Chapter 12411629

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Chapter NumberVOLUME II:V
Chapter TitleA JAUNT TO THE LOOKING-GLASS PRAIRIE AND BACK.
Chapter Urlhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article12411629
Full Date1843-05-26
Page Number4
Corrections1
Word Count3379
IllustratedN
Last Corrected2010-07-06
Newspaper TitleThe Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 - 1954)
Trove TitleAmerican Notes for General Circulation
article text

CHAPTER V.

A JAUNT TO THE LOOKING-GLASS PRAIRIE

AND BACK.

I MAY premise that the word prairie is variously pronounced paraaer, parearer; and parourer. The latter mode of pro- nunciation is perhaps the most in favour.

We were fourteen in all, and all young men ; indeed it is a singular though very natural feature in the society of these distant settlements, that it is mainly com- posed of adventurous persons in the prime of life, and has very few grey heads among it. There were no ladies, the trip being a fatiguing one, and we were to start at five o'clock in the morning, punctually.

I was called at four, that I might be certain of keeping nobody waiting ; and having got some bread and milk for break- fast, threw up the window and looked down into the street, expecting to see the whole party busily astir, and great prepa- rations going on below. But as everything was very quiet, and the street presented that hopeless aspect with which five o'clock in the morning is familiar else- where, I deemed it as well to go to bed again, and went accordingly.

I woke again at seven o'clock, and by that time the party had assembled, and were gathering round one light carriage, with a very stout axle-tree ; one something on wheels like an amateur carrier's cart ; one double phaeton of great antiquity and unearthly construction; one gig with a great hole in its back and a broken head ; and one rider on horseback who was to go on before. I got into the first coach with three companies ; the rest bestowed them- selves in the other vehicles ; two large baskets were made fast to the lightest ; two large stone jars in wicker cases, tech-   nically known as demi-johns, were con- signed to the "least rowdy" of the party for safe keeping ; and the procession moved off to the ferry-boat, in which it was to cross the river bodily, men, horses, carriages, and all, as the manner in these parts is.

We get over the river in due course, and mustered again before a little wooden box on wheels, hove down all aslant in a morass, with " MERCHANT TAILOR" painted in very large letters over the door. Having settled the order of proceeding, and the road to be taken, we started off once more, and began to make our way through an ill-favoured Black Hollow, called, less expressively, the American

Bottom.

The previous day had been, not to say hot, for the term is weak and lukewarm in its power of conveying an idea of the tem- perature. The town had been on fire ; in a blaze. But at night it had come on to rain in torrents, and all night long

it had rained without cessation. We had a pair of very strong horses, but

travelled at the rate of little more than a

couple of miles an hour, through one un- broken slough of black mud and water. It had no variety but in depth. Now it was only half over the wheels, now it hid the axletree, and now the coach sank down in it almost to the windows. The air re- sounded in all directions with the loud

chirping of the frogs, who, with the pigs (a coarse, ugly breed, as unwholesome   looking as though they were the sponta- neous growth of the country) had the whole scene to themselves. Here and there we passed a log hut ; but the   wretched cabins were wide apart and thinly scattered, for though the soil is very rich in this place, few people can exist in such a deadly atmosphere. On either side of the track, if it deserve the name, was the thick bush ; and everywhere was stagnant, slimy, rotten, filthy water.

As it is the custom in these parts to give a horse a gallon or so of cold water whenever he is in a foam with heat, we halted for that purpose, at a log inn in the wood, far removed from any other residence. It consisted of one room, bare-roofed and bare-walled, of course, with a loft above. The ministering priest was a swarthy young savage, in a shirt of cotton print like bed-furniture, and a pair of rugged trousers. There   were a couple of young boys too, nearly naked, lying idly by the well ; and they  

and he, and the traveller at the inn, turned  

out to look at us.

