 | CHAPTER III. The trapper's bride, or, Spirit of adventure |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
It was a fine bright morning in the early
part of the month of August, when our
young friend Charles took his way
through the busy, thronged streets of the
city of his home, to the wharf where lay
the noble steamer Knickerbocker, just
ready to start for Albany; as soon as the
clock struck the hour, which was her appointed
time for leaving, and it lacked but
a few minutes of that time, away she
would bound on swift wings, borne on the
bosom of that grand and noble river, the
Hudson—the pride of the country; already
her broad decks were covered with
the motley restless crowd, who are ever
on the stir, going to and returning from the
big city. Charles, whose heart was always
alive to the grand and sublime exhibitions
of nature, and whose eye was
wont to seek and dwell upon the beautiful
and picturesque, could but admire
the charming scene that was spread out
before him as he gazed from the vessel's
deck on either side of him. There at
the east stretching farther than eye could
reach, or optic glance might range, lay the
vast, the trackless ocean. It slept in
hushed repose and quiet; the still air
hung in lightness over its surface, disturbing
not even by a ripple its smooth
glassy face; but it was only when some
fast speeding steamer came dashing along
in her track, that it seemed to move, or
that its still waters were agitated; or perhaps,
some light barge bearing a pleasure
seeking company might be seen afar off
in the distance, steering for the green clad
isles that rise in fresh beauty from the
midst of its blue waters; the dripping
water that fell in pearly drops from the
oars of rowers, as they, dipping them beneath
the surface, raised them again mid
sea and air, sparkled like gems in the sun-light,
and flashing back their reflective
light, gave life and animation to the otherwise
dead and motionless ocean.
As he stood looking out upon this prospect,
wrapped in the emotions and feelings
which filled his mind, as he thought
that it was the last time for many a day
to come, for months even, that he should
behold it, he was aroused from his
reverie by the merry shouts of laughter
that rose from the water, close by the
stern of the steamer he was in; and as
he looked in that direction, a graceful little
sail boat with its gaily striped sides
came shooting out from the shore, bearing
a company of young men bound on a
pleasure excursion. Their course was
for Hoboken, that famous spot, where
pleasure holds her constant revels, and
syrens, with soft voices and tempting
words, that well become their radiant
companions of the enticing smiles that
beam as bright on their lovely features,
await the coming of the gay and young, to
welcome them to the Elysian fields, or
wander by their side through darkling
groves and shady paths, that invite the
truant footsteps of the wanderers in
those fair domains. Charles looked after
them as their little boat danced over the
water, impelled by the youthful hands of
its gay company; its shining sides scarce
seems to touch the water's edge, so light
and buoyant does it ride the waves, just
burying its slender keel in the blue waters.
As they left the shore behind, and
moved farther and farther from the spot
where Charles stood, it diminished to but
a tiny speck, whose even onward motion
seemed like the motion of the sea bird
that swims the ocean waves, and there
finds itself free and joyous, when the waters
sleep in repose, or when the tempest
stirring winds are let loose, and wake
the boiling deep to fury, steady, beautifully
and calmly they ride on the tops of the
crested billows, and the mighty ocean
whose fury laughs at the strength of man,
and tosses the strong ships that dare its
power as if they were but feathers or floating
bubbles on its surface, and makes the
bold mariner's cheek to blanch with fear,
and his lip to quiver with fright, is alike the
pastime and the sport of the ocean bird;
but here Charles left gazing after them,
and turning his looks down the stream,
he saw, not more than a stone's throw
from the shore, off in the deep tide, the
large and beautiful ship which is the
pride and boast of the American navy,
the Ohio; she is a model ship, whose tall
tapering masts seem lost in the clouds,
while her strong staunch hulk, held by
iron cables, lay calm and motionless like a
huge whale asleep on the surface, in the
bright sunshine.
