 | CHAPTER V. The western merchant |  |
5. CHAPTER V.
At the beginning of autumn, business revived, and the
success of the establishment was placed beyond a doubt.
The emigrants from the slave-holding states came out in
less money with them, upon which to subsist until they
could make a support for themselves. They had to buy
all the food and clothing they consumed the first months of
their abode in the country. Those who had preceded
them furnished the articles. Thus a constant trade was
kept up among themselves. There were no exports. But
as there were ten thousand things, in the way of merchandize,
not brought with the emigrants, and yet indispensable
to their convenience, it followed that the merchant did
a flourishing business. At the present day, I presume the
state of Missouri, and the neighboring states, export as
much in value as they import. Their supplies of tobacco,
hemp, wheat, corn, live-stock, meat, &c., seem now to
be inexhaustible—to say nothing of their minerals. But
the cash finds its way into the desk of the merchant, as it
did formerly.
Joseph was delighted with his success; but his restless
mind was ever on the wing. Although his ambition impelled
him to resolve to be the pioneer, the leader, the
most successful member of the family, yet he was desirous
that the rest of us should follow in his footsteps, at a respectful
distance behind. One night, when we were sitting
as usual at the door, enjoying the fine breeze which swept
gently up the river, he said:
“Luke, how would you like to commence doing business
for yourself? Our family is numerous, and all of us poor.
Those of us who are old enough, should embrace every
opportunity to make all the money we can, in an honest
way. Nothing but energy, honesty and perseverance is
required to succeed in a new country. Our parents are
getting old, and several of the children are yet too young
to assist them. We must strain every fibre to be enabled
ideas except those of business.”
“I like the idea very well,” I replied; “but I don't see
how it can be accomplished. I have no capital, and you
are about to increase your expenses.”
“You are mistaken, Luke. By marrying I will rather
diminish my expenses. My wife's fortune will be equal
to my own. Neither of them is much, but the little we
have being united, will enable us to get along without
additional expense. Besides, when I am settled down permanently,
my credit and standing will be better established.
My business qualifications are known to the merchants
in this region—and I have no fears for myself. If I continue
to have health, I will soon achieve a fortune. I have
had propositions from a half dozen men of capital already,
to enter into partnership with them at the expiration of my
present engagement. It will be the same with you, if you
prove capable. A young man of good character, and of
business capacity, will not long want for capital in a new
country. But he must be steadfast, energetic, and never
ashamed of small beginnings.”
I felt Joseph's rebuke, and assented to its justness. He
had more than once detected my reluctance to attend to
some of the minor details of the business.
“But,” said I, curious to know how I might begin
operations on my own account, “in what way do you propose
that I shall commence business for myself?”
“In a very small way,” said he; “but if you think it
too small, you can let it alone. It would be a beginning,
without much risk; and it might put a few hundred dollars
in your pocket. It would at all events test your capacity
for business, and exercise your genius in that line, if you
have any. But I'm afraid your notions are too high for
afraid, to succeed in business. A young man in your destitute
condition, if he means to rise in the world, should
hesitate at no honest undertaking to make a living.”
“But tell me what it is you propose,” said I, growing
impatient; “there is but one thing that I would object to
embarking in; and if it be that, I must refuse.”
“What is it you allude to?” he asked.
“Selling liquor—keeping a tippling shop,” said I, with
some emphasis.
“It is not that, Luke,” said he; “I have too much pride
myself—no, not pride, if such a thing were necessary and
not morally wrong—but sense of propriety, to propose that.
This is what I mean. You get a salary of one hundred
and twenty dollars, and your board. You have been
tolerably economical in the way of clothing, and only
shown a little extravagance in the purchase of a gun, and
some pets; (I had, besides my wolf, a squirrel and a fawn;)
and I find there are now about fifty dollars to your credit.
Instead of taking that sum in return for the money I loaned
you in Kentucky, I will just charge you the interest at present,
and permit you to have the principal to speculate on
in racoon skins, and other peltry. No doubt if you write
advertisements, stating that you will purchase such articles,
you will make a considerable trade.”
“The coon trade!” ejaculated I, laughing.
“Oh, if you don't like the idea, you need have nothing
to do with it. I will engage in it myself,” he continued,
as he perceived something like a sneer in my manner.
“I haven't said I don't like it,” I replied. “I was only
amused at the idea. Indeed I do like it very well,
and hope to make something out of it. But I can't expect
to make much on a capital of fifty dollars. However, if
better than nothing; and it will be a beginning, as you say.
But what if I lose?”
“You can't lose,” replied he, firmly. “If you only determine
to make money, you will succeed—that is my motto.
But I will make by it, too. You must pay for your peltry in
goods, and charge yourself with the amount. If this over-runs
the sum due you on the books, more will be still accruing
to your credit from your salary. It will teach you
habits of economy and calculation, which will be of infinite
benefit. If you should run up the account to several
hundred dollars, I will make no objection; and presume
my partners will make none, as the debt will be liquidated
when you get returns from your shipments to St. Louis.”
I now caught at the idea with eagerness, and began to
calculate rather too fast for Joseph. It had been originally
agreed, that any merchandise charged to my account, should
be put at the rate of only twenty-five per cent. profit, and
I suggested that I should have the advantage of a deduction
on the goods I sold in exchange for furs, at the usual
prices, to that extent. Joseph was pleased at this evidence
of my penetration, but objected positively to the arrangement,
reminding me that in truth, the capital I was to
operate on, was not my own, as I owed it all to him—and
furthermore, that the moderate profit alluded to, was only
intended to be applied to articles for my own use.
With a sigh at the disadvantages under which circumstances
compelled me to operate, I was, nevertheless,
pleased with the novelty of the undertaking, and so I entered
with a degree of cheerfulness and hope upon my
new career. It was a kind of by-play in the scene—a sort
of imperium in imperio, as the great politicians at Washington
would say—and afforded a new diversion for the
growing out of small beginnings, and was a useful
lesson in lessening my pride, which had been engendered
in great part from the incredible number of fashionable
romances I had read.
In a few weeks, I had the lumber room and two “lofts”
pretty well filled with coon skins, otter, muskrat, &c. The
store smelt like a hatter's shop, and Joseph sometimes
evinced his displeasure at the odor. I had gone the full
extent of his limits, and in the event of my failure in business,
he began to see that the firm of J. Shortfield & Co.
might be involved in my fall. So he put a veto upon any
farther proceedings, until I had made a shipment and got
my returns. He said my liabilities were already too far
extended, and it was time to begin to “realize.” But he
had perforce to permit me to extend them a little farther.
I bought of him all the empty casks and barrels about the
concern, to pack my skins in. It was a tedious process.
To say nothing of the “oleaginous” particles on the flesh
side of the skins, I discovered with alarm that the moths
had begun to play havoc with the other side—and Joseph
feared that they might play havoc with the cloths. I spread
them all out in the sun, and gave them a good beating before
packing them. We then overhauled the woolen
goods in the house, and found that no material damage
had been done.
