went down the lake in search of the property I had left in the
neighborhood of Fort Erie, Upper Canada, at the commencement of the late
war, as I have before mentioned. I arrived at Buffalo, and inquired for
the two gentlemen with whom I had left my business, and found they were
both dead. I then crossed over the river, and went to my old friend’s
house, and to my surprise found he was dead also. His unhappy widow
informed me that soon after my departure he was arrested by order of the
British government, and committed to prison, which was the last account
she had of him; but supposed that he made his escape, and either fell
into the hands of the Indians, or that in attempting to cross the lake
was drowned. The person who last had charge of my property was an
American born, but had become a British subject; he took an active part
in the late war against his own countrymen, and still persisted in so
doing; and totally refused to pay my demand. The persons with whom I
conversed on the subject, advised me to let it remain as it was;
observing that although the two governments were now at peace, yet a
personal envy still existed between individuals of the two nations, if
not between the governments; and as {53} the Court of King’s Bench was
now closing its session, and would not sit again until a year from that
time, there could be no action tried for a long time. This discouraged
me and I gave it up, purchased a horse, saddle and bridle, and returned
by land through this Upper Province to Detroit. On my journey back to
Detroit, I was most sensibly struck with the devastations which had been
made by the late war: beautiful farms, formerly in high cultivation, now
laid waste; houses entirely evacuated and forsaken; provision of all
kinds very scarce; and where once peace and plenty abounded, poverty and
destruction now stalked over the land. I returned to Detroit, where I
remained the most of my time till the fall of eighteen hundred and
eighteen; when not yet satisfied with roving about, I started, in
November, in company with another man, for the central part of Ohio. The
roads at this season of the year were very bad through the Michigan
Territory, which we were now travelling. We passed over the battle
ground of Frenchtown and river Raison;[31] to the river forty miles;
thence to Maumee rapids, forty miles; our nearest way now to go to
Sandusky river was thirty-five miles. On this last route we had no road;
the only guide for the traveller was marked trees.[32] The first morning
missed our way, got lost in the wilderness, and wandered about till
three o’clock in the afternoon, when we came to the old marked trees; we
walked on until sunset, when we were obliged to halt; struck up a fire,
broiled some pork, on the end of a stick, and with some bread refreshed
ourselves; but without drink, as there was no water fit for use. We laid
ourselves down by the body of an old tree, and partly got to sleep, but
were aroused from our slumbers by the horrid howling of a wolf, who had
walked up close to our backs. My companion was in great fear, and would
have run had I not stated to him the danger of leaving the fire. He
stopped, jumped up and down, hallooing with all his might. Not being
much acquainted with these animals, he considered his situation very
dangerous. After some time I persuaded him to lie down again, but it was
not long before the sound redoubled on our ears; his fears became
greater than before, as he found there was no retreat. I laid down
myself, {54} but could not possibly persuade him and he remained in
motion, and sometimes with yells which almost equalled the wolves,
through the night. Early in the morning we collected our things and
moved on; about nine o’clock came to a running stream of water; this was
a delicious treat to us, although I drank heartily several times before
I could taste in the least, my mouth had become so exceedingly dry. We
now began to think we had lost our way, but pursued on the same course
till we came to a log house, where we found a very friendly man who kept
a house of entertainment. We got some refreshment, and gave him an
account of our travel. He said it was a common thing for travellers to
get lost on that way, and informed us that we had gained but fifteen
miles. Just as he was saying this, a large wolf came up close to the
door, but seeing us, ran furiously into the woods; this, probably, was
our visitor the last night. On inquiry we found the distance to the next
house seventeen miles. At eleven o’clock we started, determined to see
the end of the woods that day; and after blundering over stumps and
rocks, and through mud till ten o’clock at night, we arrived at the
village of Lower Sandusky. Here I left my fellow-traveller, and
travelled on to the town of Greenville.[33] I tarried there till Spring,
and from thence went to a village called Portland, on Lower Sandusky
bay, where I arrived in April, 1819, fully satisfied with roving.[34]
Here I found a pleasant village containing about twenty-five houses,
besides two taverns, three large stores and store houses, and three
wharves of a considerable length; the water being of a sufficient depth
for vessels to come up and discharge their cargoes. The steamboat stops
here on her passage, and leaves many passengers, taking in others, &c.
