_Journey from Chicago to Springfield—Oak Plains—Travellers—Crowded
House—DuPage—Benighted—Clatterman’s—Ottawa—Family from New
England—Travellers—Gouging—Sleeping Accommodation—Peoria—Pekin
Storekeeper—Saltcreek—Hospitality of
Inhabitants—Springfield—Prairies—Notices of Nature—Face of the
Country—Soil—Agricultural Notices._
I left Chicago at ten in the morning of the 19th September: rain having
fallen, rendered the prairie difficult to walk on, especially when the
soil was wet. A number of Indians were travelling in different
directions, and also heavy waggons, some of the attendants of which
carried guns for the purpose of shooting on the journey.
I dined twelve miles from Chicago, at a hotel on the river Oak Plains, a
stream on which people were engaged in erecting a mill, and the waters
of which were competent to propel machinery of moderate power. On asking
the workmen if the stream flowed into Lake Michigan, they answered, “It
joined the Illinois, although in time of high freshets it sometimes
crossed the plains to the Chicago concern.” This is evidence of the
level surface of this part of America; the river Oak Plains, after
running in a southerly direction for half a degree of latitude, takes a
westerly course at a point twelve miles from Chicago, and only a few
feet above the level of Lake Michigan, and its waters join the sea at
New Orleans, while those of the lake flow into the Gulf of St Lawrence.
When crossing the Oak Plains, five or six geese alighted in the stream,
and I stood and saw a young man shoot one of them, who pointed out the
proper road across the prairie, which had become doubtful by two or
three diverging in different directions. While in the middle of the
prairie, two Indian men and a boy, the former with guns over their
shoulders, and the latter with a bow, perfectly naked, with exception of
a piece of blue cloth round their loins, and a few quills twisted into
their hair, approached me, and whom I saluted with a nod of the head.
They spoke in a language which I did not comprehend; they seemed equally
unsuccessful with me; and we parted, smiling at the fruitlessness of our
attempts. When nearly across the prairie, after passing the river, a
waggon overtook me, in which were two young men, who offered me a seat,
which I readily accepted. On learning the route I had travelled, they
particularly enquired about the waggons I had passed between Detroit and
Chicago, as they expected their parents to be then moving from New
England to join them in Illinois, and were anxiously looking for their
arrival. After riding about a mile we came to a tavern called the
Doctor’s, inhabited by a practitioner of medicine, getting the
appellation of Doctor, although in all probability not holding a
diploma.
The Doctor, on our arrival, was drawing water from a well built with
stones, which is uncommon in this part of the country, few people taking
so much pains to keep their water free of mud. The travellers acted as
their own ostler. On entering the house, which was a small log hut of
one apartment, I found a wife, four or five children of different ages,
and two travellers, one of whom was called squire, which is, I believe,
synonymous with judge, and corresponds with justice of the peace in
Britain. For some time I was puzzled to conceive where we were all to
sleep, and at length four of us were shown up a ladder into a garret, or
cock-loft, in which there were two beds. I took possession of one in
partnership with the squire, who told me, before going to sleep, that he
had lately suffered much from fever, and finding himself unwell, he had
stopt here for the night, instead of proceeding to Chicago. On rising at
daybreak, I found two travellers sleeping on the floor at the foot of
the ladder. The Doctor, his wife, and two children, lying in bed in the
ordinary way, and other two children lying across their feet. After
seeing the exertions made by this family to accommodate strangers, and
the consequent uncomfortableness of their own situation, I felt thankful
for the poor half bed allotted me, and in course of my travels duly
appreciated the most homely fare and accommodation, when it was the best
my entertainers could supply.
