University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

The morning sun showed the river and its adjunct
bright and beautiful, though a leetle marshy at the
sides. The dead silence, the utter loneliness, the impenetrable
shade, which covered the site of the future
city, might well call to mind the desolation which has
settled on Tadmor and Palmyra; the anticipation of future
life and splendour contrasting no less forcibly with
the actual scene than would the retrospect of departed
grandeur. The guide, who had been much employed
in these matters, showed in the course of the day six
different points, each of which, the owners were fully
satisfied, would one day echo the busy tread of thousands,
and see reflected in the now glassy wave the
towers and masts of a great commercial town. If already
this infatuation seems incredible, how shall we
make our children believe its reality?

The day was to be spent in exploring, and as it was
desirable to see as much as could be seen of the river so
important to the future fortunes of the company, it was
concluded to follow the bank as closely as the marshes
would allow, and pass the night at the house of a French
trader near the outlet of the stream.

The spirits of the party were not very high during
the ride. There was something a little cooling in the
aspect of the marshes, and, although nobody liked to
say so, the ground seemed rather wet for city building.
However, the trader's dwelling looked very comfortable
after the accommodations of the preceding night,
and a few Indian huts at no great distance gave some
relief to the extreme solitariness of the scene, which
had contributed not a little to the temporary depression
of the party.

The Frenchman was luckily at home, and with his
Indian wife treated the travellers with much civility:
the lady, however, declining conversation, or indeed notice
of any sort unless when called on to perform the
part of interpreter between the gentlemen and some
wretched looking Indians who were hanging about the
house. Several children with bright, gazelle-like eyes,
were visible at intervals, but exhibited nothing of the
staring curiosity which is seen peeping from among the
sun-bleached locks of the whiter broods of the same class
of settlers.

The Indians to whom I have alluded, had come to
procure whiskey of the trader, and after they had received
the baleful luxury which performs among their
fated race the work of fire, famine and pestilence, they
departed with rapid steps. They had scarcely quitted

the house when another was seen approaching the door
with that long easy trot which is habitual with the
savage when on a journey. He was well dressed, in
his way; his hat boasted a broad band of silver lace;
his tunic, leggins and moccasins were whole and somewhat
ornamented; his blanket glorying in a bright red
border; and on his shoulders, slung by a broad thong,
was a pack of furs of considerable value. He seemed
an old acquaintance of the family, and was received
with some animation even by the grave and dignified
mistress of the mansion. The trader examined and
counted the skins, spoke to the Indian in his own
tongue, and invited him to eat, which however he declined,
with a significant gesture towards the huts before
alluded to.

This evening's supper was made quite luxurious by
the preserved cranberries and maple syrup furnished by
the settlers; and our friends retired to rest in much
more comfortable style than on the preceding night.

The first nap was in all its sweetness, when the
whole party were aroused by a hideous yelling, which
to city ears could be no less than an Indian war-whoop.
Every one was on foot in an instant; and the confusion
which ensued in the attempt to dress in the dark
was most perplexing and would have been amusing
enough but for certain unpleasant doubts. The noise
continued to increase as it approached the house, and
terror had reached its acmé,—every one catching at
something which could be used as a weapon; when a
violent knocking at the door aroused the trader, who
slept in an inner room or closet, and who had not been
disturbed by the bustle within doors or the yelling without.

He seemed much surprised at the confusion
which reigned among his guests—assured them it was
“noting at all” but the Indians coming for more whiskey;
and then admitting one of them, and coolly
shutting the door in the face of the rest, spoke to the
desperate looking savage very sharply, evidently reprobating
in no gentle terms the uproar which had disturbed
the sleepers.

The Indian made scarce any reply, but pointed with
an impatient gesture to the keg, repeating “Whiskey!
whiskey!” till the trader re-filled it; he then departed
leaving our party once more to repose.

The next morning, much was said of the disturbance
of the night. The Frenchman seemed to look upon it
as a thing of course, and unblushingly vindicated his
own agency in the matter. He said that they would
get whiskey from some one—that an Indian could not
live without it, and that they would pay honestly for
what they got, although they would steal anything they
could lay their hands on, from the farmers who lived
within reach of their settlements. Bitter complaints
he said were often made of corn, potatoes, or cucumbers
being spirited away in the night, and the Indians
got the blame at least, but from him they took nothing.
His lady listened with no pleased aspect to this discussion
of the foibles of her countrymen, and seemed
quite willing to expedite the departure of the guests.