At length the day of shipment came. The old “Globe”
was puffing and straining to round to at the landing. It
was a tedious and difficult operation. The old merchants
of Missouri, all remember the “Globe.” She could run
only about twenty-five miles a day up stream, barring the
narrow places and short bends, where the current was unusually
rapid. At one of such places, I have seen her
have to fall back and “wood” at the same yard as many
times. Then she “made” only five miles a day. She was
commanded by Captain Clarke and his wife; but the wife
was “more of a man” than the husband, and commanded
him, as well as the crew, on many occasions. Still, they
made money. They charged two dollars a hundred for
freight up to the same places to which goods are now
brought for twelve and a half cents. Having first agreed
to pay so much per hundred pounds, I rolled my furs down
to the natural wharf, which consisted of a bluff bank and
a tree to “make fast” to. When the old lady saw the
casks beginning to bounce and hop about, indicating their
lightness, she began to demur to the agreement. But it
was too late—I carried the day, got my bills of lading
signed, and saw my first lot of produce leave the harbor.
During the succeeding two weeks, my thoughts were
pretty much occupied with speculations on the probable
result of my venture. I dreamed of most astonishing profits
at night; and was eager, on the succeeding day, to continue
my purchases. But Joseph positively forbade it.
I had no remedy but to tell the trappers and hunters to
await the result of my shipment. I ran no risk of losing
the business. I had a complete monopoly of the “coon
trade.”
At the expiration of three weeks, a letter came to hand
from the commission merchant to whom the consignment
had been made. It was brought up by the “Otto,” a new
boat, and the fastest one that had been hitherto on the
river. The letter was dated only four days back. Joseph
received it, he having gone down to the landing while I
remained at the store waiting on some customers. When
he had good news for me.
“Luke, what will you take for your profits?” said he,
holding the open letter in his hand.
“One hundred dollars, at a venture,” said I.
“You have done better than that,” said he, placing the
letter in my hand.
And, sure enough, I had done better. The whole consignment
had cost me, including the barrels, just four hundred
and sixty dollars, six and a quarter cents. The net
proceeds of sales were eight hundred and twenty-nine dollars,
ninety-three and three quarter cents! And that
amount remained in the hands of Messrs. Tracy & Co.,
subject to my order. I had cleared by the operation three
hundred and sixty-nine dollars, eighty-seven and a half
cents! It was with difficulty I could comprehend the extent
of my good fortune, at first. The amount appeared so
large, that I feared there might be some mistake. I was so
imprudent as to read the letter over and over again, aloud,
disregardful of my brother's prudential hints to be silent.
Finally, I became convinced of the reality of my acquisition,
and determined to lose no time in resuming my operations
in the “coon trade.” My next thought was to write
a letter to Blanche, apprising her of my prospects, which I
did in glowing terms.
But I found, to my dismay, that the “coon trade” was
over. The prices in St. Louis were soon known all over
the country, and there were dozens of speculators in the
field. I could not afford to give the prices the people now
asked; and Joseph did not suggest any other speculation
for me. In truth, it was ascertained that my speculations
“on my own hook” were occupying too much of my attention,
and threatened to be detrimental to the interest of
in my behalf on account of this disappointment.
The time was now arrived for us to begin to make collections
for the first goods sold on credit, and I was likely
to have employment enough. After making out the bills,
which I found to be a most tedious labor, Joseph mounted
me on a horse and started me into the interior. He urged
me to be diligent, stating that upon my success depended
in a great measure his future welfare and mine. He said
that if the establishment could realize the amount of money
that the first importation of goods had cost in Philadelphia,
his partners would permit him to go east in the winter, and
purchase his next stock himself. I was fully impressed
with the importance of my mission, and resolved to do my
best. But by way of securing my personal safety, as I alleged,
though in reality to promote my amusement, by mingling
sport with business, I insisted on carrying my rifle
with me, which Joseph reluctantly permitted.
An hour's ride sufficed to place me in the beautiful
prairie—not an unrelieved, cheerless plain of interminable
extent, as many suppose the prairies of Missouri to be; but
a series of gentle slopes bounded by parallel ravines. On
either side of these ravines were beautiful groves of
oak, spreading a half mile in width, and extending miles
in length. Thus only about two-thirds of the land consisted
of prairie, and a fair proportion of the travel was
under the grateful branches of umbrageous trees. Here
nature seemed to invite the industrious man to partake of
her richest bounties. He had only to till the virgin soil,
laid off in fields and hedges ready for him, and then to
reap an abundant harvest. Every portion of the country
that I saw in cultivation, brought forth at least fifty-fold.
The reader may be assured that I am not describing
convey accurate information. Even my incidents are not
falsely colored. I state the bad as well as the good of a
new country—and I trust that I shall be believed; and
farther, if the good shall be thought to preponderate, and
if a portion of those whose circumstances may require
a change of location, shall be induced by a perusal of
these pages to take up their abode in the lovely clime
of the west, I will be conscious of having done a service
to some of my fellow-creatures. Missouri is one of the
largest states in the Union; and there are portions of it,
far up the river, now being settled, which afford all the
inducements that the central region presented eighteen
years ago. There is one false idea especially in regard to
the first inhabitants of the western states, which should
be corrected. The belief is quite prevalent that because
the habitations of the emigrants are rude, and the comforts
and conveniences of civilization necessarily much
restricted, the intelligence and morals of the people must
correspond. This is the reverse of the truth. With the
exception of the few desperate and abandoned creatures
who always flee from justice to the verge of civilization,
the population of those new settlements is composed, for
the most part, of people of great natural energy of character—who
have, besides, more than a moderate share of
wise penetration. These people foresee the benefits that
will ultimately be realized by their children as the country
grows older, and as property, both real and personal,
augments in value, and they have the courage and perseverance
to contend for the prize. Besides, they bring
with them a variety of useful information from the respective
states and localities they have abandoned, and by their
unrestrained intercourse with each other, by their interchange
intelligence, on all subjects of moment, which may be
vainly looked for in the more secluded portions of the
comparatively densely populated states of the north and east.
And in regard to genuine piety, and the true charities of life,
an equal proportion of them fall not a whit behind their
brethren in the old states. It is true that occasionally
some characters are found, such as I have hinted at, who
put all the precepts of religion at defiance, and disregard
all the proprieties and decencies of good neighborhood;
but such vicious persons are speedily rooted out by the
good sense of the well disposed portion of the community
as soon as their numbers grow sufficiently ample for
the purpose. It was so with the representative of the
county, Mr. Beckel. So soon as he ascertained that a
majority of the voters were disposed to evince at the polls
their condemnation of his loose morals, he sold his property
and took up his abode in Texas.
