_Journey from Springfield to St Louis—Jacksonville—Emigrant from
Edinburgh—Beds—Face of the Country—Alton—Mississippi—Luxuriant
vegetation—Bottoms—Mamelle Prairie—Mr Flint—St Charles—River
Missouri—Notices of Nature—Indian Antiquities—St Louis._
During my excursion from Chicago, I was fortunate in weather, which was
dry and moderately warm. The temperature increased on the day of my
arrival at Springfield, and became so hot on the following day, that I
resolved to wait for a mail stage to convey me to the Mississippi; I
accordingly left Springfield, about nine o’clock in the morning, in a
small stage, which reached Jacksonville about sunset. A very heavy
shower of rain fell soon after setting out, and covered the roads four
or five inches deep with water, the level surface and want of ditches
preventing its escape. The passengers dined by the way, and chiefly
consisted of clerical students, on their way to Jacksonville college.
From their conversation with each other, I learned they had lately been
engaged in teaching in different parts of the country, and felt much
anxiety about speeches they were soon to make, and which were already
written, and had been revised by friends. They were plain in dress and
in manner, bordering on what is called homespun in Britain; and they
sung most beautifully while in the coach.
Jacksonville contains about the same number of souls as Springfield, but
is superior in buildings, arrangement, and situation. Many of the houses
consist of brick, and the hotels are large and commodious. The country
in the neighbourhood is considered populous in this part of the world,
and has been settled for a considerable length of time. I was anxious to
see the farm of some Englishmen, whose skill I had heard extolled, but
want of time and light denied me this gratification.
I had been intrusted with a letter to a gentleman in the vicinity of
Jacksonville, who formerly resided near Edinburgh, and which I would
have delivered personally, had I not been informed, when approaching
Springfield, that he had lately moved from his first situation into the
territory of Arkansas. On this intelligence, I put the letter into the
post-office, and a few minutes afterwards learned, from unquestionable
authority, that my first intelligence was incorrect. Finding the stage
did not leave Jacksonville until two o’clock in the morning, I resolved
to visit the gentleman, who resided about three miles from the village.
The moon being nearly full, I had little difficulty in reaching his
dwelling. It was late before Mr L—— made his appearance, who happened to
be dining with Mr K——, but the interim passed pleasantly in the company
of Mrs L——, whom I had seen in East Lothian, and a sensible Irishman,
who had settled himself about a hundred miles higher up the Mississippi.
The house was a log erection of two apartments, and the family seemed to
possess every necessary of life. Want of light prevented me seeing the
farm, and forming an opinion of the prospects and circumstances of this
emigrant.
On returning to Jacksonville, I found some of the stage-passengers
partaking of coffee before setting out on the journey. The vehicle was
well filled, and contained a young married woman labouring under ague.
Some of the passengers were agreeable and communicative. We passed
through Carlton, dined at a solitary log-house, and reached Alton
sometime after nightfall. The hotel being crowded, there was difficulty
in accommodating the passengers, and I was asked to take half a bed. I
assented to this arrangement, but added I was a foreigner, and not
likely to make the most agreeable companion to a native, on which
account I would feel obliged to have, were it possible, a bed for
myself; the landlord indulged me. By following this policy, I invariably
obtained a whole bed in hotels, and it was only in the huts of the
remote parts of the country, where beds could not be obtained, that I
did not sleep alone.
The misrepresentations of American character, in connexion with beds,
are frequently met with in Britain, and of which the following anecdote,
related by one of my friends, may serve as an illustration. Two
Englishmen, travelling in a hired carriage, reached a lonely inn at a
late hour, to which they got admittance, and, after much solicitation,
at length each took possession of a bed. In a short time afterwards, the
driver wished to share one of the beds; an altercation ensued with the
first possessor, who reluctantly yielded, in preference to maintaining
his position by animal strength. However much the brutality of the
driver may appear to be set forth in this anecdote, the traveller was
the more culpable of the two. In such a climate as that of the United
States, where people can move from place to place in carriages of any
description, every body will prefer the whole of a bed to a part, and
the circumstance of the driver wishing to lie down beside the
Englishman, is evidence that a third bed could not be obtained. In all
probability, the customs of the district and sentiments of the driver,
placed both individuals on a footing of equality, and it was
unreasonable to attempt to exclude him from a share of comfort, and more
especially if the family put themselves to inconvenience in furnishing
the beds. If the Englishman disliked nestling with the driver, he might
have crept in beside his friend, or quietly betaken himself to the
floor. I remember arriving at a large and well-conducted inn at Melrose,
Scotland, on the evening preceding an annual lamb market, and learned
that on such occasions travellers could only have half a bed. In course
of the evening, the waiter whispered that my companion wished to retire
for the night, and pointed him out on the opposite side of the table. He
was a profligate and well-known character, and nearly intoxicated to
insensibility. To have shared his bed was an idea revolting to my
feelings, and, after requesting that he might be shown to a room, I
stretched myself on chairs for the night.
