Wild Sports In The Far West
TextI took but little time to consider my route, and on the 1st November, a steamer from Lewiston, a small town on the Niagara river, carried me over to Toronto, where I remained the night, and started next morning by another steamer for Hamilton.
Hamilton is a pretty little town on Lake Ontario in Canada, and although only a short distance from the frontier of the United States, a great difference is perceptible as well in general appearance as in trifles. Most of the settlers in Canada consist of English, Scots, or Irish, who all keep to their national habits. I twisted my ankle at Hamilton, which laid me under the disagreeable necessity of remaining there till the morning of Saturday the 4th, when, recovered and joyful, I again sallied for the woods, pitying the poor people who were obliged to live in towns. From Hamilton I proceeded to Dundas, also on the Ontario, and from thence took a northerly direction towards Preston, turning aside, two miles short of the town, to visit New Hope, where dwelt, as I was told, an old German sportsman. I arrived safe and sound at New Hope on Sunday afternoon, and inquired for the abode of the old German, which I reached about dusk. He was not at home, but some half-dozen children of all ages and sizes, stared with their bright clear eyes at the stranger and his outlandish costume. The father and mother were gone to church; and the eldest daughter, a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, was teaching the little ones, some to read and others to spell, from an old well-thumbed catechism. I sat myself quietly in the corner to await the return of the parents, and listen to the tattle of the children.
At length the two heads of the family arrived, to the great joy of the little ones, who ran to meet them. The man presented so striking a likeness to one of my friends in Germany, that, in my astonishment, I hardly answered his friendly “Good evening.” After they had laid aside their church-going clothes, and made themselves comfortable, we sat ourselves near the stove, which in Canada often takes the place of the open fireplace, so hurtful to the eyes. The conversation turned mostly on farming and shooting. He seemed thoroughly to understand the first, and to be passionately fond of the latter. He was just the man for me. He spoke of the former abundance of game, which was fast disappearing through the increasing population, and he complained of the number of bunglers who infested the woods, frightening the game, and crippling the poor deer. He said he was very successful in turkey shooting, which is still the same sport as described by Cooper in his “Pioneer.”
When the night was far advanced, my host showed me to a sleeping place under the roof, where there was no want of fresh air – but I slept like a top. He had told me of a lake, not many miles off, where there would most likely be immense flocks of wild duck; so I was off at daylight in search of some. My new acquaintance had pointed out the direction in which I should find the lake; a path was out of the question, but I thought that I should be able to find it without looking at my compass, and stepped out boldly; but the wood was so thick and there were so many fallen trees, some lying one over the other, that the sun stood high, when, taking the compass out of my pocket, and by its help, making a straight course, I arrived at the lake. I saw plenty of wild-fowl, but perhaps frightened by others, they kept in the middle, very few venturing near the banks. This was out of my reckoning, but as the lake did not seem very large, I resolved on going round it. I had killed three ducks one after the other, and in my eagerness had forgotten how the hours flew by, till I suddenly observed that the sun was fast approaching the west. I now saw that it was not possible to pass round the lake before sunset, for as I came to the clearings, I perceived that as yet I had not gone half the way. Thick masses of cloud were gathering in the N. W., and the wind began to rustle and moan through the trees. I expected to be obliged to bivouac here, and slightly appeased my hunger with a bit of dry bread that I found in my pocket, for I had not had time to roast one of the ducks. The weather threatened worse and worse; in no pleasant humor I was walking slowly along the shore, when I found a canoe, made of a hollowed trunk, fastened to the root of a tree. I stepped in without the least compunction, and paddled to the opposite shore, distant about two miles and a half, directing my course by a large dead tree. The wind blew hard, and the waves tossed the rude awkward craft to such a degree that I was obliged to exert all my strength and skill to keep her even and to force her ahead. In the mean time it began to snow, so that I was soon as white as a miller, and had great difficulty in keeping my eye fixed on the dead tree, and thus preserving a direct course. At last I landed, secured the canoe, and looked out for a path towards some habitation. Before it became quite dark I had discovered a path, which being wet, the snow melted on it as it fell, leaving a dark line along the white ground.
