Wild Sports In The Far West

I was up before day, and, according to custom, went out to have a look at the town. From Cleveland I set off along the canal that goes to Portsmouth, on the river Ohio, intending to visit my fellow passenger by the “Constitution,” the apothecary Vogel, at the village of Canton. I shot several wild-fowl and a few hares as I went along, and found a bed at a New Englander’s, who gave me a hospitable reception. I was much amused by a little German maid, who had only lately left her home, and understood very little English, but as she spoke Low German, they managed to make out what each party wanted; they had a great regard for her, as she was very industrious.

It was the 17th of November when I arrived at the agreeable little town of Canton, situated in the middle of the forest. Some of the buildings were in very good taste. My friend was not here, and I learned that he lived in Cincinnati; so I decided on seeking him there, and, having nothing to detain me in Canton, I set off again the same evening.

Ohio is very extensively cultivated, and the journey through such a succession of fields was rather monotonous; there was a farm-house to be seen nearly every half hour, yet here and there was a pretty bit of forest, as I found rather too soon. About a hundred miles from Cincinnati I was overtaken one evening by a heavy penetrating rain, and was soon wet through and through. I was anxious to find shelter, and was travelling a well-frequented road, when all at once it divided into three; I chose the most beaten, and pushed on through mud and mire, till I came to a wood, where all further traces of a road vanished, leaving me cold and wet in the forest. A fire was out of the question. I was not inclined to return, as the other roads might also lead to the forest; so I made my way through the shrubs and bushes, which could not make me more wet than I was already. I sank down from fatigue at times, but, after a few moments’ rest, roused myself to fresh efforts. At length, like a port to a ship in a storm, I saw a light through the branches. I hastened, as fast as my tired legs would carry me, in that direction, and soon came to a fence, and shortly afterwards to a farm-house. The farmer looked at first rather shyly at the dripping wet traveller, who requested entrance so late in the night; but the customary hospitality did not let him hesitate long, and a warm fire, with a quickly prepared supper, considerably refreshed my stiff and weary limbs.

I arrived at Cincinnati, the largest town in Ohio, on the river of that name, on the 26th of November, without further adventures, and found my friend the apothecary quite well; the hearty pleasure he expressed on seeing me was ample reward for the trouble I had taken to find him, and I passed some happy days in his society. I was much pleased with the fine town of Cincinnati, the “Queen of the West,” as the Americans call it. It is the centre of commerce of the West, and owes its rapid rise and prosperity to its connection by steamers and railroads with the seaports on the east coast, by canal with Lake Erie and the St. Lawrence, and by the Ohio and Mississippi with New Orleans. From Cincinnati I made short shooting excursions into Kentucky, though with little success, obtaining at most a few hares, and some of the small American partridges, with now and then a wild duck.

On the 6th of December I bid adieu to the agreeable town of Cincinnati, and on the same evening arrived at the border of the State, formed by the little river Miami: I slept there, and crossed over into Indiana on the following morning. Two miles further I reached the little town of Lawrencebourg, on the Ohio, and inquired the nearest way to St. Louis; a question which no one could answer, as they said they never knew of any one travelling hundreds of miles on foot, when they could go so easily by the steamers. At last, with much trouble, I learnt something of the direction, and set off on the journey. I got a good dinner at a farmer’s in return for a hare I had shot, and passed the night in a solitary house with some very worthy people.