Close by the long line of wharves that
are built out into the sea, to afford opportunity
for ships to lay along by their side
and discharge their burdens or receive
their freights, were ranged in order hundreds
of stately ships, that either waited
only for favorable winds to waft them on
their course to foreign shores, laden with
the rich stores of the merchants' exports,
or else they were discharging from their
holds and decks, the burden of foreign
climes, freighted with which they had
just returned home. Here and there also
scattered along the docks, and pushed in
to the shore, were scattered along the
whole line of wharf, a countless number
of smaller crafts, such as were engaged
in the coasting trade, and plied their
course between different ports in our
wide extending country. And here too,
were the long narrow built canal boats,
that brought to the city in their capacious
holds, the rich and abundant harvest of
the fertile west. And here, above all
the din and confused noise that came from
the great city—from the rattling of carriages,
and the thundering of busy omnibuses,
that rolled in ceaseless noise over
the stone pavements, rose the doleful and
monotonous song of the sailor, that served
to lighten his toil, and beguile his laborious
task of its wearisomeness. At the
very foot of the city, pushing boldly out
into the ocean, whose running waves
broke at its base, and curved its walled
sides, stood the battery; the great promenade,
the show ground, the breathing
place of that great city.
The ornamental and gracefully formed
trees arranged in clusters along the shaded
walks, that conduct through every
part of its green extent, hung thick with
luxurious foliage, afforded a delightful
shelter from the hot sun's rays that stream
down upon it at noon day; but here and
enclosing the paths, are placed rustic seats
and benches, that invite the wearied pedestrian
to rest himself.
Here on each bright day may be seen
a motley and incongruous crowd. The
gay idlers and fashionable dandies here
seek to dissipate the heavy hours, that
hang like heaviest burthens on their
hands, while they display to the wondering
and curious lounger their rich and
gay dresses. Here too, come the citizens
that live in narrow streets, and out of the
way lanes, back alleys and pent up houses
to taste the healthful air, and catch the
pure breezes that come from off ocean's
bosom, laden with salubrious and invigorating
influences. Here too, may one
see the pleasure loving throng of fair
girls, attired in gaudy showy dresses,
the gaze of the young and artless youth
that visit the battery, and lure them by
their wanton smiles and lascivious ways
to their abandoned homes.
Across the ferry just opposite, rise the
commanding heights of Brooklyn, and
on the summit of many a gentle eminence
in that pleasant city, rise tall spires
and shining domes that crown the temples
of the city. It was a fair scene to
look upon, and might well engage the attention
of the delighted eye that was so
fortunate as to behold it; and kindle the
exalted and ennobling emotions of grandeur,
beauty, and sublimity, in combined
and sweetly entrancing power in the
heart, like the spell of a fairy scene.
But the scene which thus lay spread
out before him in all its loveliness and
great beauty, awakened in the heart of
Charles mingled feelings of pleasure and
sorrow. The parting blessings of his
parents still sounded in his ears. The
tears of blended love and grief that wet
his mother's cheek, as she pressed him
to her bosom in a farewell embrace, and
imprinted a parting kiss upon his lips—
the tearful eyes and sad faces of his dearly
loved sisters, as they bid him an affectionate
adieu—were all present to his
mind's eye, and his thoughts flew back
to them, the loved ones, and the true-hearted
friends. The scenes of his childhood
and youth, passed so happily in
their company, came rapidly in review
before him, spreading themselves out before
his mind's eye with a vividness and
distinctness that made all else about and
around him, dim and pale. It was the
first time in his life that he had quitted
his home to go out alone into the wide
world, master of himself, and dependant
upon himself in all the emergencies that
might happen to him. And all who have
ever been in a similar position with him,
know, and can well appreciate, the sad,
chilling feelings of sadness, that crowd
upon the heart, and wrap in a mantle
of gloom all around us, when we take
the first flight from the home of our
childhood, and looking around us for the
kind faces of our cherished friends that
were wont to greet us with smiles of affection,
we miss them, and as we listen
for the well remembered voices that were
ever wont to meet us in sweet tones of
love, in tender solicitude for our welfare,
and kind counsels for our happiness.—
Instead of these, we meet the cold gaze
of strangers, and hear the unfeeling
words of selfish and heartless men.