The inhabitants in this part of the country reside on the skirts of the
prairie, for the convenience of obtaining fire and fencing timber, and I
felt hungry before getting across a large one, after setting out from
the Doctor’s. Here, as in some parts of Canada, there are few taverns,
but almost every inhabitant entertains travellers for payment. On
entering the first house I reached, two well-dressed, genteel-looking
women were sewing at a window, one of whom said she could not furnish
breakfast without some inconvenience, and on apologizing for mistaking
her house for a tavern, she directed me to one about a mile distant,
near the banks of the river Du Page. After partaking of breakfast, I
examined a mill on the river, and again faced a prairie, the limits of
which were beyond the reach of vision. The day was extremely warm, and I
sauntered slowly along, collecting seeds of the various plants, and
washing my feet in the different streams I had to wade without my
stockings and shoes, by way of excusing myself from exertion under so
hot a sun. At length I met two travellers in a vehicle, who asked me how
far they were from the next house. After replying, I put the same
question, and was told twenty-five miles. At this time the sun was
sinking towards the horizon. I had no alternative but to push on, and as
evening approached, got into my best pace. Night, however, set in before
I could discern the forest at the termination of the prairie, and while
ruminating on the still seclusion which surrounded me, I was cheered by
the faint barking of a dog. The road diverged into two lines, and
darkness prevented me selecting the most beaten path, when the
appearance of a light in the distance decided the choice. I was now in
high spirits at the near prospect of terminating my walk, and
disregarded getting off the tract I had chosen, still keeping straight
on the light, which recalled to memory the song of “the Beacon light” I
had often heard sung by my youngest sister. Whatever may have been the
degree of interest excited by scenes and occurrences in a foreign land,
the associations connected with my birthplace never failed to impart the
most grateful and soothing emotions, and I had seldom been placed in
circumstances so favourable to such enjoyment. “The Beacon light”
suggested a thousand recollections which thrilled upon my soul; and as
they flitted across my memory, I proceeded with an elastic step,
whistling the air to which the words of the song are set, when I
suddenly found myself up to the middle in water. There was sufficient
light to enable me to see my situation was not attended with danger; and
after wading for a hundred yards or two, and scrambling over a rail
fence, I found myself on dry land. On applying at the house, the light
of which had long attracted my notice, I was received for the night, and
found three or four waggoners sitting down to supper, of which I partook
without much solicitation. The travellers slept in a different house
from the family, and each had the luxury of a single bed.
Next morning I breakfasted before setting out, and assisted my host, of
the name of Clatterman, to brand some oxen, of which he had nearly
forty, with a proportionate share of other agricultural wealth. In the
middle of the prairie I met about a dozen of horses, in charge of three
individuals, one of whom was particular in his enquiries regarding
Chicago, to which he was journeying to dispose of his horses. Like most
traffickers, he lost no opportunity of attaining his end, and asked me
to purchase one. Having walked upwards of forty miles the previous day,
under unfavourable circumstances, and not feeling in the least degree
fatigued, I determined to persevere walking for some time longer. Coming
in contact with the river Illinois, about half a mile above its junction
with the Fox river, I waded across a channel of freestone, where there
was a considerable sized island of the same rock, covered with wood. On
reaching the south side of the river, I walked down the banks, and dined
at Ottawa, a place of three or four houses, a little way below the mouth
of Fox river, and likely to grow into a city, from being at the head of
the navigation of the Illinois. Pursuing my journey until nightfall, I
made application for a bed at a house which was filled with travellers
and fever patients, and the owner recommended me to proceed four miles
further on. By the light of the moon I was enabled to cross the river
Vermilion by a sort of embankment for changing the direction of the
stream for mill purposes, and got under the roof of a New Englander, who
had lately come to this part of the country. The family consisted of the
old pair, two handsome young women, and a male visitor, whose bed in the
garret I shared. Every thing in the house was particularly clean and
neat. The manners of the inmates were calm and dignified, a smile never
playing on their countenances, or an emphatic sound proceeding from
their lips. For tea, bed, and breakfast, the charge of 1s. ½d. sterling,
was made.
Next day I applied for dinner at a house where a poor man was suffering
much from sickness, and medical assistance had been called in. The
family were about to sit down to a good dinner, of which I partook,
paying 6¼d. sterling. Night closed on me while in the middle of a
prairie, and I felt some apprehension of passing the cottages, which are
not easily discovered in a faint light, being almost invariably situated
a few yards in the forest, and of the same dark shade. A breeze, highly
tainted with the scent of fried pork, led me to expect a house, and to
which a light, proceeding from a half-opened door, served to guide me. I
found four travellers, the landlord, and his wife, assembled in a poor
habitation, lighted by what they termed a string, or piece of twine,
dipt in tallow, and which gave a glimmering light, so that we could
scarcely distinguish objects. There seemed to be only three tea-cups in
the house; the party had, consequently, to feed by turns, and, being a
stranger, I was requested by all to seat myself at the first table, an
honour to which my appetite led me to make no serious objection.
One of the travellers was descended from the original French, a little
merry fellow, speaking indifferent English, and two others consisted of
an old man and his son, originally from Kentucky. Both of these
individuals differed in their language and manners from most of the
people I had come in contact with since leaving Canada. The old man
spoke a good many words according to negro pronunciation, and both were
addicted to swearing. The son, about thirty-five years of age, was one
of the best-looking and finest formed men I met in America. I soon
discovered he was slightly intoxicated, and a most profligate character.