The land in and about this village is owned by two men from Connecticut,
who calculated, probably, on a large town or city, but it has not
answered their expectations, people finding the place very unhealthy,
owing to the badness of the water. The unhealthiness of the place,
however, continues only from about the middle of July through the fall
months; the remaining part of the year is considered healthy. In the
month of March, wishing to go on to Cunningham’s {55} Island[35] with
another man, we took a canoe, and getting three others to assist us, we
made a rope fast to the bow of the canoe, and drew it across the bay two
miles, which was frozen over, to the lake which was not frozen. When we
were about half way across, one man on one side of the canoe and myself
on the other, both fell in, the ice breaking under us; but being one on
each side, we balanced the canoe and kept our heads out of water until
the other men broke the thin ice and drew the canoe partly up on to that
which was solid, and we crawled up, and thus escaped a watery grave. We
then went on, and reached the other shore. It being late in the
afternoon, our friends left us and returned. The beach here was clear of
snow and ice. We turned our boat up on one side so that it might make a
partial shelter for us during the night, and built a fire in front. We
then walked across the neck of land to the other side, saw the lake
clear of ice except a few floating pieces. Our object in crossing the
bay that afternoon was, that we might be ready to start on the lake
early in the morning, when there is generally but little wind, it being
then easier and safer, the water being smooth. We then returned back to
our boat, rekindled our fire, took our supper, dried my clothes as well
as I could, and camped for the night. But soon the wind began to blow,
and the snow fell very fast; within two hours it blew a heavy gale; our
fire was blown away, the boat fell over, and our only course was to run
back and forth upon the beach to prevent our perishing in the storm,
which sometimes appeared impossible for me to do. At length, to our
great joy, the morning came, the wind ceased, and the snow abated. The
ice, which we crossed in the afternoon, was broken up and driven into
heaps, with the addition of what had driven from the lake, and all up
and down the lake shore presented the same dreary appearance. We were
now hemmed in on all sides, and it was impossible to cross either with a
boat or on foot, and our only resource was, to prepare a camp in the
woods, which we did by cutting down trees and bushes, sticking the ends
into the ground which was not frozen, and forming the tops together over
our heads. We thus made us a comfortable cabin, built a large fire, ate
our {56} breakfast, and dried our clothes. We here remained seven days,
when all our provision had become exhausted, except some dry beans;
these boiled in water were made to supply the place of every other
necessary; and although we were compelled to acknowledge the flavor was
not quite so good, yet we were thankful that we had this means of
preserving ourselves from complete starvation. We were now in sight of
the village, and kept a large fire burning in the night to satisfy the
people that we were alive. During the day we were constantly watching
for the separation of the ice, so that we might pass; and on the seventh
day, in the afternoon, we thought we might accomplish our retreat.
Accordingly we put our boat into the water, and our things on board, and
with a pole pushing the ice from the boat, we made our way along for
some distance, when we saw a boat coming in the same manner to meet us.
Coming up with her, found it to be the same men who crossed the bay with
us on the ice, and who had come to relieve us. They turned their boat
about, and we all arrived safely home the same evening without
accomplishing our visit to Cunningham’s Island.
The inhabitants of the village remained very healthy until July, when a
new complaint of the eyes became epidemic among them. It attacked all
ages and sexes without distinction, and, with some, would, in a few
days, cause total blindness.
This complaint is, I believe, what physicians call the Egyptian
Opthalmia.[36] Some, who were very prompt in their applications, were
fortunate enough to recover their sight after a considerable time; and
others, not made wholly blind, never saw so well as before. Many of the
inhabitants were attacked with fever and ague, and these generally
escaped the more formidable disease of the eyes.