The two foreign gentlemen, in whose company I travelled from Detroit to
Chicago, carried along with them a bed tick of air-tight cloth, which
was occasionally filled, and reposed on by one of them. This is a very
portable bed, and will be found agreeable to travellers frequenting the
wilds of America, who do not dislike being encumbered with luggage. A
robust person who dreads such accommodation as the country affords, will
do very well with the aid of a cloak to wrap himself in during the
night.
The country from Springfield to Alton, by way of Jacksonville, is a
succession of prairies of a different character from those formerly
seen, their surface being almost perfectly level, and in many parts
indicating wetness. The soil did not always appear rich, more especially
towards the conclusion of the journey. Darkness prevented me seeing much
of the country around Jacksonville, but I saw a small patch of clover,
which was the only instance I observed this plant in Michigan, Indiana,
Illinois, and Missouri.
Alton stands on the east bank of the Mississippi, about one mile above
the junction of the Missouri, and sixteen below that of the Illinois. It
consists of two irregular villages, called Upper and Lower Alton; the
population is stated at about 700 souls. This place is likely to become
the chief port of Illinois on the Mississippi, and is already the seat
of considerable trade.
On leaving my bedroom, on the morning after arriving at Alton, the
Mississippi was seen flowing before me at a few yards’ distance, and my
first proceeding was to fetch part of its water in a jug for morning
ablution, the number of travellers in the house rendering some exertion
necessary to get washed and shaved in time for breakfast. On leaving the
hotel, I walked down to the junction of the Missouri, and returned to
Alton, where I crossed the Mississippi in a horse ferry-boat. The stream
is more than a mile in breadth, flows at the rate of one or two miles an
hour, and is slightly turbid. The situation of Alton, from the opposite
side of the ferry, is beautiful. An island divides the river, which,
being land-locked above and below, has the appearance of a lake. The
western bank is low, the eastern high and rocky, terminated by wood on
the summits of the bluffs, as the projecting knolls or hills on the
banks of some American rivers are called. The rocks are partly sand and
partly limestone.
Here I observed a steam grist-mill; the under part of the building was
composed of stone, as high as the water of the river would reach in
floods, the upper part being of wood. The building was founded on rock,
and stones might have been had for the upper stories, by laying a plank
from the building to the rock on the rising bank.
The purpose of my present excursion was to view the prairie in the
neighbourhood of St Charles, at the foot of the Mamelles, so beautifully
described by Mr Flint, whose account is given as a quotation in Mr
Stuart’s “Three Years’ Residence in America.” The description excited my
imagination at the time of first reading it, and was imprinted on my
memory till effaced by seeing the object before me. St Charles is about
twenty-six miles from Alton, and as there was no regular conveyance
between the places, I did not regret the necessity of walking, which
would afford me an opportunity of traversing the narrow neck of land,
separating two of the largest rivers before their junction in the most
fertile and extensive valley on earth, as well as of examining the
modern paradise of my imagination.