Being anxious to shun conversation with him, I was annoyed at his
placing his chair beside mine; and as there was neither another house
nor apartment to retire to, I endeavoured to make the most of my
situation. Having replied to his enquiry what countryman I was, by
asking him to guess, he successively said, Dutchman, German, Englishman,
and Irishman, and fearing he might lose patience, I at last told him a
Scotchman. He had never heard of Scotchmen before, and insisted I must
be one of the Scotch-Irish, which I afterwards learnt means, in this
part of the world, the inhabitants of the north of Ireland. The
discussion about Scotch-Irish suggested the proudest feat of his life.
He said Jim Partridge was an Irishman, able to whip any man in America,
and who must have been heard of in my country. He had a whipping-match
with Jim, who fell, and was in act of being gouged, when the bystanders
lifted him off Jim, who, seizing a stick, cut his head with it in a
dreadful manner. Gouging is performed by twisting the fingers into the
hair of the victim, and with the thumb forcing the eye out of its
socket. This savage act has long been known in Kentucky and some of the
western states, and was often resorted to when parties quarrelled. It is
now, however, confined to the lowest blackguards, and of rare
occurrence. The eyes of the wretch sparkled with delight when relating
the prostrate situation of Jim, and the prospect of gouging him, and he
explained his brutal attempt by placing his fingers in my hair and on my
face, when I could scarcely trust his intentions. He also insisted that
I should feel the indention made by Jim’s stick, and I thought his skull
must have been as hard as his heart to have withstood such a blow.
The house was in all respects a mean one, containing little furniture,
and two beds, from one of which rose an emaciated person, labouring
under aberration of mind, and to whom the house and lands adjoining
belonged. I began to feel uneasy about the sleeping accommodation, as
both beds would be required for the family, and there was no garret
apartment. The landlord at length drew forth from the corner of the room
a dirty tick and covering, which were placed in the middle of the floor,
and formed the sleeping place of five individuals, who arranged
themselves latitudinally on the pallet. I was anxious for an outside
berth, in order to have sea-room in case of accident, but the
complaisance of the gouger deprived me of this position, and I found
myself placed for the night between the old man and his son. None of the
travellers thought of unrobing; and after putting off my shoes, I laid
my head on my knapsack, which was the only thing in shape of a pillow to
be had. My situation was far from enviable; fumes of whisky and squirts
of tobacco juice assailing me on every side, and I considered the
partner of my bed more savage than the wolf of the forest. Speedily
falling into a profound sleep, from which I was awoke at daybreak by the
Frenchman searching for his saddle, the horrors of my situation flashed
on my mind, and I stealthily crawled from the bed, my movements being
accelerated by the gouger muttering an ugly oath.
On gaining the outside of the door, the freshness of the air was
delightful. The sky was cloudless, and in walking through the trees, the
paroquets fluttered from their resting-places with a shrill cry. On
reaching the opposite side of the wood, herds of cattle were seen
streaming from the forest, and the smoke of the morning fires ascending
in graceful columns, undisturbed by the serene atmosphere. The
prairie-hen rose from the pathway with a purring noise, and the little
gophers stood on end, and seemed to regard me as an intruder. The sun
peered above the prairie, as if rising from the ocean, and gilded the
nodding sunflower, whose brilliancy was heightened by dewdrops sparkling
on the blossom leaves, and with which I washed my face. Nature was
decked in a winning garb, and the events of the previous evening were
forgotten in wooing her beauties.
On entering a house at the end of the prairie, I found every thing neat
and clean, and two well-dressed females cheerfully provided breakfast.
One of them was in delicate health, and had lately come from the Du
Page, where she left a coloured man in charge of her establishment,
about whose health she felt anxiety, as almost every one on the river
had been afflicted with fever. It so happened that I had called at this
lady’s house for the purpose of enquiring the way, which was pointed out
by the coloured man, who was then in good health.
When about to partake of breakfast, I was joined by a traveller in a
light car, who passed me on the previous evening, and he expressed
surprise to find me before him, having gone a mile off the direct road
to escape passing the night in the house in which I lodged. He resided
at Pekin, and had come direct from Chicago, which he left about six
hours after me, and had travelled at what he considered a good pace. He
asked me to take a seat in his car, and we travelled together twelve or
fourteen miles on the wooded banks of the Illinois till opposite Peoria,
when we crossed the river in a ferry-boat, leaving the horse attached to
a tree.
Peoria takes its name perhaps from the tribe of Indians called Peorias,
and which is now almost extinct. It is situated on a lake, or an
expansion of the river, two miles wide, and four or five in length, at
some elevation above the water, and commanding a view of the lake and
fine wooded banks on the opposite side.
