.
The birds were building their nests, and their sweet minstrelsy was
heard throughout the air; and there, too, was the tinkling of bells, for
the cattle sought their food in the remote dells, and returned at the
sunset hour, with their udders teeming full. The brush and waste wood of
the “girdled clearings” were gathered into heaps and burnt—in the
daytime forming fantastic columns of smoke, and at night making the
midnight darkness, save where the flame was particularly brilliant, more
profound. And then the plough was brought forth, and made to try its
strength in turning up the virgin soil. Our emigrant friend has now
entirely recovered from his late disaster, and, having manufactured for
himself an artificial leg, he begins to think it time for him to lend a
helping hand towards accelerating the improvements of his “farm.” The
smell of the ploughed field has given him a thrill of pleasure, and he
determines to try what he can accomplish in the way of planting corn.
This effort proves successful, and, as he becomes accustomed to the use
of his new member, he takes the lead in most of the farming operations,
and thinks no more of his past sufferings than of the fact that he is
what many people are pleased to term a poor man.
As industry and virtue are almost invariably followed by prosperity, we
must not wonder at the future career of our Western pioneer. Five years
have passed away, and, as his crops have been abundant, we find him the
possessor of half a thousand acres of valuable land instead of one
hundred. He has also gathered the means to build himself a new frame
house; and, as the “harvest is past and the summer ended,” his barns are
filled to overflowing. On every side are spread out extensive fields,
and his hired men may be counted by the dozen. They have gathered in the
crops, and, after a brief furlough, a portion of them will take
possession of the barns, and devote themselves to the flail, while the
remainder will enter some neighboring woodland with their axes, and
proceed in their laborious work of destruction. Winter comes, and still
the sounds of the flail and the axe are heard in the barn and in the
forest. The coldest of winds may blow, and the snow may fall so as to
bury the fences, but what matter? The genius of health reigns supreme.
All the day long, and at night, huge fires are blazing in the dwelling
of the pioneer; his larder is filled with an abundance of the good
things of life, and his numerous cattle are more comfortably housed than
himself when first he came into the wilderness. Spring has returned once
more, and a new life has been instilled not only into the earth, but
also into the blood of man.
It is now the delightful season of midsummer, and we see before us,
basking in the sunshine, a domain of two thousand acres of land, in the
highest state of cultivation. Capping the summit of a hill stands a
spacious and elegant mansion, surrounded with outhouses, and bespeaking
the possessor to be a man of opulence and taste. In one direction,
fading away to a great distance, lie a succession of fields waving with
golden grain; in another, hill beyond hill of the deep green and
graceful corn; in another we see a magnificent meadow, with hundreds of
cattle and horses and sheep quietly grazing or sporting in their glee;
and in another direction an almost impenetrable forest, where the
black-walnut, the white-wood, the oak, and the hickory strive to excel
each other in the respective attributes of beauty and might. And this is
the home and the domain of the Western pioneer. Less than a mile distant
from his mansion stands a charming village, from which arises a single
spire, pointing to the Christian’s home. The pastor of that church is
the youngest son of our friend the pioneer. Within said village, too,
may be seen an “Eagle Hotel,” and a “New York Store,” which are both the
property of his two elder sons. At their expense a public school has
been established within the village. The country around is intersected
with the best of roads, along which the heavily-laden wain pursues its
snail-like course, and the mail coach rattles along with its panting
horses, nine passengers on the inside, and a deep coating of dust on the
boot and everything outside. Plenty and peace have taken possession of
the land, and the pioneer of other days has become the nabob of the
present time.