At the point where the smooth prairie road which I was
traversing, entered a dense grove, through the centre of
which ran a large rivulet of cool transparent water, I
espied, some fifty paces ahead, my enemy, the desperate
Irishman. He was seated quietly on his horse, which was
standing in the water, with his mouth thrust in the brook,
and his tail switching violently at the flies, which are generally
a great annoyance in all new countries. The
Irishman had his rifle on his shoulder. A cold chill ran
up my back as he raised his head and recognized me.
His brow was dark, and he gazed steadfastly at me. I
was now within twenty paces of him. It would not do to
turn and flee away. I frankly confess I had the disposition
to do so, and would certainly have avoided him, if he had
out, although every fibre in me tingled with fear. I was
a famous shot. Every body for twenty, yes, forty miles
round, had heard of my extraordinary skill with the rifle;
and fortunately my rifle was in my hand. Having made
up my mind that there was no alternative but to meet my
deadly foe in that narrow road, (it was just wide enough
for a wagon to pass, and on either side there was a dense,
impenetrable undergrowth of briers, bushes, and tangled
grape vines,) my subsequent conduct was the result of
an unerring instinct which had more than once extricated
me in moments of sudden peril. I checked my horse
and dismounted, and pretended to adjust my girth. But
I so arranged the animal—(apparently by accident, though
in reality altogether by design)—that while there should
be ample room for my adversary to pass, his body
should at the same time be interposed between us. I
kept my eye fixed on the Irishman, and my rifle at rest
on my left arm, while I held the breech and lock in my
right hand. My foe did not seem to have any inclination,
on his part, to turn and fly. But he hesitated, when his
horse was done drinking. He had once received a blow
from my hand which had well nigh sufficed him. Perhaps
he was speculating about the chances of receiving
farther injury, rather than meditating vengeance. This idea
occurred to me, and caused me to act with more decision.
I would have been justified had I killed him, for it was
notorious that he still threatened to take my life. But I
had no such intention. My purpose was only to escape
with an unperforated skin. Assuming as much fierceness
as possible, I compressed my lips, and kept my
eye fixed upon his. At length he touched his horse
with the spur, and advanced very slowly. His gun was
When he was within five steps of me, he heard the click
of my lock as I set the trigger. He paused an instant.
His gaze became unsteady, and his head hung down a
little, so that his broadbrimmed palm leaf hat almost
obscured his eyes. I saw that he was pale, and that the
hand which held the reins trembled. I was convinced he
was as much of a coward as myself; but I knew he was
a dangerous man, and would shoot me in the back if he
should get the opportunity.
“What are you going to do?” he finally asked, in a
squeaking, tremulous tone. I was afraid to speak myself.
I felt that I could not do it without betraying great agitation
and alarm. So I merely responded by a motion of
the head for him to pass on his way.
“Do you intend to shoot?” continued he. Again I
made a motion for him to pass, and this time with more
energy and impatience. He now looked me imploringly
in the face. It did not require language to express more
audibly his hope that I would not shoot him in the back
when he had passed. He was capable of doing such a
thing himself, but had sufficient knowledge of human
nature to suppose that I would be incapable of perpetrating
so base an act. So he rode on, very slowly, with his face
turned towards me. As he rubbed by, I turned too, by
degrees, so as to watch all his motions. He still did not
dare to shift the rifle from his shoulder, knowing that such
a movement would be the signal for me to fire, and I was
in the best attitude to fire first, and with the most precision.
Now I had resolved not to fire at all. I had no intention
of taking his life. And I was satisfied that if I once discharged
my gun, without fatal effect, I would have no
chance of escape. Hence I had determined, the instant
into the bushes and hide myself, convinced that he would
abandon the ground the moment I was concealed from his
view, as I would then have it in my power to fire upon
him from a covert. I thought, besides, I would have
a better chance to escape his aim in the bushes. The
woodman will never follow the rattlesnake into a thicket.
But I was no serpent, and there was no necessity for me
to put my project into execution. He passed on, and as he
advanced, he mended his gait. When he was fifty yards off,
he spurred his horse into a brisk trot. I was not yet quite
out of danger, knowing well the capabilities of the rifle;
and so I maintained my position until he was one hundred
and fifty yards distant, and hidden from view by a turn
in the road. Then, for the first time, I recollected that
my rifle was not loaded! I was almost prostrated with
the sudden shock produced by this consciousness. It is
true I had not pictured to my mind the contingency
which would have induced me to fire. But there was such
a contingency, and I knew it, although I would not think
of it. The “little bit of lead,” which I had supposed
was in my rifle, was my only reliance in a final struggle.
And now I remembered that my gun was empty.
I sprang upon my horse, dashed through the brook at
a gallop, and never paused until I was a quarter of a mile out
in the prairie on the opposite side. Then I dismounted,
trembling like an aspen leaf, and too feeble and unsteady
to stand. My fears brought on a slight fit of the ague;
and after I had, with great difficulty, succeeded in charging
my rifle, I lay down on my saddle blanket until the fever
which followed the chill had in a measure subsided.
I was roused by the sound of a horse's tramp approaching.
me at a rapid rate.
“What's the matter with you there? Why, is it you,
dear Luke?” exclaimed she, checking her panting horse
suddenly, and leaping to the ground. The horse began to
graze about with mine (most of the horses were trained
never to leave their riders when suffered to go loose in the
prairie, and even to follow, should their masters wander
away), while the girl stood at my side. It was Polly
Beckel, whom I dreaded to meet almost as much as the
Irishman. But she had no rifle, and she did not look
revengeful. Nevertheless, she knew how to use fire-arms;
so I instinctively threw out the priming from my lock.
“What's the matter, Luke?” she continued, seating
herself beside me on the grass.
“I had a slight chill—that's all,” said I.
“Let me see,” said she, feeling my pulse. “You have
a little fever—though not much.”
“But I have pretty much of a headache,” said I, “and
must get out of this hot sun, or it will get worse.”
“Well, come along with me, Luke; we have some
`bitters' at our house that will cure you.”
“No,” said I, firmly. “I am riding on business which
must be attended to.”
“Pshaw, Luke! don't be afraid of me—I won't hurt
you. You mustn't mind my nonsense at the store. I was
in a kind of girlish spree then, and determined to do something
that would be talked about, and laughed at.”
“I hope you don't think it could be possible for me to
be afraid of you, or any woman?” said I, coolly and deliberately.
“No, not actually afraid of me,” said she, with a very
commendable seriousness—for indeed her tone and manner
—“but shy, or backward to participate in my fun and frolic,
when I am in the humor. If you had romped boldly with
me, of course you would have triumphed. I never go
beyond a certain extent with the men, and have more than
once been under the necessity of repulsing their rudeness.
My father has brought me up badly—but my mother fortunately
succeeded in counteracting his bad breeding in some
degree. You never hear anything said about me worse
than what you have seen.” I thought that bad enough.