The village exhibits marks of considerable age, but none of prosperity.
I found the dinner hour past, and fared indifferently. There being
nothing to attract attention at Peoria, I recrossed the ferry, where the
horse was still standing, and bent my way to Pekin, which I reached a
little before sunset.
Pekin, sometimes called Pekin-on-the-hill, is situated on the Illinois,
and is progressing rapidly. The hotel was filled with permanent
boarders, who seemed to be engaged in the different mechanical arts. The
landlord was crawling about the house in a debilitated state, and
evidently a fever patient. The people assembled at table addressed me by
the name of stranger, and showed considerable attention; a female, as
usual, filling out tea.
For three days past I had been without shoe-ties, both having broken
after leaving Chicago, the bark of trees having since then been
substituted. I made application for a supply at different stores in
Pekin, without success. In one instance I found the storekeeper
stretched at full length, with his back on the counter, and his feet
touching the roof. At first I did not observe him, as the light from a
candle was faint, and I was surprised at hearing human sounds proceeding
from such an unseemly thing. He answered my enquiries regarding
shoe-ties dryly, without altering his position. On retiring I purposely
left the door of the store open, with the view of rousing him from his
unelegant posture. My stratagem did not, however, succeed, and I began
to think the individual might be a philosopher engaged in study, instead
of a demi-savage, which his behaviour at first led me to suppose.
On retiring to bed, I was deposited in a pretty huge apartment,
containing seven or eight beds, some of which were occupied by sick
people, and others were passing to and fro, at all hours of the night. I
rose early in the morning, and bent my course towards Springfield, in
Sangamon county, leaving the river Illinois to the westward. I applied
for breakfast, at an early hour, at a solitary house, which an overgrown
young woman readily supplied, baking bread and stewing a fowl in a very
short space of time, for which she charged well. In course of
conversation, I learned her husband was from the State of New York, and
had lived sometime in Indiana. Her children were evidently unhealthy,
and she said sickness was no great misfortune, as it was so easy to get
a living in the country. After breakfast I passed several small prairies
and the river Mackinaw, when I entered on a large and uninhabited one,
sixteen miles across. The day being very warm, I felt a good deal
fatigued, and was anxious to obtain dinner and shelter from the sun, but
on gaining the only house on the road, I was told the whole family were
sick, and it was impossible for me to obtain dinner. I proceeded to a
hotel on Salt creek, which I reached with scarcely sufficient light
remaining to distinguish the house.
The landlord of the hotel, Mr Music, was from home, and two daughters
and a son did the honours of the house. These people seemed in good
circumstances, having a well-stocked farm and abundance of Indian corn.
On my arrival, I was asked whether I would have bread of Indian corn or
wheat, and all seemed surprised to hear I had never tasted the former.
Two other travellers on horseback arrived, and bread of both kinds was
presented at table.
One of the travellers was on his way to Galena, for the purpose of
getting payment of horses he had sold some time before. He was
originally from Kentucky, and now resided in the neighbourhood of
Jacksonville. His manners were somewhat rough, and with this individual
I had much conversation. At first he was most anxious to engage me as a
farming-help, admitting that he himself had become too lazy to work
hard, and pressed me again and again to name my terms. To him and others
who wished my assistance as farming-help, I uniformly expressed
thankfulness for their kindness, and assured them that circumstances did
not admit me to reside in the country. Before separating, he offered me
a letter to his wife, who would give me free board at his house till he
returned, and his sons would drive me over the adjoining country. I took
down his address and left him, with a promise to visit Mrs Taylor if
time permitted me.
The travellers breakfasted at Salt creek before setting out on their
journey, which is good policy in thinly settled districts. The day was
excessively warm, and I suffered considerably from thirst. On passing a
cottage, before reaching Sangamon river, a girl was drawing water, from
whom I asked a drink; she went into the house and brought a tumbler,
which she filled with indifferent water, and handed over the rails. When
about to depart, a woman of prepossessing appearance came to the door,
and asked me to enter the house and shelter myself from the sun. I
thanked her, and in return, said I was anxious to reach Springfield in
time for dinner. She told me her husband, who was sick, liked above all
things to converse with travellers, and hoped for his sake I would enter
the house. There was something so earnest in the woman’s manner that I
would have found difficulty in resisting her entreaties at any time, and
on the present occasion my inclination yielded a willing assent.
The husband was stretched on a clean uncurtained bed, and appeared in a
most debilitated state. He brightened up by degrees, and showed he
possessed a good deal of information. He was particular in his enquiries
about Ottawa, on the river Illinois, to which he had some thoughts of
removing, as he had resolved to leave his present situation, where he
had resided for six years, on account of the scarcity of water. His
health and that of all his family had been good until the present time,
when he was seized with fever, which he thought the doctor had broken.