As for myself, I remained perfectly well until November, when, one
morning, my right eye was attacked with inflammation and swelling; and
the next morning my left eye was attacked in the same manner. The
inflammation gradually increased, so that in about three weeks I was
totally blind. My surgeon, a very skilful man, made every exertion for
my recovery, and about the middle {57} of December I could discern
light; and in ten or twelve days after, could distinguish colors. My
surgeon now being called into another section of the country, was absent
about three weeks, when, from the want of proper assistance, I grew
worse, and was again in total darkness. On his return, using every means
in his power, I was so far restored in a few weeks as to be able to
discern light; and continuing very slowly to gain until the first of
April. I could then see to distinguish capital letters.
A neighboring physician then calling in, advised my old surgeon to make
a new application, which he did, and to the expense of the total loss of
my sight. I now almost gave up all hopes of recovery; but not willing
wholly to despair, attempts were once more made; and by the middle of
August I could once more discern colors. Hearing much said of the eye
infirmary in the city of New-York, I resolved to visit that place; and
on the thirteenth of August, 1821, went on board a steamboat, proceeded
down the lake two hundred and fifty miles to Buffalo; thence in a waggon
one hundred and six miles to Geneva;[37] then went on board a boat down
the Seneca Lake, crossed the Cayuga Lake into the Erie canal,[38] thence
to Utica, where I took the stage for Albany. After travelling about
forty-five miles, was attacked with fever and ague, and was obliged to
stop three days; then went on board a boat down the Mohawk river to
Schenectady,[39] then in a waggon to Albany, where I tarried three
weeks, and then went on board a packet to New-York, where I arrived the
first day of October. I stayed here five days, called at the infirmary
several times, and conversed with different patients who had been there
for a considerable time; they discouraged me by saying they had found
little or no relief, and thought there were no hopes for me; at the same
time adding, that if I would go to Boston, I might do much better. I
considered the thing well, took their advice, was assisted out on the
turnpike, where on foot and alone I proceeded on through New Haven,
Hartford and Worcester, and without difficulty found the way to Concord,
Massachusetts, where I arrived on the twentieth of October, after an
absence of six years. Some time after {58} this I applied to several of
the most eminent physicians and surgeons in Boston, and finally went
into the General Hospital in that place, where I underwent various
medical and surgical treatment to no effect; and giving up all hope of
ever enjoying that light which the benevolent Creator has ordained for
the happiness and comfort of man, I have hitherto spent my time
comfortably, destitute of property, in the company and society of my
friends.
EVANS’S PEDESTRIOUS TOUR OF FOUR THOUSAND MILES—1818
Reprint of the original edition: Concord, New-Hampshire, 1819
[Illustration: [Man]]
A
PEDESTRIOUS TOUR,
OF
_FOUR THOUSAND MILES_,
THROUGH
THE WESTERN STATES AND TERRITORIES,
DURING
THE WINTER AND SPRING OF
1818.
_INTERSPERSED_
WITH BRIEF REFLECTIONS UPON A GREAT VARIETY OF TOPICS:
_RELIGIOUS, MORAL, POLITICAL, SENTIMENTAL, &c. &c._
BY ESTWICK EVANS.
“The blast of the north is on the plain:—the traveller shrinks in the
midst of his journey.”
_CONCORD: N. H._
PRINTED BY JOSEPH C. SPEAR.
1819.
DISTRICT OF NEW-HAMPSHIRE, TO WIT:
BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the 10th day of December, 1818, and in the
forty-third year of the Independence of the United States of America,
ESTWICK EVANS, of the said District, has deposited in this Office the
title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as Author, in the words
following, TO WIT:
“A Pedestrious Tour of Four Thousand miles, through the western States
and Territories, during the winter and spring of 1818; interspersed with
brief reflections upon a great variety of topics: religious, moral,
political, sentimental, &c. &c. By ESTWICK EVANS.