The way to the “Grand Junction” seemed shortened
as they went. The day was fine and the ponies in
excellent spirits. The sportsman came very near
shooting a fat buck, and this miss kept him in talk for
all day. The old gentlemen were much pleased with

certain statistical accounts furnished them by the trader,
whom they decided on the whole to be a very sensible
fellow: and when they reached once more the
chosen spot, they saw at a glance how easily the marshes
could be drained, the channel of the Shark deepened,
and the whole converted into one broad area on
which to found a second New-York.

They passed another night at the log hut which had
first received them, and leaving with the poor couple
who inhabited it, what cheered their lonely dwelling for
many a day, they returned to Detroit.

Our friends considered the offers which had been
made them so very advantageous that the bargain for
the site at the “Grand Junction” was concluded the
very next day. “Only one hundred shares at three
hundred dollars each!” the money might be quadrupled
in a month. And some of the knowing ones, who
took shares “merely to oblige,” did realize the golden
vision, while the more careful, who held on to get the
top of the market—but why should I tell secrets?

Nobody happened to mention to these eastern
buyers that the whole had been purchased for four
hundred dollars, just a week before they reached Detroit.

These things certainly cost a good deal of trouble
after all. They ought to have paid well, unquestionably.
When lots were to be sold, the whole fair dream
was splendidly emblazoned on a sheet of super-royal
size; things which only floated before the mind's eye
of the most sanguine, were portrayed with bewitching
minuteness for the delectation of the ordinary observer.
Majestic steamers plied their paddles to and fro upon

the river; ladies crowding their decks and streamers
floating on the wind. Sloops dotted the harbours,
while noble ships were seen in the offing. Mills, factories,
and light-houses—canals, rail-roads and bridges,
all took their appropriate positions. Then came the
advertisements, choicely worded and carefully vague,
never setting forth any thing which might not come
true at some time or other; yet leaving the buyer without
excuse if he chose to be taken in.

An auctioneer was now to be procured (for lots
usually went rather heavily at private sale,) and this
auctioneer must not be such a one as any Executive
can make, but a man of genius, or ready invention, of
fluent speech; one who had seen something of the
world, and above all, one who must be so thoroughly
acquainted with the property, and so entirely convinced
of its value, that he could vouch on his own
personal respectability, for the truth of every statement.
He must be able to exhibit certificates from—no matter
whom—Tom-a-Nokes perhaps—but “residing on
the spot”—and he must find men of straw to lead the
first bids. And when all this had been attended to, it
must have required some nerve to carry the matter
through; to stand by, while the poor artizan, the journeyman
mechanic, the stranger who had brought his
little all to buy government land to bring up his young
family upon, staked their poor means on strips of land
which were at that moment a foot under water. I think
many of these gentlemen earned their money.

It is not to be supposed that the preliminaries I have
enumerated, preceded every successful land-sale. Many
thousand acres were transferred from hand to hand

with a rapidity which reminded one irresistibly of the
old French game of “le petit bon homme” (anglicised
into `Robin's alive')—while all gained save him in
whose hand Robin died.

I have known a piece of property bought at five
hundred dollars, sold at once for twenty thousand; five
thousand counted down, and the remainder secured by
bond and mortgage. Whether these after payments
were ever made, is another question, and one which I
am unable to answer. I mention the transaction as
one which was performed in all truth and fairness
savouring nothing of the “tricksy spirit” on which I
have been somewhat diffuse.

I must not omit to record the friendly offer of one of
the gentlemen whose adventures I have recapitulated,
to take “two Montacute lots at five hundred dollars
each.” As this was rather beyond the price which the
owner had thought fit to affix to his ordinary lots, he
felt exceedingly obliged, and somewhat at a loss to
account for the proposition, till his friend whispered,
“and you shall have in payment a lot at New-New-York
at a thousand; and we have not sold one at that
I can assure you.”

The obliged party chanced to meet the agent for
New-New-York about a year after and inquired the
fortunes of the future emporium—the number of inhabitants,
&c.

“There's nobody there,” said he “but those we hire
to come.”