Crops of wheat here are very good; and the best of the land produces from 40 to 60 bushels of corn an acre without manure. Indeed manure is never used here. In time, however, the natural fertility of the soil will become less; and farmers would do well, even here, to yard their cattle.
At present, provisions in this part of the country [96] command a high price. The numerous emigrations thither produce a scarcity. Along the south shore of Lake Erie the markets will, for some time to come, be very good. Depos of provisions are established here by the farmers of New-York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio; and vessels on the Lake transport them, during the spring and fall, to Detroit and other places. Although the cultivator, in the immediate vicinity of Detroit, meets with every encouragement, agriculture there is very little attended to; the consequence is, that produce to a large amount finds, from abroad, a ready market in that place.
I now consider myself in that part of the state of Ohio which lies west of the Connecticut Reserve.
Of considerable portions of the country, which are situated between the Huron and Sandusky rivers, I entertain a favourable opinion; other parts of it, however, are too swampy for cultivation. There are many fine tracts from the Pennsylvania line to the last mentioned place.
The Deer in the vicinity of the prairies, of which I have been speaking, are very large. Some of them weigh from 150 to 200 pounds. Wild turkeys too, are here numerous, and they sometimes weigh from 20 to 30 pounds. But facts like these unduly affect the imagination. These kinds of game cannot always be found; the toils of the chase are frequently unrewarded; and many who have settled in the west with lively feelings upon this topic, have abandoned this precarious source of profit.
For several days I have been employed in crossing vast prairies. The weather continued moderate, the snow, water, and mud were deep, and wading laborious. I frequently met with considerable freshets, and the banks of the creeks were overflown. Here I saw vast flocks of wild geese flying towards [97] Sandusky Bay. Their hoarse notes, proceeding from the misty air, rendered even more solitary a trackless and almost illimitable plain of high and coarse grass. I was repeatedly lost in these prairies; and found it necessary to calculate my way by compass and maps.
Within about twenty miles of the famous Black Swamp,[[87]] I entered, late in the afternoon, a dark wood in a low and wet situation. The weather being moderate, I continued to travel until very late in the evening. About 12 o’clock at night my dogs contended with a herd of wolves and were both slain. The winter, until within a few days, having been very severe, the wolves, probably, were very hungry and ferocious. It is said, that in this part of the country they are very numerous and bold. From the manner in which the contest commenced, I am inclined to believe, that the wolves, having issued from their dens, had come to feast themselves. Previous to the rencounter, all was perfect silence. My dogs were near me, and without the least noise, which I could perceive, the war commenced. It was sudden and furious.
I had, for hours, been experiencing a most excruciating tooth-ache; and my sense of hearing was considerably affected by it. But when the contest began, I, for a moment, forgot my infirmities, seized my gun, encouraged my dogs, and marched forth in the most lively expectation of achieving some great victory. It being, however, very dark, the bushes being thick, and the voice of the battle beginning to die upon my ear, a sense of my sufferings returned, and I sought repose in my tent. But I found no repose there: the whole night was employed in endeavouring to assuage with gun powder and salt, the only applications in my power, an almost insufferable tooth-ache.
[98] My dogs never returned from the strife. I had lost the faithful, and disinterested partners of my toil. I could not leave so interesting a place. For two nights and one day I remained upon the spot;—but for what, I did not know. In the listlessness of sorrow I fired my rifle into the air. At length I realized, that my dogs had fallen nobly; and the sentiments of grief found a solace in the dictates of pride.
As the fate of my dogs is interesting I may be permitted to spend a moment in their praise.