It is but once in life that we are doomed
to feel such bitter disappointment—
such utter loneliness. We soon, very
soon, come to know the world as it actually
is. Its habits and customs become
familiar to us. The happy, trusting confidence
of our youthful days, the fanciful,
bright prospects that our young hearts
loved to entertain and cherish, at the moment
we part from our home, and early,
tried, true friends, receives a fatal wound
which they rarely long survive. Those
whom we fondly and surely believed in
our happy ignorance would be our helpers
and assistants in carrying our schemes
and early plans; we find, when we meet
them as men of the world, cold and indifferent
to us, and totally absorbed in
their own interests. Oftener are they
ready to hinder, and even drag us down,
than to befriend and aid us. The freshness
of youth, so charming, so full of
beauty, so glorious in hope, is gone—forever
gone; and naught can again revive it.
Alas! how sad the thought, as we
look upon joyous, laughing children,
and youth, with no cares to cloud their
heaven; no troubles to sadden their
hearts; no wearying, warning anxieties,
to make them tremble for the future.—
How sad, I repeat, the reflection, that
they too soon must pass the dread ordeal
which shall rob them forever of their unalloyed
joys, and initiate them into the
cold, cruel, heartless realities of the busy
world. The disappointment is like that
of the enchanted, when he awakens from
the spell that has shown him the brightest
glories of the fairy land.
Sad, indeed, were the thoughts that were
within the mind of our young friend at
this time. What if he should never return
again; what if he had spoken his
last word to his beloved family. The
suspicion, the thought that possibly it
might be so, made his blood run cold,
and his heart tremble!
While engaged in such reflections as
few minutes, and its last toll sounded. It
ceased, and instantly the boat moved.—
Charles started up as if amazed, and
walking to the stern, he gave a long, a
parting look to his native city, where
dwelt all who were most dear to him
on earth. Swiftly the steamer glides
along, fainter and fainter grows the city
he is leaving behind him, till at last it
sinks, dies away from his view—it is
gone: he is now alone in the world.—
He was alone, but at the same time in the
midst of a crowd, who thronged the vessel's
deck. He had no wish, no thought
of mingling with the company and becoming
of them. He desired to indulge
the reflections that were awakened in his
mind, by himself. But whoever has
traveled in America, knows how difficult,
how almost impossible it is to preserve
silence, and as I may say, keep one to
one's self. If by chance you do not
happen to meet with an old acquaintance
or friend who is bent on recognizing
you and being sociable, no chance
can save you from the advances of a large
class who are determined to become acquaintances,
nolens volens; and to save
you the trouble of an introduction, they
first attack, with an account of their own
concerns, and then by a series of questions
in the nature of home thrusts, they
endeavor to discover who you are, and
where you are going; and seem to think
it hard, very hard, if you do not tell them.
The American people have indeed become
famous for their spirit of inquisitiveness.
The active habits, the stirring
life they constantly lead, adds to this, and
renders them restless and uneasy when
they would fain be at leisure and seek
quiet.
Charles was vexed and annoyed a
good deal by the prying curiosity of
his fellow passengers, as one after another
they attacked with their questions,
and stated their individual views and
feelings for his especial benefit. But as
he generally answered them in monosyllables,
they soon exhausted themselves
and left him for want of encouragement,
to try their powers on some more supple
and interesting subject. In this manner
the long day wore away, and at night
Charles landed safely at the city of Albany.
This city Charles had often visited
before, and was well acquainted with it,
and for this reason he chose not to remain
here a longer time than was necessary;
and, accordingly, early the next
morning he left the place for Buffalo.—
This place was new to him, and in accordance
with the plan he had formed before
leaving home, to acquire all the information
within his reach, with regard to the
country, cities and towns, that he visited,
he spent several days here, and in his
active search for information, and his interested
examination of the wonders of
the city, he forgot his sadness, and again
recovered his cheerfulness and buoyancy
of spirits.
From this city he went directly to Pittsburgh.
