James's Account of S. H. Long's Expedition, 1819-1820, part 2

by Edwin James; Stephen H. Long; Thomas Say

The prairie appears to have heretofore extended, {95} almost without interruption, for several miles in the rear of St. Louis. The western portions of it are yet naked meadows, without trees or bushes. As we followed the little pathway towards Bon Homme,[51] we passed large tracts to which the labours of the sand rat[52] had given the aspect of a ploughed field. From the great quantities of fresh earth recently brought up, we perceived the little animals were engaged in enlarging their subterranean excavations; and we watched long, though in vain, expecting to see them emerge from their burrows. It is probable the jarring of the earth under the hoofs of our horses, by giving early notice of our approach, prevented them from appearing at the surface.

In our way we passed the large hepatic spring visited by Mr. Jessup, and described in his report. It rises in the bed of a large brook, and diffuses a strong sulphurous odour, perceptible at a distance of one hundred yards. It probably derives its mineral impregnation from some decomposition in the alluvial substances through which it rises to the surface.

Eight or ten miles west of St. Louis, forests of oak and hickory begin to occur, and become more frequent towards Chesterfield and Bon Homme.[54] At evening we descended into the deep cotton-wood forests of the Missouri bottom, and a little before sunset arrived on the bank of that majestic river. Here we were politely received and entertained in the house of a gentleman formerly of New York. A large and splendid collection of books, several articles of costly furniture, and above all, manners and conversation like those of the better classes in our cities, formed here a striking contrast to the rude and solitary cabin, and the wild features of nature, in a spot where the labours of men had as yet produced scarce a perceptible change.

On the ensuing morning, May 5th, we crossed the Missouri above Bon Homme. The forests on the {96} north side of the Missouri were here narrow, and confined principally to the vallies.

Pond Fort, where we halted to dine, was at this time the residence of a single family. In the late war, the inhabitants of the surrounding country had collected their families and their cattle at this place, building their temporary residences in the form of a hollow square, within which their cattle and horses were enclosed at night.[55]

In the pond, which lies along the north side of the fort, the nelumbium was growing in great perfection. Its broad orbicular leaves are somewhat raised from the water, almost concealing its surface. Its showy yellow flower, when fully expanded, is larger, as remarked by Nuttall, than that of any other plant indigenous to the United States, except the magnolia macrophylla. The nuts, of which there are several immersed in the receptacle of each flower, have, when ripe, the size and the general appearance of small acorns, but are much more palatable. The large farinaceous root is sometimes used by the Indians as an article of diet, as are also the nuts.

Our path lay through extensive and fertile meadows, stretching away to the distant horizon, and bounded sometimes by the verge of the sky, and sometimes by the margin of a forest. The elk, the deer, and the bison, the indigenous inhabitants of these delightful meadows, had been long since driven away by the incursions of the white settlers, scattered at remote intervals on the borders of the forests. The dense and uniform growth of grass had risen untrodden and uncropped, and was now waving with ceaseless undulations, as the wind swept lightly over the surface of the plain. The slender and graceful panicles of the heuchera americana, rising above the grass, resembled a grove of spears, bristling above the heads of an embattled host. Along the margins of the brooks, we noticed the beautiful spiræa opulifolia, and a slender species of {97} viburnum, bending under their clusters of snowy flowers.

Through the day, the weather had been fine but warm. At sunset a thunder-storm rose in the west; and the day was succeeded, almost without any interval of twilight, by the most impenetrable darkness. The wind soon rose to a tempest; and hailstones of uncommon magnitude began to fall, accompanied with thunder and lightning. Our first thought was to dismount from our horses, and shelter ourselves from the hail on the leeward side of their bodies. We were in the middle of an extensive prairie, where no other protection could be looked for. The hailstones, however, diminished in size, and soon ceased to fall; but such torrents of rain ensued, that the plain became inundated, and the frequent flashes of lightning were reflected to our eyes from the surface of a vast lake. The plains in many places having little inclination, the water of a sudden shower is drained off less rapidly than it falls. After raging with great violence for a short time, the storm ceased; but the darkness was so intense, that we did not arrive at the settlement, where we proposed to lodge, until a late hour in the night.

Soon after crossing the Missouri, we had ascended so far as to reach the general level of the great woodless plain; and after travelling a few miles, we found the surface sloping to the north-east towards the Mississippi. In the afternoon, we crossed the Darden, which enters the Mississippi eight miles above the mouth of the Illinois; and on the following morning the Cuivre, tributary to the same river, ten miles above the other.[56] The point between the Missouri and Mississippi, near their confluence, is raised in the highest parts, probably less than one hundred and fifty feet above the water-table. It is of a deep and fine soil, which would appear rather to have subsided from the waters of a quiet ocean, than to have been brought down from above, and deposited {98} in its present situation by the rivers. Between the sources of the streams which descend from either side of this narrow cape, extends an irregular tongue of land, destitute of timber, and every where nearly of the same elevation; as if it had been a part of the great plain, left naked at the retiring of the ocean, and in which the vast vallies of the Missouri and Mississippi had since been excavated by the operations of those streams. The smaller rivers of this region appear, both in extent and direction, to have been wholly independent of any peculiar conformation of the original surface on which they commenced their course; and their present beds gradually deepening, and descending in the nearest direction towards the vallies of the great rivers, are in every respect such as we may suppose to have resulted from the wearing away of a great and uniform plain. At a house where we rested in the middle of the day, and which was in the highest part of the country between the Missouri and Mississippi, here sixty miles distant from each other, a well had been sunk sixty-five feet without finding water. This well passes through several strata of loam, clay, and sand; then through a narrow horizontal bed, of that peculiar substance called chalk, by Mr. Schoolcraft;[57] which is here intermixed with numerous angular fragments of flints, and terminates at the surface of a stratum of blue compact limestone, abounding in organic remains. We were informed, that among other things brought up from this well, were masses of carbonized wood, bearing the marks of the axe; but as these could not be found, we thought it reasonable to attribute some part of the account to the active imagination of the narrator.

From the divide at the sources of the Cuivre, we overlooked an extensive tract of undulating meadow; and could distinguish on the distant horizon, the wide valley, and the extensive forests of Loutre lick.[58]