But it was true there were no other imputations on her
character, and she had given the right version of her qualities.
Remembering that I had a bill against her father, I told
her I would visit her house the next day, but that now
I must insist on parting from her, as I had to stop at a
dwelling not so far off, where I had business, and where
I would be able to get relief.
That dwelling was Mr. Middletown's. Mr. M., contrary
to his usual custom, had been induced to run up a
liberal account with us, and had recently intimated that he
would be ready with the money whenever I might see proper
to call for it.
“Oh yes!” cried she, laughing, as she sprang with
immense agility on her horse. “I understand; you are
going down there to be nursed by Miss Maria. I heard
the other day that she says you made the tender of your hand
to her first, and that she has neither accepted nor declined
it yet, but still keeps the proposition under consideration.
You are going, perhaps, to hear her decision?”
“No, indeed,” said I; “I feel like anything else than a
lover, now; and besides, to tell you the plain truth, I left
my sweetheart behind me, when I came to Missouri.”
“Hum, that's not an unusual case. You left her behind,
and so far behind, that the poor thing will never catch up
with you. But what kind of a looking girl is she?”
“Beautiful, of course,” said I. “She is tall, with gray
eyes, long black hair, rather dark skin, and good teeth.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Then she is left behind for good. But
remember, if you think to marry Maria, I give you warning
that I will have you proceeded against for bigamy. It
would be best for you to get a divorce from me—you know
it is easily done in Missouri.”
“Ha, ha! But now, in solemn earnestness,” said I,
laughing in my turn, “will you really take me for better,
for worse, &c.?”
“Do you mean that as a serious proposition?” said she,
looking archly over her shoulder, as her horse moved slowly
away.
I said nothing, but watched the mischievous expression
of her countenance.
“If you do,” she continued, “I tell you plainly that I
will; and if you don't, I sha'n't care a fig. I can enjoy
myself in my own way, as I have always done, free as the
air, without being yoked with a husband. But this is all
folly. I know I wouldn't suit you; and if we were to be
married (as we came very nigh being once), you would be
getting a divorce in a year or two. Good-by.”
And so we parted. I rode on to Mr. Middletown's,
where I had a hearty welcome, and every attention that
could be devised to alleviate my aching head. When
the sun went down, the pain subsided, and then I related
the particulars of my encounter with the Irishman. They
all listened with concern, and more especially Miss Maria.
It is so with the young and innocent; they take a more
lively interest in the dangers and woes of others than those
go” in her fair face, as I told my story; and when the danger
was past, she made no effort to conceal her satisfaction.
But when I proceeded to narrate the particulars of the succeeding
encounter, she did not evince by her looks or
speech any pleasure. On the contrary, Miss Polly received
on that occasion a most unmerciful castigation from the
tongue of the modest and pretty Miss Middletown, and her
parents united with her in censuring the wild girl.
Mr. Middletown not only paid me the amount of his
account in money, but he entertained me like a lord. He
was one of the earliest settlers in the country, and had by
this time every comfort about him that he had enjoyed in
Virginia. He had built a commodious brick house, (one
of his negro men being a mason and another a carpenter,)
without having to expend any money in its erection, except
for window glass, nails, locks, and such small articles.
He had a good horse-mill erected in the same manner, to
say nothing of his ample barn, stables, cider-press, &c.
His farm, consisting of about a thousand acres, and which
had cost him originally only $1250 ($1 25 per acre), was
nearly equally divided between prairie and timber land.
The former was now well enclosed and in a high state of
cultivation. It was laid off in beautiful square fields of
corn, wheat, oats, hemp, tobacco, flax, &c., and each yielded
an abundant crop, for the soil and climate of Missouri are
eminently adapted to the growth of them all. He had
extensive orchards, apple, peach, and cherry, besides pear
and plum trees, and grape vines, distributed in profusion in
the ample garden, in the yard, and along the fence rows.
Then beyond the fields, in the prairie, there were nigh a
hundred head of fat cattle grazing, all in full view; beyond
these were some fifteen or twenty mares and colts, the latter
the prairie, and only a few dozen in the immediate neighborhood
of the house, and even there the wolves would
sometimes assail them. But the swine were literally innumerable,
for they had increased so rapidly, as he said, that
he could not keep a correct account of their number. Then
the immense congregation of poultry! This was the peculiar
property of Mrs. M. and Maria. Such flocks of turkeys,
geese, ducks, and chickens, I had never beheld anywhere
else. The old lady told me that her negroes had chickens
and eggs, fresh butter and milk, and the best of bacon in
abundance, to say nothing of an endless amount of honey,
every day of the year, and they seemed to be truly contented
with their lot. I have dwelt more particularly on
the condition of this well-conducted farm, inasmuch as I
have learned that the produce sent from it to market annually,
at a subsequent period, after retaining sufficient for
the subsistence of the family, amounted, when turned into
hard money, to $1500. And this was only one among ten
thousand. Yet there are twenty thousand others, destined
to run the same glorious career of transformation from a
state of unproductive wilderness to a blooming Eden. But
two days' travel in one of the fine steamers now plying those
waters, will bring one to other lands of equal value and
beauty, and which may be had for one dollar and a quarter
per acre. And yet they are settled but slowly. The acquisition
of Texas, California and Oregon has tended to
retard the progress of civilization nearer home. Men
are running mad with ideas of wealth and happiness, inconsiderately
promised them in those distant and almost
inaccessible regions, which are never to be realized. Long
trains of emigrant wagons, with women and helpless children,
may now be seen every year toiling their weary way
to seek an abode in those distant provinces. Should they
be so fortunate as to arrive at the point of their destination,
there are no means, or very inadequate ones, of sending their
products to market. Whereas, on the Missouri river, the
farmer is about as nigh to New Orleans as the growers of
Kentucky, Ohio, Tennessee, and Indiana. From the farthest
settlements up the river, steamers run down in three or four
days to St. Louis, and in about as many more to New Orleans.
The lands on the Ohio river are worth from forty to
sixty dollars per acre—in Missouri, improved lands can be
bought for five dollars. An active competition must inevitably
graduate this enormous disparity in value, like
spreading water, to an equable and natural level.
When about to set out the next morning, after a rich
warm breakfast, and entirely relieved of all the effects of
my excitement and illness of the previous day, one of
Mr. Middletown's sons, a youth of ten years, seeing my
rifle, told me that he had seen a fine buck, about half a
mile distant, grazing in the prairie within fifty yards of the
timber. Maria, from whom I had already taken leave,
but who was now sitting at an upper window, cried out,
“Yonder's the deer; I can see him distinctly from this
window. I will watch him while you creep up and shoot
him.”