The traveller was an old man, with a grey gristly beard two inches long, a shaggy moustache of the same hue, and enormous eyebrows, which almost ob- scured his lazy semi-drunken glance, as he stood regarding us with folded arms ; poising himself alternately upon his toes and heels. On being addressed by one of the party, he drew nearer, and said, rub- bing his chin (which scraped under his horney hand like fresh gravel beneath a a nailed shoe), that he was from Delaware, and had lately bought a farm "down there," pointing into one of the marshes where the

stunted trees were thickest. He was

"going," he added, to St. Louis, to fetch his family, whom he had left behind ; but he seemed in no great hurry to bring on these encumbrances, for when we moved away, he loitered back into the cabin, and was plainly bent on stopping there so long as his money lasted. He was a great politician of course, and explained his opinions at some length to one of our com- pany ; but I only remember that he con-

cluded with two sentiments, one of which was, Somebody for ever ! and the other Blast everybody else, which is by no means a bad abstract of the general creed in these

matters.

When the horses were swollen out to about twice their natural dimensions (there seems to be an idea here, that this kind of inflation improves their going), we went forward again, through mud and mire, and damp, and festering heat, and brake and bush, attended always by the music of the frogs and pigs, until nearly noon, when we hailed at a place called Belleville.

Belleville was a small collection of wooden houses, huddled together in the very heart of the bush and swamp. Many of them had singularly bright doors of red and yellow ; for the place had been lately visited by a travelling painter, " who got along," as I was told, " by eating his way." The criminal court was sitting, and was at that moment trying some criminals for horse stealing : with whom it would most likely go hard : for live stock of all kinds being necessarily very much exposed in the woods, is held by the community in rather higher value than human life ; and for this reason, juries generally make a point of finding all men indicted for cattle stealing, guilty, whether or no.

The horses belonging to the bar, the judge, and witnesses, were tied to tempo- rary racks set up roughly in the road ; by which it is to be understood, a forest path, nearly knee deep in mud and slime.

There was an hotel in this place which, like all hotels in America, had its large dining-room for the public table. It was an odd, shambling, low-roofed out- house, half-cowshed, and half-kitchen, with a coarse brown canvas table-cloth, and

tin sconces stuck against the walls, to hold candles at supper-time. The horseman had gone forward to have coffee and some eatables prepared, and they were by this time nearly ready. He had ordered "wheat-bread and chicken fixings," in preference to corn-bread and common doings." The latter kind of refection, includes only pork and bacon. The former comprehends broiled ham, sausages, veal cutlets, steaks, and such other viands of that nature as

may be supposed, by a tolerably wide poetical construction, to " fix" a chicken comfortably in the digestive organs of any lady or gentleman.

On one of the door-posts at this inn, was a tin plate, whereon was inscribed in cha- racters of gold " Doctor Crocus ;" and on a sheet of paper, pasted up by the side of this plate, was a written announcement that Dr. Crocus would that evening deliver a lecture on Phrenology, for the benefit of the Belleville public ; at a charge for

admission of so much a head.

Straying up stairs, during the prepa-

ration of the chicken fixings, I happened   to pass the Doctor's chamber ; and as the door stood wide open, and the room was empty, I made bold to peep in.

It was a bare, unfurnished, comfortless room, with an unframed portrait hanging up at the head of the bed ; a likeness I take it, of the Doctor, for the forehead was fully displayed, and great stress was laid by the artist upon its phrenological developments. The bed itself was covered with an old patchwork counterpane. The room was destitute of carpet or of curtain. There was a damp fire-place without any stove, full of wood ashes ; a chair, and a very small table ; and on the last named piece of furniture was displayed, in grand array, the doctor's library, consisting of some half dozen greasy old books.

Now, it certainly looked about the last apartment on the whole earth out of which any man would be likely to get anything to do him good. But the door, as I have said, stood coaxingly open, and plainly said in conjunction with the chair, the portrait, the table, and the books, "Walk in, gen- tlemen, walk in ! Don't be ill, gentlemen, when you may be well in no time. Doctor Crocus is here, gentlemen, the celebrated Doctor Crocus ! Doctor Crocus has come all this way to cure you, gentlemen. If you haven't heard of Doctor Crocus, it's your fault, gentlemen, who live a little way

out of the world here : not Doctor Crocus's. Walk in, gentlemen, walk in !"