“The blast of the north is on the plain; the traveller shrinks in the
midst of his journey.”
In conformity to an act of the Congress of the United States, entitled,
“An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of
Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such copies,”
during the times therein mentioned: and also to an act entitled “An Act
supplementary to An Act,” entitled an act for the encouragement of
learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the
authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein
mentioned; and extending the benefits thereof to the Arts of Designing,
Engraving, and Etching Historical and other Prints.
PEYTON R. FREEMAN,
Clerk, of the District of New-Hampshire.
DISTRICT OF NEW-HAMPSHIRE, TO WIT:
BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the 18th day of January, 1819, and in the
forty-third year of the Independence of the United States of America,
ESTWICK EVANS, of the said District, hath deposited in this Office the
title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as Author, in the words
following, TO WIT:
“A Pedestrious Tour of Four Thousand miles, through the western States
and Territories, during the winter and spring of 1818; interspersed with
brief reflections upon a great variety of topics: religious, moral,
political, sentimental, &c. &c. By ESTWICK EVANS.
“The blast of the north is on the plain; the traveller shrinks in the
midst of his journey.”
In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled,
“An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of
Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such copies,”
during the times therein mentioned.
PEYTON R. FREEMAN,
Clerk, of the District of New-Hampshire.
A true copy of Record,
Attest, PEYTON R. FREEMAN, Clerk.
_The author is sensible that there are some typographical and other
errors in the following work; but as they will be found few and_
inconsiderable, _it is not deemed worth while to notice them_.
PREFACE
An author, however inconsiderable he may be, always feels that he has
something to say to the public concerning his work; he must, therefore,
have a preface. I think, however, that such a course is seldom
necessary; the world, after all which the writer can express, will judge
impartially of his motives, and of the execution of his plan.—My
introduction will be very brief.
In justice to myself I ought to observe, that until after finishing my
tour, I did not entertain the least idea of publishing an account of it;
and that I have been induced to take this step by the request of many of
my fellow-citizens.
It will be readily perceived, that a work of this kind does not admit of
the display of much reasoning or erudition; and I shall speak as little
of myself as will be consistent with the nature of the publication. This
little volume cannot possibly merit much praise; and I trust that it
will escape unqualified censure.
PORTSMOUTH, N. H. 1818.
TOUR
The supposed singularity of the tour, an account of which I am about to
write, suggests a few preliminary observations.
Customs and manners often produce more influence than principle. Whilst
the former are strictly adhered to, the latter is often violated. Here
we see the comparative influence of self-reproach and the reproach of
the world: a deviation from custom, in relation to modes of living and
acting, may excite animadversion. We shrink from the unfriendly gaze of
the multitude; and tremble even at the undeserved censure of the
superficial and ill-natured:—at the same time we disregard the
condemnation of our own hearts, and endeavour to cancel the obligations
of morality by the good, yet false, opinion of the world.
But it is readily acknowledged, that unless excentricity ought always to
be avoided; it invariably proceeds from error in taste, from
uncontrouled feeling, or from mental imbecility. The dispositions and
powers of men, however, are various; and the beaten track is not always
the field for improvement.
Civil society is not without its disadvantages. Whilst it adds to the
information, and polishes the manners of man, it lessens the vigour of
his mind and the generosity of his heart. He no longer experiences the
sublime inspirations of Nature. A creature of habit and the slave of
form, she will not {6} deign to visit him. From the factitious grandeur
of cities, she wings her eagle flight, to communicate to the
uncontaminated children of her forests her instruction and blessing.
In the savage state there is, no doubt, much individual depravity; as
great a degree of it, however, may be found in the most civilized
communities. But in the latter are never witnessed that nobleness of
spirit, that eloquence of thought, that force of expression, and that
wonderful aspect which the former affords.
