ILLINOIS AND THE LAKES.
Lead mines—Indian treaty—Ride to Chicago—Vast prairies—The stricken family—Amusing Adventures—Chicago—Milwaukie—Mackinaw—Indian encampment.
We spent one day during the present week in passing through the mining country to visit several of the diggings in Wisconsin, and around Galena, and also the smelting furnaces, where the mineral is extracted from the ore and cast into pigs. The country through which we passed was one continued series of rolling prairies. It was perfectly enchanting to see what a perfect flower garden was before us wherever we went.
We descended a mine which had been sunk about one hundred feet. The lead runs in veins either due north and south, or west and east. Veins frequently cross each other at right angles. If it is a north and south vein, and a good one—and crosses an east and west vein, it becomes inferior from that point, and the other assumes a superior character, and usually is the best lead. The way the miners dig the lead is to pierce down perpendicularly till they get to the bottom of the sheet—then take the base out and dig upwards. The lead is usually wedged in between two ledges of rocks, filling up the crevice, which runs down from fifty to one hundred feet. It is frequently wedged in so tight that the rocks have to be blasted to loosen it. I went down about fifty feet where they were at work, and then passed along in a horizontal direction, about eighty feet, where the miners were knocking out the lead in the fissures in the rocks over their heads. We loitered around the mines till the decline of day. The shades of evening gathered over us before we had crossed the last prairie on our way to Galena. The moon was just climbing above the horizon, when a prairie wolf darted across our path, as though scared by the sound of our carriage wheels, but having run a few rods, turned around to look to see who were the intruders upon his domain.
An Indian treaty is about negotiating at St. Peters, and a steamer started from here a few days since to carry up a party who desire to be present at this gathering of the wild men, and to visit the majestic and stupendous scenery around St. Anthony's Falls. I had fully intended to have been one of the party, but on the eve of starting I felt myself forced for want of time to forego the excursion.
The Steamer James Madison,
Wednesday Evening, June 19th.
At early dawn, on Monday last, we crossed Fevre river, and started for Chicago in an open lumber wagon, 'ycleped a stage. Taking our trunks for seats, we determined we would make the best of every thing, and if possible keep up good spirits, while we learned the manner in which people travel through new countries. Our journey, though attended with no little fatigue, was like a walk over the rosied path of pleasure, compared with a jaunt of which Bishop Kemper gave me an account. He had made an appointment somewhere in the interior of Indiana, where it was necessary for him to be at a given day, and had undertaken to pass over Illinois from St. Louis to that point by land. He was overtaken by rain which continued a day or two: the streams became swollen, and the roads, often for miles, completely overflown. All this time he was obliged to ride in an open wagon, the bottom boards of which were loose, and often slipping out, rendering it necessary for him every now and then to get out, and stand in the mud and water, till the rickety wagon could be again brought into a state of temporary order. During the last part of his journey he rode all night with the rain pouring down upon him, and the horses sometimes fording deep creeks—sometimes plunging into sloughs, and then wading for miles through the water which had overflowed the road. The office of a missionary Bishop at the west, if he does his duty, and throws himself with all his heart into the work, is no sinecure.
Our course from Galena, for the first thirty miles, was through beautiful oak openings, and over a rolling prairie. After this, on nearly to Chicago, our path lay through a magnificent, level prairie country. The wide sea of grass around us was now and then broken by a grove, springing up with luxuriance and beauty amid the treeless tract of country that stretched around on every side. These groves are points of great interest, and are spoken of by the sparsely scattered inhabitants of northern Illinois, as we speak of cities and towns. The most beautiful of those which we passed were Buffalo, Inlet, and Paw Paw groves, around or near which were scenes of massacre and slaughter during the Black Hawk war.
As no one can conceive the sensation awakened by being out of sight of land at sea, till he actually stands on the deck of a vessel, that is ploughing her way through the trackless world of waters that stretch interminably around him, and strains his eye in vain to catch a view of one single fading outline of the far off shore—so no one can conceive the emotion that rises up in the bosom of the traveller as he stands on the broad prairie, and sees the horizon settling down upon one wide sea of waving grass, and can behold around him neither stone, nor stump, nor bush, nor tree, nor hill, nor house. These vast prairies, though bearing a luxuriant growth of grass, would impress one with a sense of desolateness, were they not beautified with flowers, and animated with the songs and the sight of the feathered tribes. The view of the prairie, as it stretches off before you, often appears like a perfect flower garden. Though we were too late to see these productions in their rich vernal beauty, yet often they stood strewn around us on every side as far as the eye could reach, spreading out their rich and brilliant petals of every colour and hue. An intelligent lady told me that in a single walk over the corner of a prairie, she gathered for a bouquet forty different kinds of flowers; and another informed me that she had been able to gather one hundred and twenty different kinds. Though the music wafted along over these luxuriant expanses of earth be usually not so melodious nor varied as that to which the woodlands echo, there is something very animating in the wheeling of the plover, the chirping of the robin, and the fluttering of the wings of a flock of prairie hens, started up at every half mile of your journey. And then occasionally we saw noble herds of cattle feeding over these vast plains. Such large, and fat, and noble-looking oxen and cows, I never before beheld, as I saw grazing amid the luxuriant prairies of Illinois. There is no fence to stay them in their course:—they range where they choose amid the ten thousands of acres that stretch unenclosed around them.