The 8th of December was a fine day for a walk, and the evening was mild and agreeable. I was walking on at a good pace, when a farmer told me as I passed his house that I should find a mill about six or seven miles further on, where I could pass the night; the sun was already low in the heavens. I was in the midst of a thick wood when it became dark, and no mill to be seen; after some time it was somewhat lighter, and I had no fear of losing my way; moreover, the temperature was very agreeable, and in case of necessity, I should not have minded camping out, or sleeping in the forest. At length I saw a light at some distance through the trees, and the hopes of a warm bed and cup of hot coffee produced a good effect upon my European system, as yet unweaned from these luxuries. As I advanced, the lights became brighter and more numerous, and I did not know what to think. Was it a town, or an Indian camp before me? To put an end to the uncertainty I hurried on, particularly as my right road lay in that direction, and soon I stood before a burning forest, blazing up gloriously in the dark night, making the background still darker, and giving a ghost-like appearance to the trees on the right and left. This new scene was too wonderful and imposing for me to hurry past it; so I sat down on one of the fallen scorched trunks to enjoy the awfully sublime prospect. I may have remained sitting looking on for about half an hour, when, about twenty paces from me, a blazing oak fell with a heavy hollow sound, sending glowing charcoal, burning branches, and thousands of sparks in all directions. This was rather too near to be pleasant, so I turned to seek another road through the forest, which appeared now so much darker than before, on account of the brilliant light I had just been gazing on.

There seemed to be no end to the forest, and I began to think that the mill existed only in the good farmer’s imagination, when I heard a sound of rushing water, and, later, the lowing of a cow. I turned off in the direction of the sound, first taking the precaution to light a fire, that I might retrace my steps in case I lost my way. About half a mile brought me within sight of a dwelling; on coming nearer I discovered a milldam, and several cows standing about the fence saluted the new comer with a long-drawn friendly low. I joyfully shook the dust from my feet, and knocked at the low door: all was as silent as the grave. I knocked again – nothing moved – no voice called a welcome “come in.” After knocking three times, I was accustomed to open the door; I pushed this open in rather ill-humor, and found – a deserted house, with all as still as death. The stars shone through a hole in the roof, the chimney had fallen in. It causes a shudder to see a place deserted that you expect to find occupied by an industrious family: I closed the door, and sprang over the fence, leaving the building to its mournful solitude.

The fire I had lighted was nearly burnt out, but I found it again, and followed hastily my former path. After about another hour’s walk, I heard the bark of a dog, and confiding with a joyful heart in this sure sign of an approach to a human habitation, I stepped out quickly to the long-sought mill. Dogs bayed, the wheel clattered, a bright light shone through all the crevices of the loghouse, and everything showed that I should soon find shelter for the night; – and in a few minutes I was comfortably seated in the chimney corner.

My host was a kindly, good-humored man, had lived some years in Indiana, and was in good circumstances. After a delicious supper, he led me out of the house, and said, “I will show you a little chap, such as you never saw before in your life.” He kept his word. Under an inverted tub was a gray animal, about the size of a cat, but thicker in the body, with short legs, head and muzzle like a fox, or rather, more like a colossal rat, with ugly finger-like claws, and a tail about a foot long, devoid of hair. These creatures are constantly on the look-out for fowls, and make great havoc amongst the farmers’ poultry. The Americans, and sometimes the immigrant Germans, eat the flesh and esteem it a delicacy. The miller made no ceremony with his prisoner, and, after killing it, he cut off its claws and tail, skinned it, washed it, and prepared it for cooking, telling me it would serve for a delicate breakfast; but I could not make up my mind to eat an animal looking so much like a rat.

It rained hard all night, giving me a sorry prospect for my next day’s journey; nevertheless, I rose early, and took leave of the miller on purpose to escape his “delicate breakfast.”

The ground was soft and slippery, and it was not without reason that I had feared the swelling of the mountain streams; yet, trusting in my fortune, I went on in good spirits. About ten o’clock it began to rain again pretty sharply, and about noon I came to a rapid, roaring mountain stream, which rushed towards the Ohio, carrying some large trees along with it. Here it was necessary to reflect on what was best to be done, for though I could have swum across, it would have been extremely disagreeable, as I had no change of clothing, and the water was considerably colder than the air. After wandering for some miles up and down the river in search of means to cross it, night came on, and I was obliged to camp in the wood. After kindling a good fire, I went to sleep, lulled by the sound of the water, but waking up now and then, thinking I might receive a visit from some wild beast.

On the following morning I was early on my legs, and examined the river. Like all these mountain streams, it had risen rapidly, and fallen as quickly, having considerably abated in the course of the night. I had already resolved on trying the passage, when I saw two horsemen coming down the hill towards me. My difficulties were now at an end; one of them took me up behind, and I was landed all dry on the other side.

