One little incident in our afternoon travel I will mention, as it appeared to afford more pleasure to the rest of the passengers than it did to me. Where the stage was to stop for fifteen or twenty minutes, either to change mail or horses, I had invariably walked on a mile, if I could get as far, for the sake of variety and exercise. So when we came to the pretty village of Anoka (at the mouth of Rum River), where the mail was to be changed, I started on foot and alone. But unfortunately and unconsciously I took the wrong road. I had walked a mile I think— for twenty minutes at least had expired since I started— and being in the outskirts of the town, in the midst of farms and gardens, turned up to a garden-fence, on the other side of which a gentleman of professional— I rather thought clerical appearance— was feeding a cow on pumpkins. I had not seen pumpkins so abundant since my earliest youth, when I used to do a similar thing. I rather thought too that the gentleman whom I accosted was a Yankee, and after talking a few minutes with him, so much did he exceed me in asking questions, that I felt sure he was one. How thankful I ought to be that he was one! for otherwise it is probable he would not have ascertained where, and for what purpose, I was walking. He informed me I was on the wrong road; that the stage took a road further west, which was out of sight; and that I had better go on a little further and then cross the open prairie. Then for the first time did I notice that the road I had taken was but a street, not half so much worn as the main road. I followed his friendly advice, and feeling some despair I hastened on at a swift run, and as I advanced towards where I thought the right road ought to be, though I could neither see it nor the stage, "called so loud that all the hollow deep of"— the prairies might have resounded. At last, when quite out of breath and hoarse with loud vociferation, I descried the stage rolling on at a rapid rate. Then I renewed my calls, and brought it up standing. After clambering over a few fences, sweating and florid, I got to the stage and resumed my seat, amidst the pleasant merriment of the passengers. The driver was kind enough to say that he began to suspect I had taken the wrong road, and was about to turn round and come after me— that he certainly would not have left me behind, &c. I was happy, nevertheless, that my mistake did not retard the stage. But I do not intend to abandon the practice of walking on before the stage whenever it stops to change horses.
Just in the edge of twilight, and when we were a little way this side of Coon Creek, where we had changed horses again, we came in sight of a large fire. It was too much in one spot to be a prairie fire; and as we drove on the sad apprehension that it was a stack of hay was confirmed. The flames rose up in wide sheets, and cast a steady glare upon the landscape. It was a gorgeous yet a dismal sight. It always seems worse to see grain destroyed by fire than ordinary merchandise. Several stacks were burning. We saw that the usual precaution against prairie fires had been taken. These consist in ploughing several furrows around the stack, or by burning the grass around it to prevent the flames from reaching it. It was therefore suspected that some rascal had applied the torch to the hay; though for humanity's sake we hoped it was not so. The terrible prairie fires, which every autumn waste the western plains, are frequently started through the gross carelessness of people who camp out, and leave their fires burning.
Some of us took supper at St. Anthony. I cannot say much of the hotel de facto. The table was not as good as I found on the way at other places above. There is a hotel now being built there out of stone, which I am confident will exceed anything in the territory, if we except the Fuller House. It is possible we all felt invigorated and improved by the supper, for we rode the rest of the way in a very crowded stage without suffering any exhibition of ill temper to speak of, and got into St. Paul at last, when it was not far from eleven; and after seventy-five miles of staging, the luxurious accommodations of the Fuller House seemed more inviting than ever.
LETTER XVI.
PROGRESS.
Rapid growth of the North-West— Projected railroads— Territorial system of the United States— Inquiry into the cause of Western progress— Influence of just laws and institutions— Lord Bacon's remark.
ST. PAUL, October, 1856.
THE progress which has characterized the settlement of the territory of Minnesota, presents to the notice of the student of history and political economy some important facts. The growth of a frontier community, so orderly, so rapid, and having so much of the conservative element in it, has rarely been instanced in the annals of the world. In less time than it takes the government to build a custom house we see an unsettled territory grown to the size of a respectable state, in wealth, in population, in power. A territory, too, which ten years ago seemed to be an incredible distance from the civilized portions of the country; and which was thought by most people to be in a latitude that would defeat the energy and the toil of man. Today it could bring into the field a larger army than Washington took command of at the beginning of our revolution!
In 1849, the year of its organization, the population of the territory was 4780; now it is estimated to be nearly 200,000. In 1852 there were 42 post offices in the territory, now there are 253. The number of acres of public land sold during the fiscal year ending 30th June, 1852, was 15,258. For the year ending 30th June, 1856, the number of acres sold was 1,002,130.
When we contemplate the headlong progress of Western growth in its innumerable evidences of energy, we admit the truth of what the Roman poet said— nil mortalibus ardum est— that there is nothing too difficult for man. In the narrative of his exploration to the Mississippi in 1820, along with General Cass, Mr. Schoolcraft tells us how Chicago then appeared. "We found," says he, "four or five families living here." Four or five families was the extent of the population of Chicago in 1820! In 1836 it had 4853 inhabitants. In 1855 its population was 85,000. The history of many western towns that have sprung up within ten years is characterized by much the same sort of thrift. Unless some terrible scourge shall come to desolate the land, or unless industry herself shall turn to sloth, a few more years will present the magnificent spectacle of the entire domain stretching from this frontier to the Pacific coast, transformed into a region of culture, "full of life and splendor and joy."