Whoever has travelled on any of the western rivers knows something about the annoyances connected with western steamboats—the drinking—the swearing—the gambling. We were induced to take our passage in "The Elk," from the fact that it was the only boat that was going down the river this morning. We soon found that our boat was not of the first order; our captain, however, appears to be one of the most quiet, taciturn, and unmoveable men we ever met.
It was about ten o'clock, that we found our boat pushing off from the shore, and our backs turned upon the clouds of smoke that hung in dense masses over what has been called the Birmingham of America. As we stood on the deck, we seemed at the moment of starting enclosed by a forest of dark tunnels peering up from countless steamers lying along the shore. More than forty of these were clustered together in the same group where "The Elk" was stationed. It is said there cannot be less than seven hundred steamboats moving on these western and south-western rivers.
We were fully in the stream!—We began to feel that we were borne on the flowing bosom of the Ohio! The luxury of that moment was worth travelling four hundred miles to enjoy! What thronging emotions then came rushing upon our minds! We remembered whither this stream was bearing us—away from our friends—perhaps never to return! We thought of the vast territory it watered—its majestic length—the scenes of Indian warfare that had been acted upon its shores and on its surface, long before the axe of the white man had felled a single tree in those vast and unbroken forests that stood upon its banks, and were reflected from its mirrored surface! It was even then the beautiful river, as the name Ohio denotes. It is said that "the line of beauty" is not a straight but waving line. If so, this river is richly entitled to its name. From first to last, it moves in "the line of beauty." So winding is its course that we usually do not see, as we are passing along upon it, more than a half or quarter of a mile in advance of us, and often not so far. Thus we see it in distinct sections, each section resembling a beautiful little lake, surrounded by its own sweet and peculiar scenery—shut in by its verdant and variegated banks and wood-covered hills, and ornamented by one or two, and often several little green islets, around which the parted waters wind romantically.
We passed the settlement of the Harmonists, or Economists, as they are frequently called. This people are the followers of Rapp, and reside at a town called Economy, about fifteen miles below Pittsburg. They also form a singular instance of the power of delusion. The people belonging to this community are principally German emigrants, extremely ignorant, and, therefore, more easily controlled by a shrewd and cunning leader. Rapp professes to be a prophet sent from God, and gifted with the high privilege of holding such constant communication with heaven, as to receive from thence directions how to regulate and govern all their affairs.—He therefore enjoins upon every individual belonging to the community, entire, passive submission, and implicit obedience to his orders.
This self-constituted ruler claims to be their sole religious instructor. The people usually assemble on the Sabbath, when he speaks to them, what it concerns them to know in relation to the Supreme Being and his Prophet—and then gives them directions about their labour for the ensuing week, reminding them of the great importance of harmony and economy, assuring them, that both of these will be effectually secured if they undeviatingly follow his directions.
Though they have no outward ordinances, they make great account of an annual festival—the Harvest Home. At the observance of this festival, after immense preparation in the way of providing all manner of good things to eat and drink, not less than six hours are spent at the table—which are occupied alternately in eating, singing, and praying. The above particulars I received from several different, but well informed individuals, residing at Pittsburg.
In the course of the day we passed Steubenville, pleasantly situated on the river. I had barely time during the landing of passengers to ascend the hill, and look into one of its principal streets. Its houses, like those of Pittsburg, bore the dingy stain so common to all this bituminous coal region. I wished to have met the Rev. Mr. M——, of this place, with whom I had no personal acquaintance, but in whom I felt a particular interest on account of the silent and powerful influence he exerted in the institution where he finished his literary studies, in commending godliness and rebuking sin, by a holy, spotless, and unblemished life. The savour of his name still remained at that institution several years subsequent, at the time when I was passing through my preparatory studies there. I found upon inquiry that the same simplicity of faith, and singleness of mind, and devoted holiness of life, characterized his labours on the banks of the Ohio, which imparted such a charm and moral power to his conduct as an academical student. There is nothing, after all, that can place such a mighty moral lever in a man's hands, as simple-hearted piety—decided holiness of heart and life.
We reached Wheeling just at sunset, and made our arrangements to remain there through the night, with a view of taking the stage next morning to pass into the interior of Ohio, making Gambier one of the points at which we should stop. There having fallen heavy rains, however, the state of the roads was such that the project was abandoned, and we determined to keep on in the Elk. We felt some pleasure in being permitted to spend an hour or two within the limits of the "old dominion," for it was the first time that either of us had trod upon Virginia soil.
Tuesday, June 20th, Cabin of the Elk,
Passing down the Ohio.
I know of nothing more delightful than to sit at one's ease, and be wafted down such a beautiful stream as this, winding its graceful and circuitous way through groves and grass-covered fields, and beauteous woodland scenes. Occasionally we see the banks surmounted with lofty bluffs that lift their proud summits up towards the clouds—and then succeeded by bottom land studded with trees that bend over to dip their pendent boughs in the glassy surface that sweetly reflects them. As one sits in a sheltered nook in the cabin, gliding down such a stream, with such a scenery around him, and feeling the cool refreshing breeze fanning his fevered brow, and imparting vigour and new elasticity to his enervated frame, he must be very stupid, or very depraved, if his heart is not drawn upwards and made to throb with gratitude to the glorious Framer of this garnished and goodly scene!