CHAPTER IV
Having decided on visiting New Harmony, in Indiana, where our friend B—— had been for some time enjoying the delights of sylvan life, and the refinements of backwoods-society, T—— and I purchased a horse, and Dearborne, a species of light waggon used in this country for travelling. We furnished ourselves with a small axe, hunting knives, and all things necessary for encamping when occasion required, and so set out about the beginning of September.
We crossed the Big-Miami river, and proceeded by a tolerable road, and some good farms, to Lawrenceburg, a handsome town on the Ohio, within a mile of the outlet of the Miami. From thence we drove on towards Wilmington; but our horse becoming jaded, we found it expedient to "camp out," within some miles of that town. Next morning we passed through Wilmington, but lost the direct track through the forest, and took the road to Versailles, which lay in a more northerly direction than the route we had proposed to ourselves. This road was one of those newly cut through the forest, and there frequently occurred intervals of five or six miles between the settlements; and of the road itself, a tolerably correct idea may be formed by noting the stipulations made with the contractors, which are solely that the roads shall be of a certain width, and that no stump shall be left projecting more than fifteen inches above the ground.
On the night of the second day we reached the vicinity of Versailles, and put up at the residence of a backwoodsman—a fine looking fellow, with a particularly ugly squaw. He had come from Kentucky five years before—sat down in the forest—"built him" a log-house—wielded his axe to the tune of "The Hunters of Kentucky," and had now eighteen acres of cleared land, and all the et ceteras of a farm. We supped off venison-steaks and stewed squirrel. Our host told us that there was "a pretty smart chance of deer" in the neighbourhood, and that when he first "located," "there was a small sprinkling of baar" (bear), but that at present nothing of the kind was to be seen. There was very little comfort in the appearance of this establishment; yet the good dame had a side-saddle, hung on a peg in one of the apartments, which would not have disgraced the lady of an Irish squireen. This appears to be an article of great moment in the estimation of West-country ladies, and when nothing else about the house is even tolerable, the side-saddle is of the most fashionable pattern.
From Versailles, we took the track to Vernon, through a rugged and swampy road, it having rained the night before. The country is hilly, and interspersed with runs, which are crossed with some difficulty, the descents and ascents being very considerable. The stumps, "corduroys" (rails laid horizontally across the road where the ground is marshy) swamps, and "republicans," (projecting roots of trees, so called from the stubborn tenacity with which they adhere to the ground, it being almost impossible to grub them up), rendered the difficulty of traversing this forest so great, that notwithstanding our utmost exertions we were unable to make more than sixteen miles from sunrise to sunset, when, both the horse and ourselves being completely exhausted, we halted until morning. I was awoke at sunrise by a "white-billed woodpecker," which was making the woods ring by the rattling of its bill against a tree. This is a large handsome bird, (the picus principalis of Linnaeus), it is sometimes called here the wood-cock. Pigeons, squirrels, and turtle-doves abound in all these forests, and my friend being an expert gunner, we had always plenty of game for dinner. The morning was still grey when we set forward.
We forded the Muskakituck river at Vernon, which stands on its head waters, and is a country seat. We then directed our course to Brownstown, on the east branch of White river. We found the roads still bad until we came within about ten miles of that place. There the country began to assume a more cultivated appearance, and the roads became tolerably good, being made through a sandy or gravelly district. In the neighbourhood of Brownstown there are some rich lands, and from that to Salem, a distance of twenty-two miles, we were much pleased with the country. We had been hitherto journeying through dense forests, and except when we came to a small town, could never see more than about ten yards on either side. All through Indiana the peaches were in great abundance this year, and such was the weight of fruit the trees had to sustain, that the branches were invariably broken where not propped.
From Salem we took a westward track by Orleans to Hindostan, crossed the east branch of White river, and passed through Washington. At a short distance from this town, we had to cross White river again, near the west branch, which is much larger than the east branch. We attempted to ford it, and had got into the middle of the stream before we discovered that the bottom was quicksands. The horse was scared at the footing,—he plunged and broke the traces; however, after a tolerable wetting, we succeeded in getting safe out. A little above the place where we made the attempt, we found there was a ferry-flat. The ferryman considered our attempt as dangerous, for had we gone much further into the stream we should have shot into the quicksands in the deep current. This day the fates were most unpropitious to us; and had we had, like Socrates, a familiar demon at our elbow, he most assuredly would have warned us not to proceed. We had no sooner got into the ferry-flat, and pushed off from shore, than the horse tumbled overboard, carriage and all, and was with difficulty saved from drowning.
We passed through Petersburg to Princeton; but having lost the track, and got into several culs de sacs, an occurrence which is by no means pleasant—as in this case you are unable to turn the carriage, and have no alternative but cutting down one or two small trees in order to effect a passage. After a great deal of danger and difficulty, we succeeded in returning on the true bridle-path, and arrived about ten at night in a small village, through which we had passed three hours before. The gloom and pitchy darkness of an American forest at night, cannot be conceived by the inhabitants of an open country, and the traversing a narrow path interspersed with stumps and logs is both fatiguing and dangerous. Our horse seemed so well aware of this danger, that whenever the night set in, he could not be induced to move, unless one of us walked a little in advance before him, when he would rest his nose on our arm and then proceed. We crossed the Potoka to Princeton, a neat town, surrounded by a fast settling country, and so on to Harmony.