Here was a scene, novel and interesting
to our young traveler; a large
and most enterprising city, built up mostly
within a few years. The great proportion
of the citizens are engaged, in
some way or other, in either the iron or
coal business. This place is the great
source of supply: the fountain of these
two staple commodities. A dark cloud
of smoke, and dust, and vapor, by day
hangs over the city, through which the
sun shines as through the misty clouds of
a foggy morn at sea. The particles of
coal dust that are borne in the air with
the current of smoke and vapor, descend
again upon the stores and dwellings.—
They even penetrate the houses, covering
everything with a black coating of
pulverized coal. From this cause, the
buildings in youth grow old, and look
dingy and ancient. At night a thousand
furnaces that are kept constantly burning
—during the night as well as through the
day—with their lurid fires, illumine the
gloom, and throw their dull light far and
wide like beacon lights that gleam through
the thick fog. Here are to be found the
largest iron foundries in the country, as
well as the most varied and different iron
factories; though there are but few engaged
in the manufacture of the more
nice and exact manufactures. The ridge
of the Alleghany mountains, which runs
in a north-easterly and south-westerly
direction through the western part of the
state of Pennsylvania, near to where the
rich and almost exhaustless beds of iron
ore; and beside these are to be found
great beds of coal, the veins of which, in
many places, approach the surface of the
earth, and even appear above the soil.
Nature, who is man's best friend and
ever ready to bless him, seems to have intended
this spot for a grand, vast work-shop;
she has laid here at man's feet all
the necessary materials and in unnumbered
measure, and she bids him take
them and fashion after his will and for
his own purpose and service; and the
blazing furnaces and smoking forges—
the clouds of smoke that ever float above
this enterprising city—the buzzing of
the mechanic's busy wheels, the sound
of his heavy hammer, tell you in a language
plainer than words, that man is
following her bidding.
The amoung of rough iron that is
yearly exported from this single city,
would, I think, astonish the most extravagant
calculators. Add to this the manufactured
articles of every description,
wrought from this metal, and sent all
over our own country, and even find
their way to foreign lands, and you have
a most amazing amount of iron that
Pittsburgh annually furnishes the world,
from iron-bound mountains. One would
think that such heavy drafts upon these
mines would soon exhaust them. Yet as
far as can be seen, there are but small
and comparatively trifling inroads made
upon their vast resources.
There are many branches of labor pursued
here, which Charles found of interest
to him. There is, however, but
one we will mention—it is that of working
the coal mines.
A small opening is made in the side of
the mountain where the coal shows itself,
protruding through the rocky ore; and
the miner in his operations follows the
course of the vein which he has opened;
often times this leads deep into the bowels
of the mountain. As he advances,
and the distance to the opening increases,
in order to facilitate and render more
easy the labor of transporting the coal
which he detaches from the mass, small
railways are constructed leading from the
opening to the place where he labors;
and burden cars being placed upon the
rails, he is enabled both rapidly and
with great ease, to bring his burden to
the mouth of the cave he has excavated
It is a singular and interesting spectacle
to see the miners, with their faces all begrimed
and blackened with the dust
of the jetty shining coal, mounted upon
these cars, come riding from their hiding
place beneath the ground with their
freight of coal, shooting into daylight they
quickly discharge their burden, and again
suddenly disappear, returning to the dark
regions from whence they issued, like beings
of another world.
It brings to the mind of the classical
scholar most vividly, the picture which
Virgil, in olden times, drew of Vulcan's
work-shop, and his labors performed in
the bowels of Mount Etna—where the
sooty god, obedient to great Jove's command,
forged for him his mighty thunder-bolts,
and formed for the warrior gods
their celestial armor. But our picture
has all the advantages of being a real living
scene; while that of the ancients existed
alone in their lively fancy. It has
been reserved for the Americans to realize
in fact, if not exactly after the imagination
of those fanciful nations, this
Herculean task:—the mountain is transformed
into one vast work-shop; old
Vulcan himself is outdone. But instead
of armor and thunder-bolts, which his
forges furnished for the gods, the color
or form of which poor mortals never
knew, we now receive from this great
factory all manner and kinds of useful
and serviceable articles: pitch forks and
polished breast pins, hoes and shining tea
urns, pots and delicate wrought pins, kettles
and ladies' scissors. The purposes
to which we moderns apply these labors,
if not so exalted and dignified as that of
the ancients, yet, must be confessed, certainly
much more useful.
Our friend Charles spent several days
in this city, much to his gratification and
enjoyment, visiting both the factories
and mines located here.