The road from Alton to St Charles passes up the west bank of the
Mississippi for above a mile, and for ten or twelve through its densely
wooded bottoms, at no great distance from the river before the prairie
is reached. On attaining the opposite side of the ferry, the exuberant
and varied vegetation excited my admiration, and far surpassed every
thing I had seen on the banks of the Illinois and its tributaries. The
height and circumference of the trees are immense, and such was the
rankness of vegetation, that I culled several leaves from young shoots
of the button-wood two feet in length. The climbing plants were in
proportion to the rest of the vegetable family, reaching the summits of
the most gigantic trees; sometimes three species were clinging to the
same trunk, and seemed vying with each other in richness and beauty. The
vines particularly attracted my notice. This plant is common in most
parts of North America, and its foliage is beautiful in the
neighbourhood of Montreal. Here the stem of the vine was occasionally
seen nearly a foot in diameter, issuing from the earth twenty or thirty
feet from the root of the tree which supported its branches, and
stretching seventy or eighty feet before coming in contact with the
trunk, forming, together with its supporter, a striking representation
of a massy flag-staff. I had difficulty in accounting for the form which
the vine presented. Both plants may be considered coeval, and their
boughs to have extended in unison. Some tender twigs of a vine were
observed climbing and twining around its aged stems, leading to the
supporting tree, which seemed to me illustrative of maternal affection,
and of the hackneyed phrase, “teaching the young idea how to shoot.”
There were some trees of diminutive growth overhanging the river, from
the tops of which the tendrils of the vine hung in graceful festoons, as
if wooing the water. From such I collected fruit, and discriminated
several varieties by the form and flavour of the grape.
At first the clear and wide-spreading prairies delighted me from their
novelty, and the contrast with the dense and interminable forests of
Upper Canada, and I now enjoyed the umbrageous vegetation of the
Mississippi bottom, after having become familiar with the nakedness of
the prairie. All the rivers of magnitude in the valley of the
Mississippi seem to have occupied, at a remote period, higher elevations
and wider channels than they now do, called first and second banks, and
the flat space on the margins of their present channels passes by the
name of bottom, which generally consists of alluvial depositions,
annually augmented by the overflowing of the waters at the melting of
the snow. This bottom of the Mississippi was undescribably rich, and I
was so engrossed by the wonders of its shadowy vegetation, as to be
insensible of the approach of rain and thunder, until torrents fell
around me. Shelter was obtained from the inclining trunk of a large
tree, and the foliage of many of the climbing plants formed vegetable
umbrellas.
The soil of the bottom is of considerable tenacity, and the rain
rendered it unpleasant and fatiguing to walk on. The road diverged from
the river at an uninhabited brick house, and I did not see a human being
for eight or ten miles. Some of the houses seemed to have been deserted,
and no recent settlement made. In one situation there was a large and
well-grown orchard, from which I gathered most excellent apples. There
were few traces of cultivation, and Indian corn was the only
agricultural production on the soil. Weeds, which in other situations
were observed of diminutive size, here attained magnitude, and I
estimated the height of some Indian corn at twenty feet; amongst this
crop purple coloured convolvuluses were twining, the seeds of which were
added to my collection. On examining some wheat ricks, I found the straw
covered with mildew, and the grain shrivelled skins. Fertile as the
Mississippi bottom appeared, it bore no traces of human enjoyment.
On entering the prairie, which is elevated a little above the bottom
land, two lines of road diverge, and I was directed on that leading to
St Charles, by two men of colour chopping firewood in front of a house,
who, in all probability, were the first slaves I had ever seen, Missouri
being a state in which slavery is tolerated, and in which I had
travelled since crossing the Mississippi. My way, for a considerable
distance, was over a waxy soil covered with water, the road being
bounded with tall grass, over which I could not see. On attaining a
higher elevation, the rank grass disappeared, the soil became dry, and
for miles was of poorer quality than any I had seen since leaving the
shores of Lake Michigan. The soil, which was worn into inequalities by
the action of wind and travellers, was repeatedly examined, and the
opinion which I formed was corroborated by the thriftless and stunted
vegetation on its surface. On leaving the bottom there were some spots
covered with clover, and the finer descriptions of grass, closely
cropped by cattle, which formed the only verdant pasturage I had met
with since leaving Amherstburgh in Canada. My progress over the wet
roads had been slow, and I felt fatigued and hungry. On applying for
bread at a log-house, the inmates cheerfully offered to prepare some for
me, but I departed after quaffing a glass of water. The soil improved,
without becoming very rich. Some people were engaged in sowing wheat,
and several herds of cattle were observed. On the left-hand side of the
road there was a narrow and extensive sheet of water, covered with weeds
and waterfowl, and seemingly connected with the Missouri. Light
disappeared before I reached St Charles, and several miles were
traversed in darkness.