I kept on along the somewhat inclined road, sometimes slipping, sometimes sinking deep in mud, abusing all American roads and American weather, when, not very far from the little town of Versailles, I saw a man with a rifle coming down the hill towards me. He did not seem to be keeping a very steady course, and when we came nearer, I saw clearly that I had not made a great mistake in supposing him to be very drunk. When he came up to me, he winked with his glassy eyes, and shook me heartily by the hand: so far so good: but when he caught sight of a bottle I had slung by my side, he made a sudden grasp at it; however, I was too quick for him, and, like a bear defending her cubs, I wrenched it out of his hand, and then, with the most imperturbable look in the world, I said “That is not for you,” and placed it in my pocket. He yielded to his fate; but, seeing my double-barrelled gun, he wanted to examine it closer, and to have a shot with it. By this time I had had enough of it, and would not trust him, so I turned on my heel and continued my journey. He called out “Stop!” I took no notice; again he called out, “Stop!” and I distinctly heard him cock his rifle. I turned instantly, taking my gun from my shoulder, but too late; his ball went whistling just over my head, and the echo repeated the sharp crack of his rifle. I now lost all patience, and snatching the whalebone ramrod out of my gun, I ran after him, caught him by the collar, pulled him down, and belabored him with the pliant ramrod, till only a few inches of it were left, he roaring “Mur – der!” “Mur – der!” all the while with might and main. I must acknowledge that I felt some satisfaction as I left him lying smarting in the mud.

Towards evening I passed through Versailles, where I procured a new ramrod. What a piece of irony to call such a place Versailles! but it is a custom of the Americans to give high-sounding names to their little settlements. Already in the State of New York, I had passed through Syracuse, Babylon, Rome, Venice, Alexandria, London, and Paris – villages of seven or eight houses.

I arrived about the 11th December at Friedmann’s farm. The proprietor was a German in good circumstances in Indiana: his property, though not large, was very productive, and his cattle were very fine. He was the only German settler whom I fell in with in my march through Indiana, although there are several in that state. The sound of my mother tongue fell doubly sweet on my ear after so long a privation. I remained to dinner, and then set off in good spirits, on a road which improved as I advanced, towards Vincennes on the Wabash.

Towards evening on the 12th, I came to a large, clean-looking house, and when I went in to ask if I could have a bed, I found two German Jews sitting comfortably by the fire, who looked at me with astonishment, and, as it seemed to me, with displeasure. The host was an elderly man, whose grandfather and grandmother had emigrated from Germany; he spoke very good German, and was uncommonly friendly, and we chatted away together the whole evening. The two Israelites had in the mean time been whispering a great deal together; at length one of them brought his chair nearer to mine, and began asking several questions, which I readily answered; amongst others, if I should start early in the morning, and which way I intended to go? why I carried a gun and hunting knife? &c. It struck me that they were not very courageous, and I resolved to have a joke with them: I first asked if they carried on a good business? what sort of wares they had in their two large packs; if they had any articles of gold? if they meant to leave early? which road they intended to take? if they would have far to go through the forest, before they came to another farm? The Jew anxiously parried all these questions, while his companion sat by without speaking a word; but when I asked if they had made much money, they both called out in a scream, “We have got no money at all;” so that I was obliged to bite my lip to prevent a burst of laughter.

I was disturbed several times in the night by the squabbling of the Israelites about the best place in their common bed. On waking up at early dawn I saw that the birds were flown. When I descended to my host, the two large packs and the two Jews had disappeared; on my inquiring after them, he told me that they had started before daylight with as little noise as possible. I laughed heartily, and told him the whole history, which tickled him amazingly.