From this place his course was direct
to Cincinnati, the Queen City of the
West. And here again his love of novelty
and the wonderful found an open
source and a wide scope for gratification.
large, beautiful, and wealthy, it has
sprung up almost like the armed warrior
that leaped from the head of great Jove
at a blow. It is but a few years since
the spot where the city stands, was a
part and parcel of the wild, uncultivated,
uninhabited forest. Its growth has been
extremely rapid, surpassing that of any
other city in the Union, and appears almost
incredible to one who has not visited
it, and actually beheld with his own
eyes the proofs of the truth of the statements
with regard to it.
The distance from Pittsburgh to this
place is about five hundred miles.—
Steamboats are constantly plying between
the two cities of pork and iron, and the
general passage is not over three days.
The beautiful city of Cincinnati is located
at almost the extreme south-western
bounds of the State of Ohio, on the north
bank of the river which gave the state its
name. The site which it occupies, is a
low, and almost level stretch of ground
along the bank of the river, extending
back from the bank about one and a half
miles. With the exception of that side
which is bounded by the river, it is surrounded
by considerable hills, which
form a complete belt around it. From
the top of any one of these hills you
may obtain a fine view of the city, and
adjacent country. At your feet lies
spread out a great and growing city in
the midst of a comparative wilderness—
you see at one view, the long rows of
stores that rise on either side of the extended
line of streets, through that portion
of the city nearest the river, ascending
a slight roll of land—so slight that the
eye scarcely perceives it from where you
stand—you meet with well laid out streets,
on either side of which stand the comfortable,
handsome, and even elegant
houses of the citizens. These streets
are lined with ornamental shade trees,
which enliven the scene and impart beauty
to the view. Lifting your eyes from
this spectacle, you see the surrounding
hills clad in the rich, green mantle of nature,
with all her primeval beauty. The
tall trees that lift their heads on high,
look like the guardians of the forest,
standing at the out-posts of civilization,
to keep back the invading ranks of their
enemy and destroyer. Close by these
the smiling fields and luxuriant gardens,
blooming and blossoming with flowers
and fruits, under the careful protection
of the husbandman and gardener, afford
a delightful picture to the eye.
Turn now to the south, and within the
eye's range, just across the Ohio river,
which forms the boundary line between
the States of Ohio and Kentucky; are
situated the two cities of Newport and
Covington, separated from each other by
the Licking river, which flowing from the
interior of Kentucky, here empties itself
into the Ohio. These, though small and
but indifferent in regard to the buildings
and public places in them, still look very
beautiful when seen from this side of the
river; they are full of large and elegant
trees, and the appearance of these places
is as if they were embowered with trees
of living green and filled with enchanting
gardens.
Charles, who had landed here fresh
and lively in spirits, strong and robust in
health, the influence of the varying scenes
through which he had passed, and the
effect of traveling, having produced a beneficial
effect upon him, he took lodging
at the Broadway Hotel, which is the
house of the city, and is situated near the
lower end of Broadway. Charles remained
in this place several days, and
formed here many pleasant and agreeable
acquaintances, who were courteous and
attentive to him, and afforded their assistance
and the benefit of their acquaintance
with the city in his attempts to see the
wonders of the place.
One evening after supper, while sitting
on the side walk beneath the awning in
front of his hotel, he fell accidentally into
conversation with an aged grey haired
gentleman whom he had frequently noticed
at the table, and from him he learned
the following account of the settlement
of the city:
Said the old man, “It was early in the
fall of seventeen hundred eighty-eight,
near the beginning of the month of September,
that two travelers might have been
seen leisurely rowing a small boat down
the Ohio river. They were in the prime
of life, being nearly of the same age;
a pepper color mixed cloth, broad brimmed
straw hats, stout cow-hide brogans. As
the day was warm, they had thrown off
their coats, and thus exposed to view,
checked cotton shirts, which covered
their brawny arms and strong shoulders.