I did ample justice to the viands set before me at St Charles, sitting
at table with the landlord and his wife, and tended by a female slave,
who was addressed by all in terms of civility. The landlord was a
Virginian, and had lately commenced hotel-keeping at St Charles, in
consequence of having been unfortunate in another calling in the place
of his birth. I found him kind and gentlemanly in manner, and
communicative and intelligent on a variety of subjects. He presented me
with a glass of wine, as made from the grape of the country, and which I
considered good.
In course of conversation I learned the landlord intended going to St
Louis next day, immediately after breakfast, and he agreed to give me a
seat in his waggon on the same terms as the regular conveyances carried
passengers. Before going to bed, it was arranged that I should visit the
Mamelles in the morning, and at daybreak I found a horse waiting for me,
which proceeded over the ground at a rapid pace. The road leading from
St Charles to the prairie passes through a rich and beautiful country,
something like a narrow valley, with swelling heights to the west, the
opposite side forming good farms. I followed a diverging pathway leading
up the ascent, and soon found myself on the brow of an eminence,
commanding an extensive view of the prairie, over which I had travelled
the preceding evening. The scene was so different from the conceptions I
had formed of it, that I fancied myself occupying a wrong position, and
seeing a cottage on the plain below, I descended to ascertain the point.
On asking for the Mamelles, a person pointed to a bluff a few hundred
yards distant, forming the termination of the ridge I had just left, and
considerably more to the east than the spot where I had been. Leaving my
horse attached to a railing in front of the cottage, into which I was
invited, I ascended the Mamelle on foot, from the top of which the scene
was unvaried from that I had seen before, with exception of the addition
of part of the small valley running towards St Charles, and which seemed
the most interesting part of the landscape. Strong indications exist of
the Missouri and Mississippi having once united their waters at this
spot; and if such was the case, the prairie must then have formed the
bottom of a lake, and become dry when the rivers assumed a lower level.
The prairie is bounded to the west by the ridge of bluffs, of which the
Mamelles form a part; and to the east by the forest on the Missouri and
Mississippi bottoms. On the north the Mississippi curves gracefully
round the margin, and its bold eastern bank forms a beautiful outline.
The centre is monotonously flat; and at no great distance from where I
stood were two insignificant clumps of stunted trees, which afforded no
relief to the eye, and excited ideas of sterility. Excluding the pretty
valley stretching towards St Charles, and which cannot with propriety be
considered as forming part of the prairie, half-a-dozen of hamlets could
not be numbered, and there was a total absence of animated life. The
rich blossoms of the various plants which impart delight to a lover of
nature, had yielded to the influence of the season, and autumn had
seared vegetation. The long narrow stripe of stagnant water which I had
skirted the night before was a conspicuous feature, and suggested ague
and pestilence. The view from the Mamelle was found to be extensive, but
not pleasing; and, hurrying from my elevated position, I scampered off
for St Charles.
Mr Flint, in speaking of this prairie, says, “It yields generally forty
bushels of wheat, and seventy of corn, to the acre. _The vegetable soil
has a depth of forty feet, and earth thrown from the bottom of the wells
is as fertile as that on the surface. Here are 100,000 acres of land of
this description fit for the plough._”
I am of opinion there is not a square inch of such soil as Mr Flint
describes. But in differing with him on the merits of this prairie, I
must not forget that the impressions of a scene are always affected by
the circumstances under which it is viewed, both with regard to nature
and the individual himself. The weather was unfavourable at the time of
my visit, which was on the 1st of October. Thick clouds obscured the
sky, and were scudding before a cold and tempestuous west wind. The
ground was drenched by rain which had fallen in course of the evening,
and strewed with leaves and branches torn from the trees by the violence
of the storm. Personal circumstances were more favourable than those of
the weather for forming a just estimate. Having already traversed part
of Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois, the novelty and excitement at my
first introduction to prairie scenery had subsided. I enjoyed the
highest degree of mental and bodily vigour, was at peace with the world,
and favourably predisposed towards the object. Mr Flint was differently
situated. But perhaps an American poet and a Scottish clodpole will ever
view things through a different medium. The means which I had of forming
an estimate of this prairie were ample, and the simple fact of it being
still almost uninhabited, while thousands of settlers have passed over
it to more distant locations, may be taken as proof that my estimate is
substantially just. Having spoken of Mr Flint as a poet, it is but
justice for me to say I have alone formed my opinion of his endowments
from the account he has given of this prairie, which seems to have been
written with poetic license. “The prairie itself,” he says, “was a most
glorious spectacle,—such a sea of verdure, in one direction, extending
beyond the reach of the eye, and presenting millions of flowers of every
scent and hue, seemed an immense flower-garden.” This is a description
of a prairie, in lat. 39, in the month of September, when the luxuriance
and brilliancy of vegetation is past. But it was “the first prairie of
any great size or beauty” he had seen. To me, who had already become
acquainted with the fertility of such places, and formed opinions of
their utility in relation to civilized man, the scene was associated
with the disease and destruction of the human race, and not their
enjoyment and support.