It is true, that the aggregate advantages of civil society are much
greater than those of a state of nature; and how happy should we be if
we could ingraft the instruction, and impress the polish of civilization
upon the lofty virtues of untutored life. But, with us, courage gives
place to cowardice; and the native disinterestedness of man, the source
of his greatest virtues and highest happiness, yields to the
calculations of meanness and fraud. Even in public life we please
ourselves with the tinsel of narrow views, whilst we disregard those
great principles of national policy which alone can render us truly
great.
I have often been questioned as to the objects of my tour; and I am
willing to gratify a reasonable and friendly curiosity. My views were
various. Besides the ordinary advantages of travel, and of becoming
acquainted with a country comparatively but little known, I wished to
acquire the simplicity, native feelings, and virtues of savage life; to
divest myself of the factitious habits, prejudices and imperfections of
civilization; to become a citizen of the world; and to find, amidst the
solitude and grandeur of the western wilds, more correct views of human
nature and of the true interests of man. The season of snows was
preferred, that I might experience the pleasure of suffering, and the
novelty of danger. {7} On the second of February, 1818, I left the
residence of my friends, in Hopkinton, New-Hampshire, prepared,
according to the frontispiece, to meet the inclemency of the season, the
hostilities either of man or beast, and also to provide myself, in the
way of game, with provisions.
It may gratify some to know the particulars of my habiliment: Mine was a
close dress consisting of buffalo skins. On my shoulders were epaulettes
made of the long hair of the animal; and they were for the purpose of
shielding the shoulder from rain. Around my neck and under one arm was
strapped a double leather case, with brass chargers, for shot and ball;
and under the other arm a case for powder strapped in the same way, and
also having a brass charger. Around the waist was a belt, with a brace
of pistols, a dirk, two side cases for pistol balls, and a case for
moulds and screw. Also around the waist was buckled an Indian apron,
which fell behind: it was about eighteen inches square, covered with
fine bear skin, trimmed with fur, and having over the lower part of it a
net for game. This apron contained a pocket compass, maps, journal,
shaving materials, a small hatchet, patent fire works, &c. My cap and
gloves were made of fur, my moccasons were of deerskin, and on my
shoulder I carried a six feet rifle. The partners of my toils and
dangers were two faithful dogs.
In this situation I arrived at Detroit on the 20th of March. My dogs,
however, were destroyed by wolves, on the night of the tenth of that
month, in the vicinity of the Miami Swamp.
I had, in my juvenile days, voluntarily accustomed myself to fatigues,
hardships, and privations of every kind; but not having recently
exercised much, the snow being deep, and my dress and baggage heavy, my
fatigue, in the early stages of my tour, {8} was excessive: My first
day’s travel was only eight miles. In a short time, however, my daily
progress was from fifteen to twenty miles, through trackless snows and
over tremendous mountains. The universal curiosity which my appearance
excited was oppressive; but I had fortified my mind by reflection, and
endeavoured to present to all an aspect at once grave and mild. In the
course of my tour, I met, as might have been expected, a great variety
of character; from the savage of the wood to the savage of civil life;
and I sometimes found it necessary to appeal to my arms, for the defence
of the privileges of the traveller and the rights of the man.
My title-page promises reflections upon various subjects. I hope they
will neither be too frequent nor too lengthy. The study of man, both as
it respects the abstract principles of his nature and the almost
infinite variety of modes in which these principles, through the
influences of education and customs, develope themselves, should be one
great object of the traveller. In order to become well acquainted with
these principles, he must frequently and maturely examine his own heart.
Here alone can he ascertain the secret springs of action; here alone can
he define and classify the passions; and lastly, here alone can he find
the means of their controul, or of giving to them a proper direction.
Much information, in relation to this subject, may be collected from
books, and much by travel; but he who is ignorant of his own heart must
be ignorant of human nature.