At a glance you could see that both were
remarkably muscular in frame, and looked
as if they had been trained in the school
of manual labor, which most tended to
develop their physical system. Their
countenances wore an open, frank expression,
while at the same time, they showed
a boldness and resoluteness which would
quickly lead the stranger who observed
them, to judge that they would be fit persons
to undertake and achieve any daring
deeds, which fancy or interest might
prompt them to. From the interested
manner in which they carried on conver
sation, and the serious, anxious expression
their faces wore, it was very evident
that they had at this time some enterprise
of importance in hand, and which had
aroused and enlisted all their feelings.—
And from the close examination which
they made of either shore as they quietly
sailed along down the river, one would
readily have supposed that the object of
their journey concerned this portion of
the country; and if he could have caught
the expressions and exclamations which
from time to time fell from their lips, he
would, without hesitation, have pronounced
them real, downright Jerseymen of
the true blue.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon,
and they had now arrived at that
section of the State of Ohio (then a territory,
and with but few and scattered
settlements, and those small, just in their
infancy,) where now stands this great and
enterprising city, by right of magnitude
and importance, styled the Queen of the
West. As they steered their boat towards
the northern shore, you could see
that they made a closer examination of
the channel of the Ohio river than they
had done before; and from certain words
and gestures which passed between them,
it was evident that they had discovered
something which was of more than ordinary
interest to them.
The fact which thus excited their at
tention was simply this: they had found
here that the channel of the river grew
deeper and approached nearer the shore
on this side of the river than at any place
they had marked, up to this point, since
they embarked upon it.
“Well, John,” said the man at the
stern of the boat, “the channel certainly
looks more favorable here, and I think,
with little improvement, would make a
fine dock for large steamboats at some
future time, that perhaps we may live to
see; let's put into the shore and see if
the site on shore is equally as favorable
for our purposes as the river appears to
be, what say you?”
“I'm ready and agreed, Nat,” said he,
“and I am inclined to think we've hit
upon the right spot at last. Just look
around you on every side of this pretty
little bottom land by the river's bank; see
those beautiful hills just off there that
rise so gracefully and gently; where can
you go to find finer sites for dwellings in
all the country, than they afford? And
those sunny slopes, how richly will they
bloom and blossom under the farmer's
toiling hand; what great and fruitful orchards
and vineyards those rolling lands
will make; and right here, on this level,
low reach of ground, in future years, can
be built a large town or city, close by the
river's bank.”
From these few words you can easily
gather what the object was which these
two men had in view. It was the making
of a settlement, the founding of a
town. Alone, and furnished with but
scanty means, they had quitted their old
homes to seek a new one in the wilds of
the West, for at that period this section
of the country was one unbroken forest.
Here were then no steamboats, as now,
to transport the traveler so comfortably
and rapidly on his journey; no sumptuous
hotels, and inns, where his wants
could all be met, and the luxuries of life
be obtained, and where he might rest his
weary limbs in refreshing sleep, and inviting
ease on downy beds.
“I know,” said the old gentleman to
Charles, “that it will seem almost incredible
to you, as you look along the
levee at the foot of the street, and see
the hundreds of steamers that crowd
edge, and when you survey this elegant
and extensive hotel in front of
which we now sit, and see all around the
proofs and evidences of the wealth and
large resources of the city; but for all
this, it is none the less true, that at the
time of my story, all was a wild, dense
woods. The waters of the great Ohio
flowed smoothly along, unruffled by the
flying course of proud steamers, that you
now see plowing its broad stream, and
agitating its even flow. Naught then
save the light birch canoe of the Indian,
skimmed its surface, scarce making a ripple,
or leaving the slightest motion of the
waters it rode upon. And these two men
knew all this. They had not blindly and
ignorantly set out on a wild expedition:
but knowing it all, they had resolved to
dare the privations and dangers of the
pioneer, and here, in one of nature's
loveliest spots, plant themselves: rightly
judging, as events have since abundantly
shown, that the seed cast here would rapidly
spring up, and bear a great and wonderful
harvest. They would form the
nucleus around which should gather in
coming years the thousands and tens of
thousands of their own adventurous and
enterprising countrymen who would seek
the West. And here, too, would flock
the thousands of foreign wanderers, who
should seek to live beneath the blessed
influence of our beloved and free republic,
coming to our shores for a new home.
The pioneers soon brought their little
boat to the shore. It contained their sole
stock of furniture, all their implements
of labor, their weapons of defence; in
short, here was their whole stock of
property upon which they were to rely
for all circumstances that might transpire.