He regretted that his weakness could not stand cooking meat in the
house, but if I could partake of other food, his wife would place it
before me. A snow-white cloth was spread on the table, followed by
bread, milk, butter, and preserved fruits of excellent quality, and to
which I did justice. On departing, I received an invitation to call at
the house if ever I passed in the direction. Soon afterwards, crossing
the Sangamon river in a boat, although the stream was not more than
eighteen inches deep, I reached Springfield about two o’clock.
Dinner was readily promised at the hotel, although past the regular
hour, and in the meantime I prepared to wash and shave. On asking for a
bedroom, the landlord personally brought water, and on a second
application, soap and a mirror. I had now discovered that I also wanted
a towel, and at last, conscious of the impropriety of keeping the master
of the house running up and down stairs on my account, I moved off to
the pump-room and apologized for my past conduct, on the score of being
a stranger in the country, and unacquainted with its customs. I had no
cause to regret this proceeding, the landlord being remarkably attentive
during my stay, pointing out what was worthy of notice, and offering his
horse to visit them.
In the evening I passed two individuals conversing on the prairie, to
whom I nodded, a practice universal in all country places of the States
I visited. After proceeding a short distance, one of the persons
overtook me, and commenced conversation. “Sir, you are a
European?”—“Yes.”—“And an Englishman?”—“No; I am a Scotchman.”—“You are
at a great distance from your own country?”—“I am, but the sight of this
beautiful one has repaid me for the journey.”—“You are a mechanic?”—“No;
I have been a farmer from my youth upwards.”—“What induced you to come
here?”—“We farmers in Scotland, finding ourselves uncomfortably
situated, desire to emigrate to this country, the accounts of which
being contradictory, I resolved to see it personally.” The old gentleman
descended from his horse, with sparkling eyes, shook me by the hand,
saying, “In me you have found a friend.” There was something in the
man’s expression and warmth of manner so unexpected in this part of the
world, that I asked if he was from Scotland. He said his name was
Humphries, originally from Pennsylvania, his parents being of Welsh
extraction. I was pressed to pass the night at his house, and on
declining to do so, agreed to breakfast with him next morning.
I found the old gentleman, and what I supposed two daughters, expecting
my arrival. The house contained several apartments, in one of which were
some dozens of books on a shelf. Mr Humphries appeared verging on
seventy. We walked over the farm, and after partaking of excellent
melons, I took leave about noon, much gratified with my visit, and with
the kindest invitations to visit him or his family at a future period.
On arriving at the hotel, I learned that two Scotchmen had called for
me, Mr D—— and Mr B——, and I rode across a prairie, after dinner, to see
Mr D——, at his steam saw-mill on the Sangamon river. On my return to
Springfield, I spent the evening in company with two ladies from New
England, and one from Scotland. They agreed in thinking Illinois a hard
country for women and cattle, as helps could not always be had. My
countrywoman smiled at my objections to the slave states, and maintained
the coloured population were not human beings, but inferior animals
created for slavery. It was painful to hear a lady advance such
opinions, who in youth must have imbibed very different sentiments and
principles, and I attributed the change she had undergone to her
residence in a slave state, and affording in herself an instance of the
evils of slavery. Her observations required from me a reply; and the
subject dropt, on my remarking there were many white slaves in the
world, some being slaves to their passions, and others to their
prejudices.
Springfield is an irregular village of wooden houses, containing about
1200 souls. It is three miles from Sangamon river, which is only
navigable for small boats at the melting of the snow in spring. There
are good stores of all descriptions in the village.
The word prairie is derived from the French, and signifies meadow. In
America it means grass-land naturally free from timber, and is used in
this sense by me. Prairies have not been found in the eastern parts of
North America, and many conjectures exist regarding their origin in the
west. The general opinion is, they originated from, and owe their
continuance to, the agency of fire. It is quite certain fire sweeps over
them, at present almost every autumn, destroying the entire vegetation
on the surface; but whether proceeding from human or natural agency
remains unsolved, and it probably arises occasionally from both. The
burning must destroy seedling-trees, which would otherwise perhaps
occupy the whole surface by the wafting of seeds; and the continuance of
prairies may be, in many instances, owing to fire, but after having seen
them in all situations, it does not seem to account satisfactorily for
their origin. Prairies of a few yards’ extent are found in the midst of
dense and extensive forests, and rows of trees jutting miles into the
open country, without visible agency to account for their preservation.
