For ten miles after leaving Trinity river, we passed over some most beautiful rolling prairies. Although it was December, yet the air was mild and serene, and the grass as green as in June. These prairies much resemble those of Illinois; and on some of them, we saw large herds of cattle feeding. We passed some miry swamps and deep muddy streams. The most disagreeable part of the whole trip, was the fording of streams. The banks were generally steep down into the water; and so slippery, we had sometimes to dismount, hold on to a tree, and let the horse slide down; then pull the horse beside us, mount him in the water, and ride across. I would sometimes take my saddle bags off, send my horse over by himself, and find a tree or a log on which to pass myself. The water was very muddy, so that we could not see the bottom, or form hardly any idea how deep it might be, until we forded. One stream was a very bad one. There were logs in the bottom, embedded in the mud about the middle of the river; and when our horses passed them, they struck into a channel where the water was about two feet deeper; their heads were suddenly plunged under water, and we came very near being thrown into the stream. Among the trees in the swamps, I noticed the red cedar, to-day, for the first time. It grows to quite a large tree, and is very good timber for building, boards, posts, &c.
To-day, we found by the side of the path a number of petrified limbs of trees; and in one place, there was a log about a foot in diameter, turned into stone. We broke off some pieces which plainly showed the grains of wood; and on one side the bark remained and was petrified also. It might probably be manufactured into good hones, although it was coarser grained, and of a lighter shade, than those usually found at our stores.
We passed only two houses this day, and put up for the night at a miserable log house occupied by a widow woman. She had a large stock of fine looking cattle, but no milk. Our fare was not of the best kind, although the old lady tried to accommodate us as well as she could.
There are few mills of any kind in the whole country. The corn is ground in a steel mill, like a coffee mill, although much larger, and having a crank on each side. This is commonly nailed to a tree before the door. The corn is often left standing in the field, and gathered only as fast as they wish to use it. It used to amuse me, when we rode up to a house at night, and called for a meal, to hear the woman sing out to a boy, "Run to the field and bring two or three ears of corn—I want to make some bread for the gentlemen's supper." So we had to wait until the corn was gathered, ground, kneaded and baked, before we could have bread to eat. I suppose this is the true method of "living from hand to mouth."
We took an early start next morning, and after passing swamps, streams and woods, came out into a fine prairie country. Our path led over the top of one, somewhat elevated above the general level of the country, and from which we could see many miles all around. It was a prospect too grand and imposing to be adequately described.
As we passed along by the side of an extensive prairie, we saw two Indians horseback, on an elevated spot, about half a mile distant, with guns in their hands, and looking at the country beyond them. On seeing us, they wheeled their horses and came at full speed down upon us. We were a little startled at first; but they halted within a few rods of us, stared a moment, and then civilly passed the time of day, and enquired in broken English, the distance to a house on the road we had come. I never was an enthusiastic admirer of the Indian character. They may have done some noble deeds of daring, and performed some generous acts of disinterested friendship; but they possess and practice the art of deception so well, that no one can know, with any degree of certainty, when these acts may occur. When I see Indians approaching, I hardly know whether it is for good or for evil; and therefore, never feel entirely at ease in their society.
The Romans, in the days of their prosperity, prided themselves in being called a Roman citizen; and this was generally, a sufficient protection from depredation and insult, when travelling among the more barbarous nations around them. Like the Romans, I felt not a little pleasure in the thought, that I was an American citizen, and that this was a protection from outrage and insult in the presence of the savage Indian. Since my return, I have seen an account of twenty Polanders, while on their way from New-Orleans to Mexico, who were attacked by the Indians in Texas, and all killed except one, who was fortunate enough to escape and tell the story. Had not the Indians readily discovered by our personal appearance, that we were American citizens, we might have shared the same fate.
We passed a muddy swamp, in many places the water standing in the road a foot or two in depth; densely covered with timber, and four miles in extent. As we emerged from this, we came upon the bank of the Brazos river, at Hall's ferry. This is a stream of the size and complexion of Red River. In crossing in a boat, we found a strong current. On the other side there is a high bank on which a town has been laid out; but now contains only three dwelling houses and one store. Here we stayed over night. Late in the afternoon, a Spanish trader arrived and put up for the night. He had two men, five mules and one horse and wagon with him. His goods were bought at Natchitoches, and he was transporting them to St. Antonio in the interior of Texas. They were made up into convenient bundles, hung across the mules' backs and stowed in the wagon. They were all armed with guns; and the trader himself had a pistol at each side. He could not well talk English and we conversed but little with him. He had a strong dislike to the Indians, and was afraid of being robbed by them. Of this ill-will, the Indians have their full share. In hunting parties composed of both Americans and Spaniards, when attacked by the Indians in their excursions along the Rocky Mountains, they have been known to spare the Americans, when they have killed all the Spaniards.