In the passage below, when I went down stairs again was Doctor Crocus him- self. A crowd had flocked in from the Court House, and a voice from among them all called out to the landlord, " Co- lonel ! introduce Doctor Crocus."

" Mr. Dickens," says the colonel,

" Doctor Crocus."

Upon which Dr. Crocus, who is a tall, fine-looking Scotchman, but rather fierce and warlike in appearance for a professor of the peaceful art of healing, bursts out of the concourse with his right arm ex- tended, and his chest thrown out as far as it will possibly come, and says :

" Your countryman, sir !"

Whereupon Doctor Crocus and I shake hands ; and Doctor Crocus looks as if I didn't by any means realize his expecta- tions, which, in a linen blouse, and a great straw hat with a green ribbon, and no gloves, and my face and nose profusely ornamented with the stings of mosquitoes and the bites of bugs, it is very likely I

did not.

" Long in these parts, sir ?" says I. " Three or four months, sir," says the

Doctor.

" Do you think of soon returning to the old country, sir?" says I.

Doctor Crocus makes no verbal answer, but gives me an imploring look, which says so plainly " Will you ask me that again ? A little louder if you please ?" that I re- peat the question.

"Think of soon returning to the old country, sir ?" repeats the Doctor.

" To the old country, sir," I rejoin.

Doctor Crocus looks round upon the crowd to observe the effect he produces, rubs his hands, and says in a very loud

voice :

" Not yet a while, sir, not yet. You won't catch me at that just yet, sir. I am a little to fond of freedom for that, sir. Ha, ha ! Its not so easy for a man to tear himself from a free country such as this is, sir. Ha, ha ! No, no ! Ha, ha ? None of that till one's obliged to do it,

sir. No, no !"

As Doctor Crocus says these latter words he shakes his head knowingly, and laughs again. Many of the bye-standers shake their heads in concert with the doctor, and laugh too, and look at each other as much as to say, a pretty bright and first rate sort of chap is Crocus !" and unless I am very much mistaken, a good many people went to the lecture that night, who never thought about Phrenology; or about Doctor Crocus either, in all their lives before.

From Belleville, we went on, through the same desolate kind of waste, and con- stantly attended, without the interval of a moment, by the same music ; until, at three o'clock in the afternoon, we halted once more at a village called Lebanon to inflate the horses again, and give them some corn besides : of which they stood much in need. Pending this ceremony, I walked into the village, where I met a full-sized dwelling-house coming down-hill at a round trot, drawn by a score or more  

of oxen.

The public-house was so very clean and good a one, that the managers of the jaunt resolved to return to it and put up there for the night, if possible. This course decided on, and the horses being well re- freshed, we again pushed forward, and came upon the Prairie at sunset.

It would be difficult to say why, or how —though it was possible from having

heard and read so much about it—but the

effect on me was disappointment. Look- ing towards the setting sun, there lay, stretched out before my view, a vast ex- panse of level ground ; unbroken, save by one thin line of trees, which scarcely amounted to a scratch upon the great blank ; until it met the glowing sky, wherein it seemed to dip : mingling with its rich colours, and mellow- ing in its distant blue. There it lay, a tranquil sea or lake without water, if such a simile be admissible, with the day going down upon it : a few birds wheeling here and there : and solitude and silence reign- ing paramount around. But the grass was not yet high ; there were bare black patches on the ground ; and the few wild flowers that the eye could see, were poor and scanty. Great as the picture was, its very flatness and extent, which left nothing to the imagination, tamed it down and cramped its interest. I felt little of that

sense of freedom and exhilaration which a Scottish heath inspires, or even our En- glish downs awaken. It was lonely and wild, but oppressive in its barren mono- tony. I felt that in traversing the Prairies I could never abandon myself to the scene, forgetful of all else; as I should do in- stinctively, were the heather underneath my feet, or an iron-bound coast beyond ;

but should often glance towards the dis- tant and frequently-receding line of the horizon, and wish it gained and passed. It is not a scene to be forgotten, but it is scarcely one, I think (at all events, as I saw it) to remember with much pleasure, or to covet the looking-on again, in after

life.