The road from this house was at first pretty good, but it rained hard. When I came to the flat country in the neighborhood of Vincennes it was full of pools, and on arriving on the prairie, about a mile from that town, the whole space between it and me was one sheet of water. Night coming on, it would have been impossible for me to find my way but for occasional lights in the town, towards which I directed my steps, sometimes over my knees in water, and arrived about seven o’clock in Vincennes, which had not much to boast of as to dryness. The night was dark as pitch, as I groped my way along the unlighted streets in search of quarters. A pair of lonely oxen standing in the street looked at me pathetically, and lowed as I passed close by them. A short distance from them I found the house I wanted: it belonged to a Pennsylvanian German, who kept a tavern. I was soon in front of a warm refreshing fire, which, in my present condition, was what I stood most in need of. As soon as I was well warmed, I took a survey of the neighborhood. Around me was a set of regular conventional faces, with American indifference stamped on the countenances of all the company, who, having finished their meal, were sitting round the fire, rocking in their chairs, and picking their teeth. But amongst them I perceived fixed upon me the glances of a pair of real German looking eyes. I addressed their owner, and found that I had not been mistaken; he was a German smith and mason, and a very well educated man for his station. We sat talking together by the fire till late in the night. In the heat of conversation, he repeated some of his own poetry, which I listened to patiently, in return for his kind attempts to amuse me. He had been a long time in America, and had suffered much, without gaining much experience, being one of those good-natured souls, who are unwilling to take advantage of others, though often imposed upon themselves.

It rained in torrents during the night, but cleared up towards morning, and began to freeze. On going down to the river I met some horsemen, who had returned from the other side, and declared that it was not possible to proceed; for not only was the water very deep, but the ice on the surface was so thick, that it would have cut the horses in breaking through it. For a moment I was undecided: I could not stay in Vincennes, because my small supply of money would not admit of great outlay, and I had yet a considerable distance to travel. I went down to the ferry, but the ferrymen also strongly advised me to remain at Vincennes, as the road was quite impassable: however I was obstinate, and crossed the ferry.

The ground was dry close to the river, but I was stopped by the water further on. I persisted till noon, trying to find a passage, and upon a tolerably empty stomach, for I had eaten little more for the last twenty-four hours than a bit of bread and cheese. Yet I made no progress, so I resolved to dash at it, and wade through the water to some houses about two miles off, where the ferrymen had told me I should find dry ground. At first it was only up to my knees, and my water-proof boots kept me dry; but it soon became deeper and deeper. I was obliged to fasten my gamebag on my shoulder, and wade along, sometimes up to the waist, and sometimes up to the chest in the cold element, all the while having to break the ice in front of me with the butt of my gun. It took four hours to do the two miles, and only the conviction that I must either break through the ice or drown, gave me force to carry out my resolution. At length I reached a fence, and stepped on dry ground. I endeavored to climb over in vain; my lower garments and limbs were frozen too hard. I was obliged to pull down a part of it to make a passage, and it was not till I had been more than an hour by the fire that I was thawed enough to be able to move freely.

The continuation of the road was dry, with one short exception; and the next house that I came to was quite a harbor of refuge for this night, as I was much in need of rest and refreshment.

I now for the first time saw the wide prairies which extend through Illinois, and present a dismal prospect in this cold season. The long waving yellow grass gives a melancholy tint to the picture; the wide spread straw-colored surface, fringed by a forest in the distant horizon, depresses the spirits. The frost had set in again, so that at least I could follow my route with dry feet, and at a good pace. The first head of large game that I fell in with was a buck, making long jumps through the high grass, and putting up large flocks of prairie fowl, which flew to some distance before they settled. In the house where I passed the night, I gave my gun a thorough cleaning, and put it in good condition. On the following morning, about eight o’clock, I came to the Fox river, where I found two houses. To my astonishment, this also was a town, and called Waterton. A very pretty American woman, who kept a sort of tavern, set bread and milk with wild honey before me. She tried hard to persuade me to settle here, and, if possible, induce other Germans to do so; but my water excursion was still too fresh in my memory for me to take a fancy to the place, although it appeared to be a land of milk and honey, for enormous herds of cattle were pasturing in the prairies, and wild honey was very abundant.