Suddenly I heard a noise as if a whole herd of buffaloes were breaking through the forest, and almost before I could look round, a dark-colored horse passed at full speed, uttering a very remarkable scream of agony. A rider sat on his back, who looked behind him in the greatest alarm. I had hardly caught sight of them, as they passed so rapidly, when another horse, without a rider, rushed snorting after them. So sudden was it, that I should have taken it for a dream, if the footmarks in the snow had not convinced me of the reality. I did not long indulge in useless meditation on the cause of this nocturnal flight through the forest in mist and snow, and soon I was happy enough to find a wheel-track. After about an hour and a half’s walk, I saw a light in the distance, and in a short time knocked at the door of a small farm-house. A voice called out in German – “Who’s there?” It fell like balsam on all my organs, but more particularly on my stomach. The door was opened by the wife of a German wheelwright, whose husband had ridden into a village some miles off, and whose return was expected every moment. The warm stove restored my benumbed limbs to fresh life, which a cup of hot coffee served to heighten. The husband, a good-natured German, came back in the course of an hour. He had arrived in the country three years ago, without a farthing, and now he had a nice little house, a portion of land, and plenty of work. We went to bed about ten o’clock. It snowed heavily all night, so, in the hopes of good sport, I started early, and, as my host would not accept money, I left him the ducks I had killed yesterday. Loading my left barrel with buck-shot, and fixing fresh caps, I hastened out of the hot room, and inhaled in long draughts the fresh morning air.
After an hour’s march, and shooting nothing more than a pheasant and a rabbit, I was startled by seeing a man approach unlike any I had ever seen before. I soon found that he was a civilized Indian. He was dressed in a short woollen frock, blue cloth trowsers, with broad seams, mocassins on his feet, glass earrings in his ears, and on his head a red woollen shawl, wound like a turban, under which sparkled his dark fiery eyes, while his black straight hair hung over his temples. He carried the long American rifle, and had altogether a bold and romantic appearance. His Indian belt, ornamented with beads, held a tomahawk; and his powder-horn and shot-belt hung on his right side. After a short and friendly greeting, we attempted to converse, – but that was no easy matter, he speaking broken English, while I was, as yet, only partially acquainted with that language. On my asking him if he had seen any game, he pointed to the ground before him, showing the fresh trail of a bear in the snow, which I had not observed, as my attention had been drawn to him. He made signs for me to go with him, and I need hardly say that I followed him with a heart beating with joy and excitement. We may have gone about five miles, through marsh, moor, and bush, over hill and valley, and hundreds of fallen trees, constantly following the trail, when my silent comrade came to a halt, and pointing to a thick coppice, said, – “I believe we find him.” My excitement was now at its height; but the Indian directed me quietly to take my stand by a tree, while he went round the coppice to see if the trail was continued on the other side. I had in the mean time dropped a ball over the swan-shot, and eagerly watched every motion of the bush. It opened suddenly about fifty paces from me, and the bear, a dark brown fellow, walked out to seek his safety in flight. In an instant my ball with the swan-shot, was in his skin, and immediately after that the barrel of buck-shot. Perhaps surprised by the report of the gun, perhaps smarting from the buck-shot, Bruin stood for a moment snuffing the air, and then ran furiously towards me. A ball from the Indian’s rifle stopped his attempt to revenge himself, and stretched him dead upon the earth. The Indian cut down a young straight tree with his tomahawk, and having ripped open and cleaned out the bear, we bound his paws together, and, as he was not very large, slung him to the tree, and carried him to Preston, which was not very far off. We arrived in the evening, and my Indian friend sold the bear for four dollars. He would probably remain in Preston till he had spent it all in drink, and then take to the woods again for more game.