I determined to exhibit to Miss Maria a specimen of my
skill as a marksman, and set off in a cautious manner in
the direction of the deer, accompanied by Mr. M. and his
son. When we had followed a narrow path through the
bushes which grew out some fifty paces beyond the timber
to within two hundred paces of the deer, I dismounted,
and Mr. M. held my horse, while his son proposed to guide
me through the dense undergrowth to the spot from which
feet from the bushes, where Mr. M. could see me and the
deer at the same time, and participate in the sport. Master
Peyton preceded me, and we commenced our approach on
our hands and knees. When we got within fifty paces of the
spot from which I was to fire, I became entangled in the
vines, and had to use my knife to cut myself loose. Master
Peyton grew very impatient, fearing the buck would
“scent us,” and run away. He, being smaller than I, had
got through without difficulty, and did not seem to take
my superior dimensions into consideration. He was only
intent on seeing the buck bite the dust, for the occasional
glimpses we had of him showed he was still biting the
grass very unsuspectingly. At length I became extricated,
and continued to follow Master Peyton's lead. Finally
we arrived at the edge of the thicket. Here Master Peyton
paused, without removing his gaze from the deer, while I
crept out to the appointed tuft of high grass. I viewed the
noble buck with admiration, resting on my knees and hands.
I turned and saw that Master Peyton's eyes grew larger
and larger, and were fixed immovably on the buck. I
looked beyond, and saw Mr. Middletown stamping with
impatience, and making gestures for me to fire. The buck
lifted his head and snuffed the breeze. He pricked up his
ears and distended his nostrils, as if fearful of some lurking
danger.
“Shoot, Luke, or give up the gun!” shouted Mr. Middletown.
I had no gun. I had left it among the grape
vines, where I had put it down to get the knife out of my
pocket, and in my intense anxiety to reach the tuft of high
grass, had forgotten to bring it along. I felt mortified beyond
description. The eyes of all, even the beautiful blue
ones of Miss Maria, were on the scene.
“Shoot, Luke, or give up the gun to Peyton!” again
shouted Mr. Middletown. His first cry had attracted the
attention of the buck in that direction. But this time he
heard a sound not so distant.
“He's going to run, Mr. Shortfield! Shoot quick!”
said Master Peyton. He did run. I walked out in the
open space and looked at him bound away, without the
ability to send a leaden messenger after him.
“Why did you not shoot?” asked Mr. Middletown, who
galloped up on my horse.
“I won't tell you,” said I, “without you promise never
to tell it to any one else.”
“Well, I'll promise,” said he, smiling, and vainly looking
about for my rifle.
“Ha! ha! ha! He left it in the bushes—he left his
gun behind!” exclaimed Master Peyton—“and crept all
the way out here without it!”
“You have promised,” said I, very deprecatingly, “not
to tell on me. You may say I was in love, sick, forgetful
of the proximity of the buck, anything by way of excuse;
but if this thing were known in the county, all the old
hunters would plague me about it forever after.”
“I have promised,” said Mr. Middletown, smiling, as
we returned slowly in the direction of the house. But
Master Peyton had vanished. I caught a brief glimpse of
his cap, as he ran across one of the openings in the orchard.
In vain we screamed for him to come back; the only response
we had was a prolonged shout of laughter from the
house, which was repeated from the kitchen as the negroes
learned the fact.
I did not go by the house, preferring to make a shorter
cut across the prairie, to the main road leading up the
country. I parted from my sympathizing host with my
he called me back.
“Luke,” said he, “never mind it. All new deer hunters
must put up with similar mortifications. You will
have more of them before the fall is over, if you hunt any.
You will have to endure a fit of buck ague before you can
kill one. But you must come back—you have forgotten
your gun again.” It was true. I was riding away, leaving
my rifle in the bushes. I grew angry with myself, as I
turned my horse's head. Mr. Middletown soothed me all
he could, saying this forgetfulness only grew out of the
confusion of the first. I got my gun, and bidding a hasty
good-by to my host, rode off at a gallop.
When I was passing a corner of the most distant field
belonging to Mr. Middletown, and still in view of the
house, I heard the same buck leaping through the corn.
It came towards the corner of the fence. Quickly I sprang
from my horse, (which had once been shot through the ear
by an unskillful hunter, and would not suffer me to fire
from his back,) and throwing the rifle up to my shoulder,
waited for the buck to leap over into the prairie. I was
now buoyant with hope, and confident of success. It
would be a glorious triumph over Master Peyton, to
bring down the noble fellow, at the time that he was
making game of me for permitting him to escape. I did
not wait long. On it came, and springing majestically
over the high fence, stopped stock still, in full view, not
twenty paces distant, with his broad blue side exposed to
my aim. I leveled deliberately, and snapped. We used
flint guns then. He turned his head and looked me in the
face. I trembled, but drew back the cock and—snapped
again. The buck leaped on in graceful undulations across
the level plain. I snapped at him a third time as he ran,
I recollected having thrown out the priming on the previous
day, to prevent Miss Beckel from doing any mischief,
and that I had not replenished it! But now there
was no witness to my confusion—at least I hoped no
one observed me from the house. And my confusion was
only the worse confounded, when I reflected that my disappointment
would have been certain in the first instance,
even if I had not forgotten my gun in the bushes.
I now strove to banish my mishaps from my mind,
(having first primed my gun,) with thoughts of business.
I looked over my accounts, and shaped my course for the
nighest debtor. That day I dispatched business at a rapid
rate, and by the evening, when I approached the house of
Mr. Beckel, my pockets were well filled with bank notes
and hard dollars.
As I rode up to the fence, I saw more than a dozen
young ladies and gentlemen about the premises. Of course
I knew them all, and felt “at home” among them. It appeared
that Polly, in anticipation of my arrival, had invited
the company thither, to have a “jollification” that night.
We had an abundant supper, and afterwards a dance to a
three-stringed violin—cards, “bitters,” and all sorts of
country games. That night, for the first time in my life,
I had to kiss some of the girls, and my backwardness and
awkwardness caused no little merriment. But the amusement
was not altogether to my fancy; and, besides, I was
weary from my incessant riding that day. The rest of the
folks determined to keep up the fun until broad daylight
the next morning; but I stole away to rest before midnight.
Mrs. Beckel took pity on me, and prepared me a couch on
the floor of one of the rooms. The house was one of the
second class, made of hewn logs, and consisting of two
carried on. This hall was twenty feet long, and fifteen
wide, having neither door nor other means of enclosure at
the ends. The floor of the hall, as well as of both rooms,
was composed of flat hewn timber, several inches thick.
The room in which I lay was divided into several small
compartments, by temporary partitions, made of quilts suspended
from the joists above. I was too drowsy to be particular
about the construction of my chamber; and so, after
pulling off my boots, coat, and vest, I threw myself down
on the pallet, and was perfectly oblivious of everything
around me in a few minutes.
I had not slept twenty minutes, perhaps, before I was
roused by the indomitable Polly, who placed her hand on
my shoulder, and shook me gently. She held a wax candle
in the other hand, (bees-wax was frequently used by
the inhabitants,) which threw a brilliant glare in my face.
