University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

Our return to Detroit was accomplished without any
serious accident, although we were once overturned in
consequence of my enthusiastic admiration of a tuft of
splendid flowers in a marsh which we were crossing by
the usual bridge of poles, or corduroy as it is here
termed.

While our eyes were fixed upon it, and I was secretly
determining not to go on without it, our sober steed,
seeing a small stream at a little distance on one side,
quietly walked towards it, and our attention was withdrawn
from the contemplation of the object of my
wishes by finding ourselves spilt into the marsh, and
the buggy reposing on its side, while the innocent
cause of the mischief was fairly planted, fetlock deep,
in the tenacious black-mud: I say the innocent cause,
for who ever expected any proofs of education from a
livery-stable beast?—and such was our brown friend.

'T were vain to tell how I sat on the high bog, (the

large tufted masses in a marsh are so called in Michigan,)
which had fortunately received me in falling, and
laughed till I cried to see my companion hunting for
his spectacles, and D'Orsay (whom I ought sooner to
have introduced to my reader) looking on with a face
of most evident wonder. D'Orsay, my beautiful grey-hound,
was our compagnon de voyage, and had caused
us much annoyance by his erratic propensities, so that
we were obliged to tie him in the back part of the buggy,
and then watch very closely that he did not free
himself of his bonds.

Just at this moment a pedestrian traveller, a hard-featured,
yellow-haired son of New England, came up,
with a tin trunk in his hand, and a small pack or knap-sack
strapped on his shoulders.

“Well! I swan!” said he with a grim smile, “I
never see any thing slicker than that! Why, you
went over jist as easy! You was goin' to try if the
mash wouldn't be softer ridin', I s'pose.”

Mr. Clavers disclaimed any intention of quitting the
causeway, and pointed to my unfortunate pyramid of
pale pink blossoms as the cause of our disaster.

“What! them posies? Why, now, to my thinking,
a good big double marygold is as far before them
pink lilies as can be: but I'll see if I can't get 'em for
you if you want 'em.”

By this time, the carriage was again in travelling
trim, and D'Orsay tolerably resigned to his imprisoned
state. The flowers were procured, and most delicately
beautiful and fragrant they were.

Mr. Clavers offered guerdon-remuneration, but our

oriental friend seemed shy of accepting any thing of
the sort.

“If you've a mind to trade, I've got a lot o' notions
I 'd like to sell you,” said he.

So my travelling basket was crammed with essences,
pins, brass thimbles, and balls of cotton; while Mr.
Clavers possessed himself of a valuable outfit of pocket-combs,
suspenders, and cotton handkerchiefs—an
assortment which made us very popular on that road
for some time after.

We reached the city in due time, and found our hotel
crowded to suffocation. The western fever was
then at its height, and each day brought its thousands
to Detroit. Every tavern of every calibre was as well
filled as ours, and happy he who could find a bed any
where. Fifty cents was the price of six feet by two of
the bar-room floor, and these choice lodgings were
sometimes disposed of by the first served at “thirty
per cent. advance.” The country inns were thronged
in proportion; and your horse's hay cost you nowhere
less than a dollar per diem; while, throughout the whole
territory west of Detroit, the only masticable articles
set before the thousands of hungry travellers were salt
ham and bread, for which you had the satisfaction of
paying like a prince.