I began to find the climate too cold for me, and several Germans had told me that here it was much colder in winter than in our own country. I had no fancy for that, so turned south towards Lake Ontario, in order to get on to Buffalo. I shot a pheasant which gave me a delicate meal, and had hardly left the fire to recommence my march, when I saw seven wolves standing at a distance of about seventy yards. Without a moment’s consideration, I dropped lightly down in the snow to load one barrel with ball, fearing that I should not do much with No. 4 shot; but when I got up again the wolves had taken their leave. As they had fled towards the S. E., I thought of following, to try and get one or two of their scalps (government gives six dollars for a wolf’s scalp), but as the sun was getting low, and looked very red, I gave up the chase. I had seen several deer in the course of the day, but could not get a shot at them, and my stomach began to complain considerably. An American would have helped himself by shooting squirrels, of which there were plenty, but I hadn’t the heart to eat one of these happy little creatures. Luckily I shot a hare, and had now the comfort of being able to appease my hunger. It was out of the question to think of finding a house for the night, as I was no longer in a track, but in the thick of the forest, and so, before it became quite dark, I collected as much dry wood as I could, cleared away the snow from under a fallen tree, and lighted a fire beneath it, which soon blazed up merrily. When I had got comfortably warm, I set to work on my hare. I opened it, cleaned it out with snow as well as I could, and stuck it on a piece of wood before the fire, placing a piece of bark under it to catch the dripping, with which I basted it. I felt very much the want of salt and bread, but hunger is a good sauce. With the exception of the two legs, which I reserved for breakfast, I devoured the whole. When I had finished, I heaped more wood on the fire, and prepared to pass my first night in the open air in America. I laid my game-bag under my head, pulled my cap well over my ears, and with my feet to the fire was soon asleep. I slept soundly till the sharp morning air awoke me. The fire had burned out, and I was quite benumbed by the frost, and shook so that I could hardly light the fire again. At last I succeeded, and gradually thawed. The rising sun found me deep in consideration of my two legs of hare, which I looked at so long that at length I could see only the bones. After thus taking care of myself, I resumed my march southwards with fresh vigor, and about ten o’clock the crowing of a cock denoted that I was not very far from a human habitation. I hastened forward, and was soon saluted by the barking of dogs. The proprietor was in the forest, cutting wood for a fence. His wife, a pretty little American woman, treated me hospitably with bread and milk, and assured me that I was not above twenty miles from the Buffalo road, and that I should find plenty of farm-houses as I went south. She would not on any account accept payment for my refreshment, and so, with hearty thanks, and working my way through a legion of dogs, I sallied joyfully forth, making the Canadian woods resound with German songs.
On the following morning I reached the Buffalo road, lined on both sides with farms, and on which a sort of stage-coach runs. I was now again in the cultivated part of the country. Wheat is grown in large quantities, and answers very well, as do oats and barley; Indian corn does not attain the degree of perfection in which it is found further south. The ears were small, and most of those I saw had yellow grain.
About thirty miles from the town, I overtook a cattle dealer from the United States, who was on his road back. He seemed a good sort of fellow, and I resolved to travel the thirty miles in his company. We soon became acquainted. He had two enormously fat oxen, which he had bought in Canada, and a dreadfully thin horse, on which he kindly invited me to take turns to ride, as he would willingly walk a little.
A light but penetrating rain was falling, and the ride would not have been disagreeable, though the road had become slippery; only the good man was constantly offering the horse, while I was riding, to every person he met, and would have been glad to exchange it for a couple of cows. When tired, he mounted again, and I walked. He carried a book in his pocket containing a deeply affecting tragedy, and as soon as he was firmly fixed in the saddle, he invariably took it out, and began to declaim, holding the book in his left hand, and gesticulating vehemently with his right, in which he brandished his long cattle whip. Whenever the more interesting parts of the tragedy occasioned an extra forcible movement of the right arm, and with it of the whip so formidable to the oxen, an implement on which they kept a constant watch, they started on one side or ran back, and only the prosaic “Quiet there! Gently!” &c., &c., uttered in a pathetic tone, brought back the horned audience to their duty.
On the evening of the 11th of November, I came a second time to the Falls of Niagara, and could now admire their grandeur and majesty from the Canadian side. From thence a beautiful road runs along the Niagara river to Lake Erie. The road itself is good and dry; on the left the glorious wide river, shaded with trees of the original dark forest, on the right a succession of prosperous farms, with excellent orchards; altogether a most enchanting prospect. The whole distance appeared scarcely more than a few paces. A few miles from Buffalo I crossed a ferry worked by horses in a large perpendicular wheel, and was now in the United States again. What I saw of Canada, showed me that it is, at least this part of it, a beautiful and fertile country, with a healthy, though very cold climate, too cold to suit me. It produces excellent corn, but except in the thickly inhabited parts, sheep and pigs do not succeed on account of the numerous wolves. Many Canadian farmers assured me that the bite of a wolf was like that of a venomous reptile to these animals, and that however slightly they may have been bitten, they are sure to die. But perhaps these deaths may have been caused by the bites of rabid wolves.