I had been dreaming of robbers, and the first movement I
made was to place my hand on my rifle, which stood
against the wall near my head.
“Don't shoot me,” said she, with a mischievous smile.
“I am no robber. But I'll relieve you of your money, if
you please. Give it to me; I'll be answerable that it is
forthcoming in the morning. I have an old stocking will
hold it, specie, bank notes and all.” So saying, she turned
to an old oak chest, which was secured by a thick iron
clasp and ponderous padlock, from which she brought the
article named, the common purse of the country, and very
deliberately took the treasure from under my pillow, and
deposited it in its ample pocket. Then, instead of placing
it in the chest, she ran up a small ladder a few rounds, and
carelessly threw it on a board lying loosely on the joists.
“There!” said she, “it's safe now. Nobody, even if
looking in such a place for money. The old chest might
be carried off and split open with an axe. Now, come!
They have sent after you, and are waiting for me. You
must dance once more, or they will not let you sleep a
wink to-night. Some of the men have gone home, and
some are playing cards, and there are not enough to make
up the set without you. I want you to be my partner.
After this set, I will break up the dance, and then you can
slip back to your snug bed. You must come. The whole
frolic was got up in honor of you. Never mind your coat
and neck-cloth—but you had better put on your boots, or
else a splinter may run into your foot.” She literally pulled
me to my feet, and so there was no remedy. I was compelled
very reluctantly to join the company again. It was
the longest reel I ever witnessed. The same figures were
repeated over and over again, until each couple became
entirely exhausted. At length Polly gave me a significant
squeeze of the hand, and at the same time, “gave the
wink” to the old black fellow that played the violin. He
tossed his head on his left shoulder, and scraped away
with tremendous violence. In a moment, snap! snap! went
the remaining strings.
“Thar!” said Cesar—“we's done for dis night, 'cept
some gentleum goes to de store at Pike Bluff, for more
strings; dese's all worn out, and is too short to be mended
agin.” And so he laid down the violin, while the party
were just in the middle of a most animated figure.
“Here we are, all brought up standing!” said a very
corpulent Miss, whose violent panting made her look as
though she was galloping instead of standing.
“Cuss the old nigger!” exclaimed another.
“It's not his fault,” said Polly. “The strings were
tired. But we can sing ballads, now, and enjoy ourselves.”
Once more I stole away, and was soon fast asleep, not
again to be molested. I rose very early in the morning,
and lifting the curtains, groped my way out. I was startled
on my way, however, to see the near proximity of my
couch to that occupied by the females, four or five of whom
were sleeping soundly on a broad pallet, and no male but
myself having been placed in that room. Such scenes afforded
me no pleasure; nor do I derive any from the description
of them. But such is a true account of the manners
and customs of new countries.
Although the dim twilight of morning was becoming
visible in the hall, yet the candles still burned on the table
in the next room, and the card-players were still at their
work. My appearance was the signal for them to rise.
They had not been playing for large stakes, and so no one
had sustained any material loss. In fact, the young men
were poor, and Mr. Beckel, who had more than once, on
former occasions, been known to stake and win a negro,
had no opportunity of increasing his store of ill-gotten
gains. He paid me the amount of my bill; and after adding
to it a hearty breakfast, I took my leave of him, with
my ponderous stocking, which had been safely delivered
into my hand by Polly.
My road lay along a narrow strip of level heavily-timbered
bottom land, while a steep hill, likewise covered
with trees, rose on my right hand. I had not gone more
than a quarter of a mile before I roused a very large buck
from its lair near the road-side. I stopped my horse to
survey its enormous antlers, as it bounded over the under-growth
towards the hill. It run up the steep ascent some
gazing down at me very deliberately. We looked at each
other a considerable length of time, and neither of us
seemed disposed to move off first. At length, it occurred
to me that he was not beyond the reach of my rifle, and I
determined to give the matter a trial, if he should continue
thus to banter me until I could dismount and take a deliberate
aim at him. I was indifferent about success, and
hence I was perfectly cool and self-possessed—a feeling
which must be attained by all successful hunters. So I
got down, drew up my gun, and fired with the same nonchalance
that I would have done at a target. At the
crack of my rifle, Sir Antler fell sprawling in his tracks.
But the instant I perceived that he was really shot, I was
seized with an uncontrollable fit of trembling. In vain I
called my philosophy and reason to my aid. They would
not come at my bidding. The idea that I had so unexpectedly
brought down so noble a prize, completely unnerved
me. It may have been joy and exultation; but it
was certainly a very unmanly and disagreeable sensation.
I ran up the hill, however, for the purpose of cutting
the buck's throat, an operation invariably performed by
hunters, so that the blood may be cast out while it is
warm. When I approached quite nigh my fallen victim,
he raised his head and looked fiercely at me. His
eyes were green with rage, and his hair was all standing
out forward, instead of inclining backwards in its natural
position. I paused; I saw that the ball had taken effect
just where the shoulder-blades come together on the back;
he was disabled in both fore legs, and could not possibly
escape, although the wound was not sufficient to cause his
death immediately. I saw him gradually turn round, until
his head was pointed towards me. Then by degrees he
when it was almost too late. I was only some ten feet
below him. On my left, about four feet distant, stood an
oak tree somewhat thicker than my body. My gun was
empty, and the fury of the animal's stare sent a cold chill
along my spine, similar to the sensation the Irishman had
produced. At first I attempted to approach the tree very
gently, hoping my soft movement would not be noticed
by the buck. But I was mistaken. I saw him in the act
of springing down on me. I made a desperate leap for
the tree as he sprang at me. A protruding root saved me.
His horns rattled upon the bark, covering me with fragments.
The sound resembled in my ear the lunge of
crossed bayonets. He fell on the upper side of the tree,
and gathered his legs up for another spring, should I
attempt to escape. I peeped round the tree, and met
his eye of deadly defiance. He was ready for a renewal
of the conflict, but had to wait until I exposed a sufficient
mark for him to assail. With trembling hands I hastily
charged my gun, spilling more than half the powder on
the ground, and running down a naked ball. With this
I fired at his broad forehead, not three feet distant. The
lead was only mashed flat against the thick bone, like a
sixpence, and fell to the ground between his feet; he did
nothing more than shake his head contemptuously, and prepare
to make another dash at me. I stepped back a few
inches, so as to be hidden from his view by the intervening
tree. But I felt that I was not safe. There was a larger
tree some twenty feet below me. I sprang towards it, and
when I reached it, the sharp prongs of my adversary's
horns were buried in the earth but a few inches from my
feet. Again I loaded my gun and fired—but so great was
my trepidation that the bullet only grazed the skin on the
refuge in my new tree, I resolved to suspend active operations
for a time, in the endeavor to recover a degree of
self-possession, and in the hope that the animal might
grow weaker from loss of blood, which flowed profusely
from his wound, and ran down to my feet. Both of my
objects were realized. I soon saw that the lips and tongue
of the buck grew very pale; and as he became weaker, I
got stronger. I then found no difficulty in charging my
gun in a proper manner. The foe was still game. When
I exposed myself a little too far on one side of the tree, so
as to be enabled to take a sure aim, he immediately assumed
the attitude of assault, and I was under the necessity
of drawing back again. The next time I looked, however,
I saw that he was very faint, and sinking; but he
still maintained an aspect of defiance and an aggressive
attitude. His eyes became glazed and inanimate a few
moments after, and then I gave him the contents of my
gun with unerring precision. He did not move. He was
dead—and I believe he was dead when I fired. I then
felt some sorrow for what I had done, mingled with admiration
of the brave conduct of the noble animal.