We encamped near a solitary log-house, for the sake of its water, and dined upon the plain. The baskets contained roast fowls, buffalo's tongue, (an exquisite dainty, by the way), ham, bread, cheese, and butter ; biscuits, champagne, sherry ; lemons and sugar for punch ; and abun- dance of rough ice. The meal was deli- cious, and the entertainers were the soul of kindness and good humour. I have often recalled that cheerful party to my pleasant recollection since, and shall not easily forget, in junketings nearer home with friends of older date, my boon com- panions on the Prairie.

Returning to Lebanon that night, we lay at the little inn at which we had halted in

the afternoon. In point of cleanliness and comfort it would have suffered by no com- parison with any village alehouse, of a homely kind, in England.

Rising at five o'clock next morning, I took a walk about the village ; none of the houses were strolling about to-day, but it was early for them yet, perhaps ; and then amused myself by lounging in a kind of farm-yard behind the tavern, of which the leading features were, a strange jumble of rough sheds for stables : a rude colonnade built as a cool place of summer resort ; a deep well ; a great earthern mound for keeping vegetables in winter time ; and a pigeon - house, whose little apertures looked, as they do in all pigeon houses, very much too small for the ad- mission of the plump and swelling-breasted birds who were strutting about it, though they tried to get in never so hard. That interest exhausted, I took a survey of the inn's two parlours, which were decorated with coloured prints of Washington, and President Madison, and of a white-faced young lady (much speckled by the flies), who held up her gold neck-chain for the admiration of the spectator, and informed all admiring comers that she was "just seventeen:" although I should have thought her older. In the best room were two oil portraits of the Kitcat size, repre- senting the landlord and his infant son ; both looking as bold as lions, and staring out of the canvas with an intensity that would have been cheap at any price. They were painted, I think, by the artist who had touched up the Belleville doors with red and gold ; for I seemed to recognise his style immediately.

After breakfast, we started to return by a different way from that which we had taken yesterday, and coming up at ten o'clock with an encampment of German emigrants carrying their goods in carts, who had made a rousing fire which they were just quitting, stopped there to refresh. And very pleasant the fire was ; for, hot though it had been yesterday, it was quite cold to-day, and the wind blew keenly. Looming in the distance, as we rode along, was another of the ancient Indian burial-places, called the Monks' Mound ; in memory of a body of fanatics of the order of La Trappe, who founded a desolate convent there, many years ago, when there were no settlers within a thousand miles, and were all swept off by the pernicious climate : in which lamentable fatality few rational people will suppose, perhaps, that society experienced any severe deprivation.

The track of to-day had the same fea- tures as the track of yesterday. There was the swamp, the bush, the perpetual chorus of frogs, the rank unseemly growth, the unwholesome steaming earth. Here and there, and frequently too, we encoun- tered a solitary broken down waggon, full of some new settler's goods. It was a pitiful sight to see one of these vehicles deep in the mire ; the axletree broken ; a wheel lying idly by its side ; the man gone miles away, to look for assistance : the wo- man seated among their wandering house- hold gods, with a baby at her breast, a pic- ture of forlorn, dejected patience ; the team of oxen crouching down mournfully in the mud, and breathing forth such clouds of vapour from their mouths and nostrils, that all the damp mist and fog around seemed to have come direct from them.

In due time we mustered once again before the merchant tailor's, and having done so, crossed over to the city in the ferry-boat passing, on the way, a spot called Bloody Island, the duelling-ground of St. Louis, and so designated in honour of the last fatal combat fought there which was with pistols breast to breast. Both combatants fell dead upon the ground; and possibly some rational people may think of them, as of the gloomy madmen on the Monk's Mound, that they were no great loss to the community.