I have already intimated that this part of Illinois is as yet but thinly populated. It is rapidly filling up but for some years the first settlers will have to endure many hardships, and submit to many privations and sacrifices, of which we can scarcely form an idea. The following fact will serve to illustrate this remark. While on our way to Chicago, as we stopped on one occasion to change horses, I went in and sat down in the only house in the place. It was a comfortable log-cabin, and all nature looked so bright and sunny without, I was hardly prepared for demure and melancholy looks within: and yet the moment I entered, I saw in the countenance of the good lady of the cabin that her heart was ill at ease. She looked so forlorn and full of gloom, I determined to enter into conversation with her and if possible elicit the cause of her depression. After a variety of inquiries, she was drawn out to give the following sketch of herself, which I will put down as nearly as possible in her own words.
"We came into this country from western New York several years since. We have never failed to be amply remunerated for our cultivation of the soil. In a temporal point of view we have increased in goods. But our children have never been to school a day since we have been here. We used to go to meeting every Sabbath, but here often for months there is no such thing known as public worship. A while ago, there was a minister that used to come once in three weeks, and preach about four miles from this. But now he is dead, and we have no preaching at all. We have no ministers and no physicians. What made me more contented to reside here, was that my oldest daughter was married and lived my nearest neighbour, about two miles from this. She had three lovely and promising children, in whom all our hearts were bound up. But the grave now covers them! They were all cut down one after another about six months ago by the scarlet fever. We could'nt get any physician to see them, and they all died within ten days of each other. And then we had to carry them ourselves to the grave. We put them into the ground in silence. There was no one to lift up the voice of prayer."
Here the good woman seemed choked in her utterance. She wiped her eyes and ceased speaking for a moment. I remained silent, and soon she proceeded.
"My daughter laid her loss very much to heart. She never after the death of her babes wore a bright countenance. About ten days ago she was confined. Herself and her infant are dead! We buried them about three days since. She had no physician to attend upon her, for there was none within thirty miles. She had no minister to speak to her words of heavenly consolation, for there are none near here. Her husband has a good farm, and the crops look well; but what is all this to him, now that his wife and children are all gone? He appears desolate and broken-hearted."
Having listened to this touching story, I could well understand why the aspect of gloom sat upon her countenance, and while I endeavoured in a few words to direct her thoughts to Him who was "appointed to bind up the broken-hearted, and to comfort all that mourn," I was led to think of the unnumbered blessings and privileges that we who live on the Atlantic border enjoy, for which we feel little or no emotions of gratitude. How unspeakable are our religious privileges! And yet how little are they appreciated by the great mass of the people! Will not God one day visit for these things?
In our journey we had some singular and rather amusing adventures. We found all along at our log inns, for our refreshment, substantial food, bacon and beans, or fried pork and potatoes, and if we were too dyspeptic to eat these, we could fast, which is sometimes useful. But at night we frequently found ourselves placed under more embarrassing circumstances. A single instance will serve to illustrate a number of analogous cases. I select the second night after leaving Galena. It is after nine o'clock. The strip of moon that is visible emits a few feeble rays. The stars, half obscured, glow faintly in the heavens. Our course is still onward through the boundless prairie. In the distance may be seen the faint outline of a grove. We hope to find there a resting place for the night. As we approach it, we find it is a cluster of trees that grow on either side of Somonauk Creek. Our driver has already plunged his horses into the cool waters of the creek. The farther bank is gained. Our course now is beneath the noble elms that hang drooping over the creek, and spread abroad their branches forming a thick and dark shade over the road. We see in the distance the smoke eddying up amid the trees. It is the place where we are to spend the night—a log cabin, before the door of which is kindled a fire, half smothered with dirt and chips, whose eddying currents of smoke as they are swept into the house by the evening breeze expel the swarms of musquitoes that for several hours had been making acquaintance with us.
When the weary traveller reaches his resting-place for the night, it is a great comfort to have a bed and room by himself to which he can retire and seek repose. But this is a luxury not to be expected usually by the western traveller. They have here what is playfully called "The Potter's field," a place in these log taverns in which they put strangers—a room designed as a dormitory, in which all travellers, men, women and children are placed to lodge! The house which we had reached at Somonauk Creek had a place of this sort. It was the only room in the house save the kitchen. Two stage loads had already arrived, and other travellers were coming in. I told my friend B—— that we must try to secure a bed while we could. In this Potter's field they gave us a comfortable corner with a straw bed on which to stretch ourselves. We were among the earliest to seek our repose. Fortunately, there was one bed enshrouded with curtains, which was assigned to a gentleman from Vermont and his newly married bride, whom he was bringing to reside at the west.—They went on stowing the beds with occupants, and spreading the floor with couches, till fourteen persons were disposed of, and then they found that every foot of ground was occupied. The landlord appeared to be full of the milk of human kindness. When some of our fellow lodgers cried out, that they were half devoured by musquitoes, he very benignantly replied, "I will open the door and let in a current of smoke, and that will drive them out." We found some inhabitants tabernacling in our bedstead that annoyed us more than the musquitoes. Yet after all we got some rest, and when we rose to breathe the fresh air we felt that we had abundant cause to thank the Lord for his goodness. However indifferent had been our lodgings, we remembered that the Saviour while here on the earth, had not always so comfortable a spot at night to lay his head as this.