Fire cannot be supposed to have originated the first case, nor the
absence of it the last, as it is seldom so partial in its effects. I
have no theory to offer instead of fire for the origin of prairies,
which seem productions of nature. The localities of plants are often
found to be partial, and Britain exhibits furze, heath, grasses, and
different species of trees, exclusively occupying the surface of certain
parts as natural productions. In America, trees vary in number on a
given space, from the dense forest to the oak opening, with half-a-dozen
of trees to an acre. Unless it be maintained that nature has allotted a
certain number of trees to a given extent of surface, it will be idle to
deny her handiwork in having formed oak openings and prairies, which are
met with in all situations, and which often seem to merge into each
other.
My friends in the Canadas used every argument to dissuade me from
journeying to the junction of the rivers Mississippi and Missouri. They
represented the country through which I intended passing as a
pestilential swamp, inhabited by demi-savages and dangerous animals. If,
perchance, I escaped disease and enemies, I would become low-spirited in
the wilderness, and to proceed alone and unarmed, would be little short
of insanity. But how different was the result! With the companionship of
nature, and the God of nature as my protector, want of company and fear
were unfelt, and I regard my wanderings on the prairie as the most
pleasing and instructive period of my existence.
Having reached Chicago with an unsocial party of travellers, and
gradually passing from the forests and oak openings of Michigan, it was
not until after crossing the river Des Plaines that I became fully
sensible of the beauty and sublimity of the prairies. They embrace every
texture of soil and outline of surface, and are sufficiently undulating
to prevent the stagnation of water. The herbage consists of tall grass,
interspersed with flowering plants of every hue, which succeed each
other as the season advances. The blossoming period was nearly over at
the time of my journey. Sunflowers were particularly numerous, and
almost all the plants had yellow blossoms. Every day brought me in
contact with species formerly unobserved, while others with which I had
become familiar, disappeared. Occasionally, clumps of trees stood on the
surface, like islands in the ocean. The bounding forest projected and
receded in pleasing forms, and the distant outlines appeared graceful. I
had no time for searching out and studying scenery, and perhaps
conceptions of beauty and grouping of trees, formed in the artificial
school of Britain, are inapplicable to the magnificent scale on which
nature hath adorned the country between Chicago and Springfield. The
works of man are mere distortions compared with those of nature, and I
have no doubt many prairies, containing hundreds of square miles, exceed
the finest English parks in beauty as much as they do in extent.
Sometimes I found myself in the midst of the area without a tree or
object of any kind within the range of vision, the surface, clothed with
interesting vegetation around me, appearing like a sea, suggested ideas
which I had not then the means of recording, and which cannot be
recalled. The wide expanse appeared the gift of God to man for the
exercise of his industry; and there being no obstacle to immediate
cultivation, nature seemed inviting the husbandman to till the soil, and
partake of her bounty. Mr Malthus’s doctrine, that population increases
faster than the means of subsistence, appeared more than doubtful, and
involving the unhallowed thought of a Being of infinite goodness and
power leaving man, a favoured object of creation, without the means of
subsistence. If a considerable portion of mankind ever are in want of
food, the cause will be found to arise from human agency, and not from
nature refusing to do her part. I felt grateful at beholding a field so
well fitted to relieve the depressed and starving population of Great
Britain and Ireland, while the conduct of their land-owning and
tithe-eating legislators, in restricting the circulation of nature’s
bounty, appeared sinful.
It has already been observed, that fire passes annually over the
prairies, which may perhaps account for the absence of clovers and
fibrous-rooted grasses, the herbage consisting chiefly of three or four
tall growing species, the creeping roots of which escape destruction,
and continue to exist without renewal from seed. At this advanced period
of the season, the coarse withered grass seemed unpalatable to animals,
and the cattle were, generally, browsing on parts which had been burned,
with a view of affording a succession of nutritious food. I collected
the seeds of many plants without knowing any thing of their usefulness
or beauty. On the banks of Meadowcrow creek, a small tributary of the
river Illinois, I first met the indigenous hop, apparently identical
with that of England, and from the Sangamon brought the leguminous and
earth seeds of _Glycine Monica_, a species of hazel exceeding four feet
in height, and indigenous to the whole extent of country through which I
travelled on the American continent, and which commonly fringed the
prairie, and graduated the change from forest to open plain. They were
loaded with small nuts, which sometimes satisfied my hunger.