By this time the repeated reports of my rifle had attracted
the attention of the family I had recently parted from, and
the old fiddler was sent out to see what I was doing. I
showed him my prize, and told him to go back and get
a horse, and then to present the buck in my name to Miss
Polly.
I rode on my way, now remembering distinctly the advice
that had more than once been given me by old
hunters—never to approach a deer, or bear, or even a fox
or turkey, which I had shot down, without first reloading
my rifle. The game might not be dead, and might require
might be others in the vicinity; and I might “catch a
tartar,” in going hastily and unprepared to meet a wounded
buck—often the fiercest and most dangerous animal that
runs in the woods.
When I reached the high prairie, I met Mr. White, who
“was going to town,” and by him I sent all the money I
had collected. He had heard all about my “buck scrape”
at Mr. Middletown's, and laughed heartily at my absence of
mind, attributing it of course to a “dear” of another description.
Some had me in love with Miss M., some with
one of the Misses W., and all said that Miss Polly was in
love with me. It was a jest all round, and I began to enjoy
the joke as much as any of them. I related to Mr. W.
all the particulars of my last adventure, and made him
confess that I had retrieved my character as a hunter. He
said he would tell this exploit whenever he heard the other
mentioned.
I rode on in quest of more money, and had more or less
success wherever I went. There had been several severe
frosts recently, and the leaves on the trees and bushes
were beginning to turn yellow, and red, and to drop off.
The tall grass became dry, but there was always a green
undergrowth sufficient for the stock until late in December;
and the scene near the settlements was still animated
and beautified with flocks, and herds browsing on the
extended plains.
However, as I departed farther from the river, the settlements
became more scarce, and the groves so few in
number and so small in extent, that the scene before me
was that of an almost undiversified plain. The road I traveled
was reduced to a very slightly-marked track through
the mottled grass. After having called at several houses,
business much in the way that satisfied me most, I was
informed that the next neighbor I designed seeing lived
some fifteen miles distant, and that there was no house on
my way. It was then pretty late in the afternoon of a
short day, and I felt a little uneasy about the chances of
missing my way, should the night overtake me. But
resolving to “take my chance,” I pushed on.
When the sun was darting his last golden rays across
the horizon before me, I began to grow weary, and still
the house I sought was not in view. I could only see
some patches of scrubby timber six or eight miles a head,
and others as far distant on either hand. When it grew
dark, the wolves set up a frightful howling on every side
of me. I did not apprehend any danger of being attacked
by them; but still no one in my situation would have felt
altogether comfortable in mind. The scene around me
was a dreary waste—a deep solitude—enlivened by no
sounds but the fierce howls of carnivorous beasts. Should
any accident befall me, so as to render me incapable
of riding, or of defending myself, it was by no means improbable
that these animals might take a fancy to pick
my ribs. They grew bolder and bolder, and galloped
along the road before me, every now and then stopping,
two or three abreast, with their noses towards me, until
I trotted up to within twenty paces of them. Then they
would gallop off a few hundred yards, always keeping
precisely a head of me, and again turn and howl until I
approached close to them. The moon was now rising,
and I determined to give them a shot or two, when it
became a little lighter. The light did not seem to make
them more circumspect, and so I ventured to slip down
from my horse and blaze away at them. The scream and
had wounded one of them. After the smoke cleared away,
and after I was satisfied that none were coming towards
me, I reloaded my gun, and mounting my horse, rode forward
to see what had become of the party. The howling
was hushed, at all events, and so I had rid myself of one
annoyance. I soon beheld by the moonlight, several pools
of blood in the path where the wolves had been standing;
and then I heard a kicking kind of noise, or rustling, in
some low hazel bushes a little distance on my right hand.
I rode thither, expecting to find the wolf in his last agonies.
But all was quiet. I was convinced that he was “done
for,” and searched about a considerable length of time in
quest of him. I met with no success, and reluctantly
abandoned the hunt. But now I was in a sad quandary.
I had twisted and turned about so much in my search
that I had lost my direction, and could not, for the life of me,
indicate to a certainty the course I had been pursuing. I
found the path, after making several circuits; but I could not
decide which end of it to take, as the whole firmament had
been suddenly overcast with clouds, which began to let
fall some pattering drops of rain, and completely obscured
the half-filled moon. Like the serpent, it was impossible
to tell whether I was “going forward or coming back.” I
hesitated in this dilemma for many minutes. At last,
another adage of the hunter occurred to me, and was the
means of my extrication. I threw the reins on my horse's
neck, trusting to his instinct to find out the nearest corncrib.
At first he was content with the food nearer at hand,
so he thrust down his head, and began very leisurely to
pluck the short tender grass that grew near the roots of
the older growth, now in a state of decay. This did not
satisfy me, and I touched him pretty sharply with the spur.
turned short about and pursued briskly a contrary direction
to the one I had come nigh adopting.
My faithful white horse, equal to “Old Whitey” himself
in sagacity, pursued his course with confidence, and increased
his pace when he found that I still did not attempt
to guide him. He had not gone more than three or four
miles, when I distinctly heard a watch-dog's bark, an unerring
sign that we were approaching a house. The sky was
still overcast, and it was impossible for me to descry any
house or other object in the distance, until my horse paused
abruptly, when I discovered that he had his head over
the fence which enclosed the little yard surrounding the
house I was seeking. There were no lights in the house,
the family having retired to rest, or rather thrown themselves
down to sleep, as there was but one room in the
dwelling. My horse neighed, and aroused the inmates
before I had time to call them up. The first response
was the deep bay of the watch-dog, which was now in the house.
“Who's that?” cried a voice from the partially opened
door.
“It is I, Luke Shortfield. Is that you, Mr. Swissel?”
“Yes. Hop down—give me your nag—go in—you'll
find the old woman there in bed,” said he, coming forward,
and taking the bridle of my steed.
“It looks like rain,” said I.
“Yes, and it roars like it, out yonder in the prairie,”
he replied. “If you hadn't found us out as soon as you
did, you'd have got your shirt washed in the saddle.