It was Sunday afternoon when I stepped into the public room of the “William Tell,” in Buffalo, and seated myself in a corner to rest. The eyes of several respectable German operatives, who were all in hot political debate, were at first attracted with astonishment towards the armed stranger, but soon following up their dispute they forgot all listeners, and I think it might very likely have come to more than words, if the host, a little fat figure, had not rolled himself in amongst them, and restored peace with the conciliatory words: “You are all as foolish as so many stockfish.” In these words, the equality of persons was proclaimed, and their feelings were pacified. It was, however, no trifle that formed the subject of their dispute; for an honest shoemaker would by no means allow that the English could send any troops over, on account of the disturbances in Canada, because the Russian was sitting across their necks. A cabinet-maker, seated opposite to him, maintained that Russia was too far off from England to be able to make war so quickly; but the shoemaker proved to him so clearly that Russia was close to England on the north, and that there was only a broad strip of land between the two Principalities, that the astonished cabinet-maker was silenced by the overwhelming amount of solid learning; the shoemaker admitted that the march from Russia to England was difficult, as the soldiers had sometimes to wade up to their shoulders in sand. Whence the good man had obtained his idea of a march through sand, and his geographical knowledge, is more than I can say, but the debate was amusing enough; and when the shoemaker appealed to me for my opinion, I agreed with him of course, but told him that the Russians intended to lay down bear-skins on the sand to make the march easier, upon which he exclaimed, in astonishment, “What desperate fellows!”
I was up early on the following morning in order to see the town; it is a very pretty place, and contains many Germans; it must become, and in fact is already, the central point of all the interior commerce of the north, for railroads, canals, steamers, and sailing vessels rival each other in bringing and taking away produce.
CHAPTER III
OHIO – INDIANA – ILLINOIS – MISSOURI
Lake Erie – Cleveland – Double-beds – March through the forest – Canton – Cincinnati – Lawrencebourg – A burning forest – Deserted farm-house – Wet weather and swollen rivers – A drunken companion – Versailles – Intrepid German Jews – Vincennes – Fording a river – The prairies of Illinois – Shooting deer – Salem – An Illinois settler – Lebanon – Ague – Passage of the Mississippi – St. Louis – German emigrants – A week’s work in the forest – Lead mines of Missouri – Courant river, the boundary of Missouri.
About noon the steamer “North America” left for Cleveland, in Ohio State, and with it my worthy self. There was such a number of passengers in the steerage, that it was hardly possible to move, and the state of affairs was made worse by each of the American ladies1 having a short pipe in her mouth. Yet worse was coming. Lake Erie, under the influence of a strong breeze, began to get very rough in its treatment of the boat; one pipe after another was extinguished, and the visages lengthened and whitened very suspiciously. I observed this change with horror, and took refuge in one of the uppermost of three rows of sleeping berths, to be out of range of shot.
It was dark when we arrived at Cleveland, and I stood on the shore in some difficulty, not knowing exactly where to look for shelter, when a young German, who, by the light of a lantern, recognized me by my costume for a fellow countryman, asked me if I would like to pass the night in a German house: on my quickly agreeing to it, he led me to one, some hundred yards off, where I soon went to bed. The beds in America are all double, that is to say, so wide as easily to hold three, and indeed I have sometimes made a fourth. I was shown into this abode of dreams by a little hump-backed youth, and on my asking if I could sleep alone there, he replied that perhaps some stranger might come by the stage-coach. Towards midnight I was disturbed by a noise, and thought to myself “Oh, oh, here comes the stranger;” and as I was not yet accustomed to this American fashion, I took the trouble to look up to see what my bedfellow was like, and had the felicity to see that a negro as black as pitch was preparing his ebony members to occupy part of my bed. I moved to the extreme edge, leaving at least two-thirds of the space to this son of the night. I was at this time but little acquainted with American habits, and if this had happened to me later, the landlord would not have had a whole bone in his skin; for it is the greatest insult to a white man in North America, and more particularly in the slave states, to place a negro on equal terms with him.
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.