The most numerous of birds were the ruffed grouse, or prairie-hen
already described. They frequent roads, particularly in the morning,
perhaps to escape from the effects of dew, and with the aid of a gun, I
might have shot many hundreds of them without leaving the pathway. On
the skirts of the forest around Springfield, quails, or partridges as
they are called in the language of the country, are abundant, and so
tame, that they might have been killed with stones. Notwithstanding the
number of such birds, Illinois cannot boast of gamekeepers, and I only
observed one individual shooting grouse. Many cranes, swans, ducks, and
wild-geese, were seen hovering above the prairies, and on different
occasions I disturbed owls reposing amongst withered grass. The forests
abounded with green coloured paroquets, which fluttered about with a
disagreeable noise, in flocks of six or seven.
Deer were frequently seen bounding across the plain, and prairie wolves
skulking amongst the tall grass. The prairie wolf is a small animal, not
much larger than the fox of Britain, and whose habits are not widely
different. In forests on the banks of the river Illinois, grey coloured
squirrels were extremely numerous, and seemed actively engaged in
collecting nuts, with which the ground was strewed. Near Pekin I walked
a mile or two with a person returning from shooting squirrels, and who
bestowed four or five on a woman who asked them for a sick boy. In
Canada, the colour of the squirrel is red; in Michigan, black; and in
Illinois, grey. The gopher is a red-coloured quadruped, in size and
shape resembling the weasel of Britain. It burrows in the prairies,
forming passages, and throwing up earth like the mole. It subsists on
vegetables, and is sometimes a source of annoyance to the farmer. I was
told it is furnished with pouches for carrying earth from its
excavations.
The wild bee was the most numerous of insects, and crowded the few
remaining blossoms of the sunflower. They live in the hollows of
decaying trees, and a considerable quantity of their honey is collected
by the inhabitants. In the Canadas, the maple-tree supplies saccharine
matter, and in Illinois, where this species of plant is rare or unknown,
the bee forms the chief source of this commodity. Thus, the maple, bee,
and cane, contribute the same ingredient to man, and are illustrative of
the economy and diversity of nature.
The country from Chicago to Springfield, through which I passed, may be
termed prairie, the portion of forest land being quite inconsiderable.
In the immediate neighbourhood of these villages, the surface is nearly
level, and in the intermediate space, sufficiently undulating for
usefulness and beauty. The forest trees on the margins of the prairie
are of small size, and chiefly oak; those on bottom, or interval, land,
on the banks of rivers, are of immense size. Forests generally clothe
the banks of streams, but sometimes prairies descend to the water’s
edge, on both sides, and no general rule can be laid down for the
prevalence or want of timber. After crossing the river Des Plaines,
there was no indication of marsh or wetness of soil, and I only observed
one lake, of very small extent. Rocks were not seen protruding above the
surface, although stones of considerable size were observed on the
wayside. The beds of the rivers Des Plaines, Du Page, and Vermillion, at
the places where I crossed, were strewed with stones. The freestone
rock, seen in crossing the Illinois, and of which a considerable sized
island was composed, was observed for several miles below in the
channels of tributary streamlets. I examined seams of coal on the banks
of the river Sangamon, in the vicinity of Springfield. My view was
imperfect, as the seams had never been worked. They appeared about two
feet in thickness, of bituminous quality, and fifteen feet above the
level of the river. A contract was entered into at the time of my visit,
to furnish coal, by removing the incumbent earth, at three cents per
bushel.
The soil of this district embraces almost every description, from poor
sand to rich clay of strong texture. It is of all colours, and generally
of superior quality. The poorest soil was on the banks of the Sangamon,
the richest on those of the Illinois. The black sand, of which the
prairies are partly composed, seems of a penetrating nature, and adheres
to the skin like soot. Before being aware of this circumstance, I
marvelled at the filthy appearance of some of the inhabitants, who did
not wear stockings, and at evening I sometimes found my feet and ankles
coated with black dust, after having been washed half a dozen times, in
course of the day, in wading streams. The burning of the herbage
prevents the accumulation of vegetable matter on the soil, and the
creepingrooted grasses, with which it is occupied, perhaps exhaust
rather than enrich it. First crops are seldom too luxuriant, and land is
said to improve after the breaking up of the prairie.
Agriculture embraces the growth of wheat and Indian corn and the rearing
of live stock; but, from the limited number of inhabitants, the
cultivated fields form a mere speck on the surface of the prairie. The
wheat stubbles in the neighbourhood of Springfield betokened luxuriant
crops, and the height and thickness of Indian corn filled me with
amazement. At the date of my visit, 23d September, most of this crop had
been severed from the earth, and was standing in conical piles on the
field, where it remains during winter, or until such time as it is
wanted. There are many kinds of Indian corn, differing widely in habits
of growth, and I was unable to determine whether the uncommon luxuriance
of that in this district was owing to a particular variety, or
congeniality of soil and climate, but I supposed the latter.
