I cannot admire the Indian character. They are sullen, gloomy and obstinate, unless powerfully excited, and then, they exhibit all the antics of madmen.
After spending a few days viewing the country in this vicinity, I again crossed the river at Hennipen, and passed on to the stage road. The next day, I took the stage, and went to Peoria, the county seat of Peoria county, which stands on the site of fort Clark. This is quite a village. It is regularly laid out on a beautiful prairie, on the western bank of the Illinois river; has a brick court house, two taverns, a dozen stores, and about twenty dwelling houses, some of them quite elegant. It is eighty miles from Ottawa, one hundred and sixty from Chicago, one hundred and fifty from Galena, one hundred and fifty by land and two hundred by water from St. Louis.
The river here swells out to more than a mile in width, and the opposite shore is low, marshy land. Peoria seems to be subject to bilious fevers and the fever and ague; but I could perceive no cause for its being unhealthy, unless it was the river and marshy land on the other side. The water is brought to the village in an aqueduct, from a high bluff, half a mile back of it, and appeared to be excellent. A number of deaths had occurred, previous to my arrival; and I saw a number of pale-faced invalids.
In coming to this place, I passed over a fine country, much more settled, with larger fields and more extensive improvements than I found in the upper part of the State; but still it was diversified with rolling prairies and groves of timber. While the mail was changing at one of the post offices, I passed on and came to a log school house, where all the scholars studied aloud. This was quite a novelty to me. More discordant sounds never grated on the ear; and if the master had a musical one, he must have been severely punished. I asked him, if his scholars commonly studied in that manner; and he said they did, although he thought they now hollowed a little louder than usual. This inconvenient practice of some of our ancient schools, I supposed had been entirely done away; but on enquiry, I was informed it still held its sway to some extent in many of the western States.
Stages run from Peoria (through Springfield), to St. Louis, to Galena, and to Chicago. There is a rope ferry just below the village, where the river is narrow. It is a place of a good deal of business, quite a thoroughfare for travellers; and it is supposed by some that it will shortly become the seat of the State government. I spent three days here, then took passage on board a steamboat for St. Louis.
I have often remarked, that the amount taxed by taverners, is, generally, in an inverse proportion to their accommodations; that is, the less they furnish their guests, the more they charge. In my present trip, I have more than once been reminded of an anecdote related to me some time ago, of a tavern keeper at the south. A gentleman with his family, travelling in the westerly part of Virginia, was obliged one night to put up at one of the small country taverns, more suited to the accommodation of the teamster who sleeps in his wagon, than to the entertainment of gentlemen and ladies. They were furnished with the best the house afforded, but it was mean in kind and badly prepared. Some of them were obliged to sleep on the floor, and those that were accommodated with beds, were exceedingly annoyed by the insects they contained. The gentleman arose early, ordered his carriage and asked the landlord the amount of his bill. He told him, thirty dollars! The gentleman stared; but at length asked him, what he had had to the amount of thirty dollars, or even five dollars. The landlord very politely assured him that his was a reasonable charge, for says he, I hire this establishment at the annual rent of thirty dollars, and this I must charge to my customers; the year is almost out, and you are the only available guest I have had; therefore I have charged the whole amount to you. The gentleman laughed heartily; and considering it too good a joke to be spoiled by any fault on his part, very pleasantly handed him over the thirty dollars. He that travels much in the world, may have occasion to fear the rent day is near at hand. This frank explanation of the Virginia landlord has furnished an easy solution to some tavern bills I have paid, that otherwise would have been entirely inexplicable; and perhaps it may be equally useful to other travellers.
The Illinois river is a wide, sluggish stream; clear water, but generally, hardly any perceivable current. It is a very shoal river, having many sand bars.—Our boat did not draw more than two feet of water, yet was continually running aground. I should think the lead was thrown a quarter part of the time; and it used to amuse me, sometimes, to hear the leadsman sing out "two feet and a half"—"two feet large"—"two feet"—"two feet scant,"—and then aground; and perhaps it would be half a day before we could get afloat again. We were seven days going to St. Louis—rather slow travelling, and somewhat vexatious; we thought, however, we might as well be merry as sad, so we made the best of it. The captain had as much reason as any of us to complain; for we took a cabin passage, and he had to board us, however long the passage might be. All along down, the country is rather low, except some bluffs on the river—and where we found a bluff on one side, there would be either a low marsh or a lake on the other. Probably, there are twenty lakes below Peoria, on one side or the other of the river. They were all long and narrow, and often had an outlet into the river. They appeared more like former beds of the stream, than any thing else.
Pekin is twenty miles below Peoria, on a high bluff, the east side of the river, having two taverns, thirty houses, and a large steam flour mill. Sixty miles below this, on the same side of the river, is a large village called Beardstown. Here are large flour mills, saw mill, &c. all carried by steam.—Twenty miles below this, is a small village called Naples.