I was so refreshed by my meal, that I went on my way with the springing step of a sedan-chairman. I had indulged in the agreeable idea of a dry road, but found myself wofully deceived, for as the little Wabash had overflowed its banks, I had about two miles to wade through water. The road lay along rather high ground, and was clear of ice, but there was plenty of it between the trees on the lower levels. As I approached the end of the watery path, and could see dry land in front of me, I heard something rustling through the water, and crashing the ice: I looked round, and beheld five deer coming towards me with long bounds. I stood quite still, awaiting their approach with a beating heart; a noble buck and four does were passing about fifty paces from me. I aimed at the leader; he made a spring into the air, and fell dead. I had some trouble to bring my buck to land; for although the American deer are smaller than the German red deer, yet the one I had shot weighed at least 140 pounds. I cut him up, skinned him, lopped a branch from a tree, made a bag of the skin with the hair outwards, put the two legs and back into it, then hanging the rest on a tree for any new comer, I trudged away with my burden for a couple of miles to the village of Maysville. Here I sold my prize, and passed the night, starting on the following morning across a twelve-mile prairie.

A cutting north-wester blew from the great lakes, so that my quickest pace hardly sufficed to keep me warm. After passing through a small wood, and surmounting a hill, I came to another little town, called Salem. On the 21st of December I had another prairie, twenty-two miles wide, before me: though still very cold, it was good walking over the hard frozen ground. In the evening I arrived at a farmhouse, where I passed the night. Just as I came to the house, the farmer was leading his horse by the bridle into the sitting-room, which I should have taken for the stable, had I not seen smoke issuing from the chimney. Full of curiosity, I followed my host into his little dwelling, and here the riddle was explained. He had been hauling wood, and he had fastened his horse to a log about eight feet long, to draw it into the house; then he rolled it to the fire-place, which took up nearly one whole side of the little block-house, and as he could not conveniently turn the horse on account of tables, chairs, and beds, he had made an opening on the side opposite the door, in order to lead him out again. I had shot several prairie birds in the course of the day, and they afforded us a delicate supper. They are very numerous in these wide plains, and I have seen flocks of from 600 to 700 of them. They are about the size of our domestic fowls, but with a longer neck, and have a tail like a partridge; their color is an ashy gray. I shot only one gray prairie wolf; they are much smaller than the black wolves, and very shy.

On the 23rd of December I arrived at Lebanon, a little hamlet on a hill about twenty miles from St. Louis. My thoughts turned involuntarily to the gigantic cedars; the highest tree on this mountain of Lebanon was the tavern sign-post. Next day I had a march of thirty-two miles: as the usually soft ground was now frozen hard, the route was very rough, and hurt my feet; yet I pushed on, and in the afternoon arrived in the valley of the Mississippi, or, as they call it opposite St. Louis, the “American bottom;” it is considered the most productive land in the United States. The vegetable mould must be from fifty to sixty feet deep; but it is low, and in consequence wet, and therefore unhealthy.

During my progress through Illinois I heard constant complaints of ague, particularly from the Germans; it is very prevalent all the summer, and even in winter they are not always free from it. The pale countenances of all, especially of the children, bore too strong evidence that the complaint was well founded.

At length, after sunset, I arrived on the eastern bank of the Mississippi, and heard to my great vexation that the river was so full of ice, that it was utterly impossible to get across. At any rate it was not to be thought of for this evening, so that I was obliged to pass another night in Illinois. Very tired with my long journey, I went early to bed. I was awakened in the night by a fresh arrival, who threw himself right upon me. I moved a little to one side, while he took up the middle of the bed; I should have had room enough if the stranger had not been very restless. Now as I did not like the idea of being disturbed all the rest of the night, it was necessary to obtain peace in some way or other; so, drawing myself up like a hedgehog, and planting my shoulder against his side, and my feet against the wall, before he could imagine what I was about, I sent him with a sudden jerk into the middle of the room, and then coolly told him the conditions on which I would let him come into bed again. As the night was too cold to admit of his sleeping on the floor, he agreed to all I required, and remained quiet for the rest of the night.