You've just escaped a scouring, I tell you!”
There was, indeed, a mighty roar now distinctly heard
in the direction whence I had come! I walked into the
or pen, built of small poles. The old lady was up and
stirring by this time; and holding a small iron lamp in her
hand, which threw a faint light around, she tendered me
a hearty welcome. She wore her night-gown and cap,
not deeming it necessary to dress for the reception of
company.
“Take a seat, sir, and rest yourself,” said she, handing
me a hickory-bottomed chair, on which I fairly sunk,
feeling thankful that I had at last found a resting-place.
“I'll have you something to eat, in a few minutes,” she
continued, removing the ashes from an ample bed of red
coals in the broad fire-place. “I have coffee,” she continued,
“but no sugar; can you drink honey in your coffee?”
“Just give me a cup of milk, Mrs. Swissel; I always
prefer it for supper,” said I. This she had in abundance,
and in an unadulterated, or at least in an undiluted state.
And by the time Mr. Swissel entered, the room was filled
with savory odors from rich slices of venison ham coiling
about on the large live coals. The next minute, I was devouring
with wolfish voracity the contents of a capacious
pewter platter. The rich bread made of Indian corn, the
richer milk, and still richer butter, honey, and venison ham,
were more grateful to the palate and stomach than any
hasty collation I have since partaken of. When I had
finished my repast, the faithful dog, seeing I was an acquaintance
of his master, came forward and gave me a
welcome too. He wagged his tail, sneezed, rubbed his
head against my legs, and employed all the usual devices
of the sensible canine race to attract my attention, and
manifest his friendly disposition. I gave him what he
wanted, the fragments left in the platter, which I thought
was the kind of notice he most desired from me. The rain
showers, I could easily hear my faithful steed grinding his
ample supply of corn. The stable adjoined the house, and
neither of the buildings was constructed with a view to a
total exclusion of healthful ventilation. Some half dozen
children lay upon the floor, their only beds a few long-haired
deer skins. They merely raised their heads to gaze
at me a moment, then sank back, and resumed their slumbers.
A couch of deer skins (Swissel was a great hunter, and
indeed a kind of Jack-of-all-trades), was prepared for me.
Over this was spread a sheet, as well as a quilt for covering;
and throwing myself down, I was soon fast asleep.
Once during the night I was awakened by the dog. He
had laid himself down on the unoccupied portion of my
soft pillow, and his nose was resting in too close proximity
to my neck. I could feel his breath on my cheek,
and felt indignant at his audacious presumption. To my
“get away, sir!” he paid no attention. I then placed my
hand on his head, and endeavored to thrust him away. To
this he responded with a deep angry growl, which made
me relinquish my hold and beat a retreat. He took advantage
of my retrograde movement, and pushed himself
farther on the pillow, now almost entirely abandoned to
him. I determined not to submit to this impertinence. I
kept a huge watch-dog myself at the store, and knew something
of the habits and repugnances of the animal. Tobacco
is their abomination. I got up gently, and lighting
a cigar, resumed my recumbent posture on the disputed
territory. I commenced operations cautiously, fearing my
opponent might resent my offensive measure, by becoming
still more an aggressor. I kept at a respectful distance at
first, puffing in the direction of his nose; once or twice he
against his head, but again resuming his position. I ventured
closer to him, and completely enveloped his head in
a cloud of smoke. This time he sneezed, and coughed,
and opened his eyes. I grew bolder, and ventured to
touch his nose with the fire on the end of the cigar. He
then abandoned the ground, with a whining yelp, and ran
to the farthest corner of the room. I threw the cigar in
the fire, and met with no other molestation during the
night.
We were all up at dawn. The storm had blown over,
and the sky was bright again. I mentioned the conduct
of the dog to my host, who said I ought to have shot
him. He said, however, that he was under the necessity
of shutting up the dog in the house every night, to prevent
the wolves from killing him. They had killed several for
him in the yard, and in the stable, and would penetrate his
house if there was an opening in it of sufficient size to
admit them.
“You've come,” said Swissel, as we rose from the
breakfast-table, which was a large pine box turned bottom
upwards, “at the time I appointed to pay you, but I have
only twenty-five cents in the house; still you shall have the
money before we part. I have a carry-all load of good
trunks, covered with deer skins, made by myself, and made
well, too, which I am just going to sell. I will go along
with you, and as I sell them I will hand over the money
to you.”
He did accompany me, much to my satisfaction, for he
was one of the best guides in the country, and some of the
houses I had to visit were difficult to find. For more
than a week we traveled together, during which time he
met with purchasers for all his trunks, and paid me the
one of nature's own pioneers; he was perfectly happy in
a state of semi-civilization, and in no other state. Subsequently,
when his neighbors encroached too much on his
primitive hunting-grounds, he went to Oregon.
At the end of a few weeks I had completed my circuit,
without any incidents or adventures materially differing
from those related. My brother Joseph was much pleased
with the result of my collections, which amounted to a considerable
sum. This amount, added to what he had taken
in the store during my absence, would suffice to discharge
all his liabilities in the east.
When winter set in, my brother departed on his journey
to Philadelphia, every mile of which had to be traversed by
land, as the rivers were closed with ice. At a later day, as
the jobbers became familiar with the kind of goods sold in
those distant regions; and as mutual confidence was established,
most of the western merchants adopted the preferable
plan of ordering their early supplies by letter, instead
of encountering the fatigues of travel in an inclement
season. This practice is still continued, and they await
the opening of navigation, when a journey to the east
is altogether an agreeable recreation.
I had the sole charge of the store. But it could not
be supposed there would be much business transacted in
the winter. The stock was reduced to about the amount
of the profits of the concern; and all I was expected to do
was to be able to realize enough cash by spring to pay the
charges (then enormously high—the freight from Philadelphia
to Pittsburgh alone being sometimes as much as
four dollars per hundred pounds), on the new goods.
When left alone in the cold dreary snows of that memorable
despondency hitherto unknown to me. The bleak winds
howled through the trees around the building, and the
hooting owl perched upon the chimney. My encounter
with the Irishman, and the fame of my skill with the rifle,
together with my large yellow lion-breasted house-dog, contributed
to produce to some extent, a feeling of security
during the long solitary nights. By day, I had frequently
the company of Lieutenant A., once a meritorious officer in
the army, but, from misfortune and injustice, then in thraldom
to habits of intemperance. He had sought an obscure
asylum, to die unlamented, and now occupied an
apartment at the ferry house. He was very intelligent,
and very polished in his manners, when sober. When his
sensibilities were drowned in potations, he was inoffensive,
for even then a sense of propriety kept him away from the
store. Many a weary hour we whiled away over the
chess-board, in the narration of adventures, and in various
entertaining discussions. Peace to his ashes—now the
only remains of a noble spirit crushed to earth!
| CHAPTER V. The western merchant | |