As the afternoon was now pretty
well spent, and the remaining hours of
daylight would not afford them sufficient
time to explore the land as thoroughly
as they desired to do, they concluded to
defer it until the next day; meanwhile
they built for their accommodation a light
camp. The spot chosen by them for
their camp-ground, was just at the foot
of this street: you can see it from where
we now are sitting. A few minutes'
search about sundown in the tangled
growth of woods on this bottom land
and a few well directed shots, supplied
them with a plentiful store of game.
Early the next morning they set out
on their exploring expedition, and spent
the whole day in this business; in many
respects the site pleased them. In some
of their expectations, however, they were
disappointed; much of the level portion
of land that lay between the hills and the
river was marshy, swampy land; and
large ponds of water stood in the hollows
and basins that had been formed by
the streams and rills which poured down
from the adjacent hills. They believed
however, that in time, by labor well bestowed
in draining and grading, it could
be made a beautiful and healthy place.
But the task looked like herculean labor,
with only these two laborers; but then
again, urged Nat, it is so well protected
from winds and driving storms on every
side by its circle of surrounding hills;
and those same eminences would afford
such charming spots for happy homes,
when cleared of the forests which now
cover them, and reduced to cultivation.
But his companion was not so well pleased,
or so ready to choose here to locate
himself. The most weighty argument
with him was the excellent landing and
deep channel of the river at this spot;
for he looked forward to the time when
an advantage of this nature should be of
incalculable importance to the city.
In this way at night when they had
returned to camp, they consulted and deliberated
long, balancing and weighing
the advantages and disadvantages, one by
one as they had viewed them. They
had set out from home for the purpose
of seeking a spot every way to their liking;
and being shrewd far-seeing men
who regarded in their plans the future
growth and prosperity of their settlement,
they considered every thing relating to it
with liberal judgment, and broad extended
views. And you will believe that
they were not likely to fix hastily upon
any spot, before well informing themselves
with regard to it, and careful deliberation.
The result of their evening's
deliberation was not decisive, as to whether
they should remain, or go farther to
seek for a better place. They resolved,
of the site; this they did, and at
night again reviewed all the arguments
for and against a settlement here, with all
the new light their day's search and
exploration had given them. Yet they
remained undecided, doubtful; they did
not like to give it up entirely, neither
were they altogether satisfied with it.
At last, when they gave up all thoughts
of coming to a final conclusion by means
of any farther deliberation, said Nat,
“Let us leave it to fortune, John, whether
we shall stay here, or go farther down
the river, to find our home.”
“Agreed,” replied his companion, “for
I really can see no other way of settling
the question.”
Nat immediately pulled out of his
pocket, a black looking copper coin, one
of the old genuine cents, American coin,
and holding it for a moment in his hand,
while he looked closely at it, said:
“John, I will flip this up in the air; if
it turns up heads, we stay; if tails, we
go.”
With eagerness they sat down to determine
by the turning of that dingy copper
coin, the destiny and fate of this
great city. Nat poised it for an instant
on the end of his finger, while his companion
sat watching him, as if his fate
was the stake they played for. He threw
it up; and with breathless interest, both
looked after it as it came to the ground,
whirling and turning over and over in its
descent. The moment it struck, Nat
jumped to his feet, exclaiming:
“Heads, by thunder, John. We stay
any how, now. I kinder thought it would
turn out so when I tossed the tarnal thing
up.”
“So did I,” said John.
Without saying another word, they
quietly sat down again, pulled out their
pipes, lighted them, and began to smoke.
The matter was all settled, and they
neither of them were the kind of men
that whiffle and change every minute with
every gust that blows. They had left it
to chance, because they were pretty well
persuaded of its advantages, and strongly
inclined to remain here; so at the moment
that the old copper cent touched
the ground, the city of Cincinnati was
born; it being just half-past ten in the
evening of the fifteenth day of September,
in the year of our Lord 1788.”
Charles listened attentively to the story
which the old gentleman told of the
early settlement of the place; and although
he affirmed that his account was
the only true one, still he thought it
smacked somewhat of the fictitious, and
had the color of the fabulous on its outside.
Notwithstanding this, however,
he took the first opportunity that he had
of transferring it to his note book. And
it is from that we have obtained our account
of it.
Charles had now spent the time he
had allotted to a visit, in this place; and
the next day proposed to leave by steamboat
for St. Louis.
| CHAPTER III. The trapper's bride, or, Spirit of adventure | |