Had the season of the year and state of the weather been more favourable
for viewing this prairie, I might have admired its beautiful outlines;
but under no circumstances would it have possessed the interest of the
landscape seen from the heights above Ottawa on the river Illinois. Here
extensive prairies are seen stretching on every hand, with beautiful
undulating surfaces, and adorned with masses of forest of every shape
and size. The junction of the Fox River with the Illinois is in the
foreground, and their banks are either forest or prairie, in keeping
with the surrounding surface. Both rivers are of moderate size, and the
flowing of their limpid waters imparts life to the landscape, which
combines all the soft beauties of prairie scenery, and excites
associations connected with human happiness. Settlers are yearly taking
up their residence in this quarter, and the junction of the Illinois
with Lake Michigan, by means of a railway or canal, which the state has
undertaken to construct, will insure its early settlement.
St Charles is one of the many places in the Western States, founded by
the French, which they partially explored in the early part of the
eighteenth century; and the descendants of the first settlers are still
met with throughout the course of the St Lawrence and the valley of the
Mississippi, possessing the language, manners, and customs of their
forefathers. The population is stated to be above 1200, and to consist
of nearly equal numbers of Americans and descendants of the French. It
is washed by the Missouri, and has increased considerably in wealth and
population of late years.
Immediately after breakfast the landlord of the hotel, whose name has
escaped my memory, conducted me over the rocky banks of the river to the
horse ferry-boat, on board of which was his waggon and handsome pair of
horses. The boat proceeded up the north bank for nearly a mile before
crossing the stream, and the horses by which it was propelled were
considerably distressed, and generally blind and in low condition. The
Missouri possesses a different character from any river I had seen
before. Here its breadth is about half a mile, the waters running
impetuously between wooded banks, and so turbid as to exceed in
muddiness the water of British streams after the most copious rains. The
islands and banks seem to be constantly changing, and strewed with
fallen trees, having their tops in the stream, and their roots on land.
The water of the Missouri is said to undergo little change in
consistency or colour, which is whitish, except during severe frost,
when it contains less mud. The state of the waters of the Missouri is
thought to be owing to the washing away of the banks, and it is
difficult to account for it on other grounds. The course of the river
before reaching St Charles is not much short of 3000 miles, and I have
not been able to learn the state of the waters towards its source, or
that of its tributaries at the places of junction.
On reaching the opposite side of the Missouri, we travelled over two
miles of bottom resembling that of the Mississippi opposite to Alton,
but not quite equalling it in vegetable luxuriance. The surface was wet
from the rain that had fallen, and the only inhabitant seen was so
feeble and emaciated, that his life was likely to be of short duration.
On passing the bottom, we had about twelve miles of highly-undulating
surface, consisting of red-coloured clay, of fertile quality, thinly
wooded, and partially settled. For nearly six miles, before reaching St
Louis, the road passes through a prairie country of undulating red clay,
and apparently speedily getting into forest. The landlord told me he had
visited this district many years before, which was then without a tree.
There is a race-course within three miles of St Louis, which appears
well frequented.
I had hitherto observed the vine growing chiefly by the sides of lakes
and rivers, but here it was growing on the highest and most elevated
situations, loaded with fruit. The prevailing tree on the partially
wooded part of the road was oak. I first observed the catalpa-tree in
the streets of St Charles, and the persimon, in travelling to St Louis.
This fruit was disagreeable to my palate, and did not improve on a
second trial some days afterwards.