About a dozen miles before we reached Chicago, we seemed to descend to another steppe of land, where the prairie was for the most part from two to twelve inches under water. The grass, thus having its roots continually irrigated, looked very rank; we made but very slow progress through it on our way. Though that part of Chicago which is built up, stands on more elevated ground, the anticipated limits of the city extend into this wet prairie. We saw the lots staked out as we passed, which I suppose have been sold at a very high price. I could not but think of the remark of a fellow traveller, who, in speaking of this and several other places, said, "If each of these places do not become as large as Pekin in China, these city lots cannot all be built upon."
Chicago is truly an interesting place. It has sprung up here in three or four years—a city—as by the wand of enchantment. I had heard much of this place, but must confess I was not prepared to find so large and interesting a town. Its situation on either side of the Chicago river is too well-known to need description. It has quite the air of an eastern town. There is a fine brick Episcopal Church just completed. Our stay was very brief in Chicago. Almost the first sound we heard after our arrival, was the ringing of the bell of the large and beautiful steamboat, James Madison, which was on the eve of departure for Detroit and Buffalo. As we might have no other opportunity of going by the lakes for the next ten days, with the specimen of land travelling that we had just had, we were not long in making up our minds whether we would avail ourselves of this boat, or direct our course to Detroit through the Michigan woods. We gave Chicago a very hasty survey, took our passage on board the James Madison, and as the shades of evening gathered over us we found ourselves skimming over the waves of Michigan lake.
Mackinaw, July 20th.
We this morning found ourselves bounding over the green waters of the Michigan with the Wisconsin Territory on our left. About nine o'clock, A. M. we landed at Milwaukie. A bar in the river prevented the steamboat from going up to the town, but we found ourselves amply compensated for our long walk by a view of this interesting place from several of its streets and more elevated parts. The whole site of the town, in connexion with the adjacent country, is richly entitled to its Indian name,—"The Lovely Land." Less than two years since there was scarcely a frame house on the spot, and now there is a population of nearly three thousand, with buildings that will compare in stability and elegance with those found in our large eastern towns.
It was towards evening when we approached this picturesque spot—Mackinaw—where the wide expanse of water, and the dark evergreens of the islands, and the thronging multitudes of wild men, gave to this point in my journey a novel appearance. I think this would be a most delightful retreat for an invalid who wanted retirement, a cool, invigorating atmosphere, and inducements to active exercise. It would be impossible for a man to be here long without having new trains of thought awakened in his mind, or without being led to contemplate the human character under several new aspects. Mackinaw is an island of about nine miles in circumference. There is a fort occupying the elevated parts of the town, which is now vacated, the troops having been withdrawn to be present at the treaty at St. Peter's. This circumstance, in connexion with the great number of Indians now present, has created some uneasiness in the minds of the inhabitants of this place, especially as the Indians are very much dissatisfied with the attempt to palm off on to them goods in part for their annuities, when money had been promised. Already has a council been held among them, and the hint has been dropped that they can bring a thousand warriors into the field. The first object that met my eye on the low pebbly shore, as we approached the island, was the beautiful lodges, and well made bark canoes of the Ottawa and Chippewa tribes. The whole appearance of their encampment in this wild spot is picturesque and imposing. Each family had their bark canoe, which was now drawn up on the beach, and lay beside their lodge or tent. In this canoe, made of the outer rind of the birchen tree, they carry their family, and furniture, and all their worldly effects—children, dogs, fishing-tackle, guns, their tent, cooking utensils, and themselves. Their tent, or lodge, consists first of five or six tapering rods, which are set up so as to form a cone, and then around these are placed a coil of matting, made of reeds or flaggs, and arranged in such a manner as to form a series of concentric or circular covering, each lapping upon the other like the scales upon a fish. In the centre of the lodge a fire was kindled, a hole having been left in the upper part through which the smoke could pass off. Around the fire were spread the blankets and bear-skins, which furnished both beds and seats. We entered several tents and were kindly received. Almost the first countenance of a white man upon which I looked after reaching the shore, was the bright sunny face of our beloved brother, the Bishop of Michigan. I never had a more unexpected or joyful meeting with a Christian brother. We spent two or three hours in the most delightful Christian intercourse. Bishop McCoskry was on his way to visit Green Bay, Milwaukie, and other parts of Wisconsin. It was only a few hours, before our steamers were again moving forward through the deep green waters, to their several places of destination.