In my way to the interior I passed through Amherst;[40] and reached this
place towards evening, during a heavy fall of snow. I had been
anticipating the pleasure of visiting the family of Judge C. who reside
there; but the ladies of the family, supposing me to be an indian,
barred the doors against me. I {9} soon, however, obtained a herald, and
then the castle gates were elegantly thrown open. On account of this
little adventure, which arose principally from the lateness of the
afternoon and from my being covered with snow, some captious scribblers
took the liberty, in the papers of the day, to be impudent. Could I
condescend to be offended with them, I should here tender my
forgiveness.
For the above anecdote I am indebted, principally, to the interesting
Miss L******, whose vivid imagination, aided by the story of the giants,
magically converted her habitation into an embattled tower, and gave to
a harmless knight a consequence which he did not deserve.
Amherst is a considerable inland town. The plain upon which the village
is situated is very spacious; and some of its buildings are large and
elegant.
From this place I proceeded to Milford,[41] the residence of my friend
P. whose love of principle, independence of character, and talents,
entitle him to much consideration. With him I passed some pleasant
hours. The appearance of this town is pleasant. The contrast between its
extensive intervales, and the rise of ground upon which its bridge,
manufactories, and village are situated, renders its aspect quite
interesting.
The distance between Amherst and Milford is only a few miles; but in
travelling from the former to the latter I found the snow deep and
stiffened by rain, and the road trackless.
The next day I began to ascend the mountains of New-Hampshire:—my native
hills!—Oh, may they be the everlasting abode of Liberty! The weather
here was variable, the snow in some drifts ten feet deep, my fatigue
extreme, and my health impaired. The towns of Milton and Temple,[42]
{10} situated in this part of the country, are pleasant; and the scenery
about them highly picturesque. Several branches of the Sowhegan in the
former, and the streams which pass into this river from the westerly
part of the latter, add much to the variety and beauty of the prospect.
The next evening I found myself in Marlborough. The weather had become
severe, and my ability to travel without fatigue was increasing. The
mountainous aspect of the country, the front of my cap, &c. whitened by
frost, and the creaking of the snow beneath my step, reminded me of
Wallace and Tell; those champions of freedom, whose physical nature was
as rugged as the rocks which they inhabited, and whose hearts, at the
same time, could glow with generosity, or soften with compassion. The
Grand Monadnock here attracted particular attention. It is more than two
thousand feet in height, and is remarkable for its cave and its fossils.
Peterborough and Dublin, the towns between Temple and Marlborough, are
interestingly situated. The former is very mountainous, and its numerous
brooks render it a fine grazing township. A principal branch of the
Contoocook passes near the centre of the town, and here unites with
Goose river flowing from Dublin. The latter place is exceedingly well
watered, and its two villages, together with some scattered houses, make
a pleasant appearance.
The coldness of the weather continued to increase. I passed on through
Keene[43] and Chesterfield. The appearance of the former excited much
interest. It is almost an inland city; and promises to make a very
conspicuous figure. It is also, evidently, a place of much business; and
from the appearance of some of its buildings, together with what little
knowledge I possess of its society, I should suppose {11} it a place of
considerable polish and refinement. Chesterfield too is a very pretty
town. The undulatory aspect of its hills, the quiet of its vales, and
the neatness of its village made a very pleasant impression upon my
mind.
Soon after leaving Keene I passed over high and steep hills. Some of
them were, apparently, several miles in length. In one of the vallies of
these mountains an amusing incident occurred. It is a trifle, and may be
thought not worth mentioning; I feel a pleasure, however, in doing
justice to good nature: I met three six feet fellows in a single sleigh.
They were, probably, going to Keene in their _best_. There had fallen,
the night before, a light snow of a few inches; and their horse, not
fancying my appearance, took it into his head, notwithstanding I gave
him the whole road, to sheer against the wall, and to turn all these
well-looking grenadiers into the snow. I was preparing to make an
apology; but it was unnecessary: the good nature of these liberal men
furnished for them and myself a hearty laugh.