Throughout my tour in the States of New England and Upper Canada, I had
found the soil of all districts where the surface was considerably
undulating, uniformly of inferior quality. Michigan presented the same
appearance, and on a few of the prairies I fancied I could trace the
same feature. I had considered the subject on different occasions, and
began to draw a general conclusion, which this day’s experience
completely upset. Here the surface was one of the most undulating I had
travelled over, and uniformly of fertile clay. I afterwards found some
of the swelling grounds of Ohio of this character.
We met and conversed with the members of several families moving into
Missouri, with the view of settling in the remote parts of the state;
and I met one before crossing the Mississippi, on his return from it, in
consequence, he said, of its unhealthiness. Local attachments seem to be
the sheetanchor of man, and when they are once broken, or exist weakly,
he becomes restless, and unhesitatingly follows any ignis fatuus that
may dance before his imagination. From this source the erratic habits of
the American population may perhaps arise, as well as many of their
peculiarities of manners and customs. But without pursuing this subject
into its various ramifications, I may remark that the temporary houses,
fences, and generally uncomfortable nature of a Western American
farmer’s establishment, may be the result of constantly looking forward
to departing from his residence, and seeking to have little property but
what can be easily transported.
On reaching St Louis, I found the hotels crowded; my first two
applications for accommodation being unsuccessful, I at last gained
admittance into a secondary hotel, to which I was recommended by the
landlord from St Charles. I slept in an apartment containing two beds,
which were occupied, and the arrangements and customs of the hotel were
similar to those I had hitherto frequented. Two days were spent in St
Louis and its neighbourhood, on both of which I examined some mounds, or
tumuli, of a former race of people, some of which are on the north
skirts of St Louis, and many more on the opposite side of the river.
These mounds are found over the whole of the valley of the Mississippi,
and many conjectures exist regarding their origin. They are found of all
sizes and shapes, from the finished pyramid to the perpendicular square,
a few feet in height. Soon after my arrival at St Louis, I found one in
the town, of an oblong shape, fifty yards in length, and finished with a
regular pitch of about forty feet in perpendicular height, while
another, at a short distance, with sloping sides, had an unfinished top
thirty-four by forty-four yards. Some tumuli have been examined, and
found to contain immense quantities of human bones and broken pottery,
which has given rise to a general opinion that they were the
burying-places of former ages. Besides tumuli there are other
antiquities of forts, camps, or towns, the best specimens of which are
in Ohio; and a fort in the neighbourhood of Newark, in that state,
contains forty acres within its walls, which are about ten feet high.
The Indians of the present day in the northern and middle parts of the
valley of the Mississippi, are neither sufficiently numerous nor skilful
to erect such works, from which some people argue the antiquities
belonged to a different race, which preceded the Indians. It is of no
consequence to the existing portion of the human race by what beings
these remains were erected; and the grounds for believing the Indians to
have decreased in numbers, and retrograded in civilisation, are much
stronger than those for conjecturing them to have been preceded by a
distinct and more skilful people.
St Louis stands on the west bank of the Mississippi, 1200 miles above
its junction with the sea, 200 above the confluence of the river Ohio,
and 18 miles below that of the Missouri. Its situation is sufficiently
elevated above the river, the banks of which are limestone. There is a
row of stores fronting the river, built of stone, and the town consists
chiefly of two streets of brick-houses, running parallel to the river,
the outskirts being mean wooden houses. This is a place of extensive
trade, being the chief depôt of lead, which is furnished in vast
quantities by the states of Illinois and Missouri. Grist-mills and other
machinery are propelled by steam. I counted sixteen steam-boats on the
river, exclusive of one plying as a ferry-boat.
The city was founded by the French in 1764, and about one-third of the
inhabitants are their descendants. The American population now
preponderates, but there are numbers of all nations, including many
Spaniards. It is the chief place of wealth and trade on the Mississippi,
with exception of New Orleans, and may justly be considered the
metropolis of the valley of the Mississippi.
I visited the market night and morning, which was abundantly supplied
with every necessary, brought forward by farmers from all parts of the
country, and not retailed by stall-keepers. Many well-dressed white
ladies, and blacks of both sexes, carried baskets over their arms, and
were making purchases, but I did not observe a white gentleman. Here I
first saw the egg-plant. For hen eggs 9½d. a-dozen, and for skinned
squirrels 1½d. each, sterling money, was asked.