The herbage of the prairie, consisting of strong-rooted grasses, is
difficult to plough for the first time, and is commonly accomplished
with the aid of six oxen. The first ploughing is sometimes performed by
contract at $2 per acre. The plough for breaking up the prairie is
furnished with a broad share, and cuts a turf seventeen or eighteen
inches broad, by two or three in depth. Indian corn is dropped into
every third furrow, a bushel being sufficient for ten acres, and covered
with the next cut turf. This crop receives no farther cultivation of any
kind, is termed sod corn, and said to yield fifty bushels per acre. A
wheat crop follows without a second ploughing, the soil being simply
harrowed, receiving half-a-bushel of seed, and yielding twenty-five
bushels per acre. When Indian corn is grown on land not newly broken up,
it is commonly planted on hills four feet square, and four seeds are
allowed to each hill. The grasses do not appear amongst sod corn, and
annual weeds are not often troublesome, until after four or five years’
cultivation.
I witnessed the process of seeding land with wheat, during my visit to
Mr Humphries. Four oxen were dragging a small harrow, driven by his son,
who left them standing while he sowed ridge by ridge, and he was the
only individual engaged in the operation. The previous crop had been
Indian corn, and the land had not been ploughed since its removal. Dung
is not applied to the fields, though sometimes to the gardens, in which
melons and potatoes are chiefly cultivated. At Springfield, the potato
of Britain is not of fine quality, and passes by the name of Irish
potato, to distinguish it from the sweet potato, a species of
_convolvolus_. These potatoes seem not to be suited to the same climate.
Here, and farther to the south, the sweet potato was of large size, and
more palatable than the Irish one, although not equal to this root when
grown in a colder region. I observed a few plants of Guinea corn, which
its cultivators said answered as a substitute for coffee, but none of
them seemed to have given it a trial.
Clovers, or any description of herbage plant, did not come under my
notice. The prairie grasses, when closely depastured for a series of
years, fall off, and are said ultimately to disappear. This circumstance
was a source of uneasiness to some settlers, who looked forward to the
time when there would be a scarcity of food for cattle, and which seemed
to me as irrational as the Canadian farmers’ fears of wanting firewood.
I did not see breeding-horses or sheep in any part of my journey,
although I have no doubt there are plenty of both in the country. The
cattle were not numerous, but of good size, and in tolerable condition.
The prairie herbage was so completely withered, that I could not form an
opinion of its feeding qualities in spring. What had been burned to
afford a fresh supply, was so closely cropt by the cattle, that its
reproductive properties could not be estimated. In some situations near
Springfield, where stock is pretty numerous, and the prairie has been
cropt by them for years, the herbage appeared thin and unnutritious.
Pigs were frequently seen running about the forest, and were, like all
others seen at large in course of my tour, perfect starvelings. The
acorn season had arrived, and I was amused at the pigs scrambling for
this fruit. They ran grunting from tree to tree, and the noise of a
falling acorn was the prelude to a race and fight.
The inhabitants are thinly scattered over the country, and chiefly
settled on the skirts of the forest, the middle of prairies being
altogether unoccupied, and I was told untaken-up land, or such as had
not been bought from government, existed within a mile of Springfield.
Proximity to forest is chosen for the facility of obtaining building,
fencing, and fuel timber; and a settler regards the distance of half a
mile from forest an intolerable burden. The dwelling-places are
log-houses, larger than those of Canada, and somewhat better finished.
Frequently a nail or piece of iron is not used in the whole erection,
the door is without lock or latch, and the beds in the cock-loft lighted
by chinks in the walls. In such places, the owners of hundreds of acres
and scores of cattle reside. How powerful is habit and fashion in all
things! Labour is scarce and highly remunerated. A good farming help
obtains $120, and an indifferent one $100 a-year, with bed and board. A
female help receives in private families a dollar a-week. The
hotel-keeper at Springfield pays two female helps each $2 weekly in
cash, and told me if it were not for a desire young girls have for fine
clothes, he could not get one on any terms. Board, at the hotel, with
bed, is $3 for short periods, and for long periods $2½ per week.
In the Springfield market, butter is worth eight cents per pound, and
eggs six cents per dozen. Beef, in small quantities, is worth three, and
pork two cents per pound, respectively, and much cheaper by the carcass.
Wheat sells for thirty-seven and a-half, oats eighteen, and Indian corn
ten cents per bushel. Good muscovado sugar costs ten, and coffee twenty
cents per pound.