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Descent of Fox River--Blackbirds--Menomonies--Rice
fields--Starving Indians--Thunder storm--Dream--An Indian struck
dead with lightning--Green Bay--Death of Colonel Haines--Incidents
of the journey from Green Bay to Michilimackinack--Reminiscences of
my early life and travels--Choiswa--Further reminiscences of my
early life--Ruins of the first mission of Father Marquette--Reach
Michilimackinack.
1825. August 26th. A PORTAGE of about one mile and a
quarter was before us.
At day-break two ox carts, which I had ordered in the evening, came,
and took our baggage across to the banks of Fox River. The canoes
were carried over by the different crews. On reaching the banks of
the Fox River, I concluded to stay for the purpose of breakfasting.
I added to my stock of eatables, a bag of potatoes, and some butter
and milk, purchased from a Frenchman, who resided here. It was about
nine o'clock A.M. when we embarked on the Fox, and we began its
descent with feelings not widely different from those of a boy who
has carried his sled, in winter, up the steep side of a hill,
that he may enjoy the pleasure of riding down. The Fox River
is serpentine, almost without a parallel; it winds about like a
string that doubles and redoubles, and its channel is choked with
fields of wild rice; from which rose, continually, immense flocks of
blackbirds. They reminded me very forcibly of the poet's line--
"The birds of
heaven shall vindicate their grain."
Mr. Holliday the elder and his son made several unsuccessful shots
at them. I did not regret their ill success, and was pleased to hear
them singing--
"As sweetly
and gayly as ever before."
We met several canoes of Menomonies. We stopped for dinner near a
lodge of them, who were in a starving condition. I distributed bread
and corn among them. They presented me a couple of dishes of a
species of berry, which they call Neekimen-een, or
Brant-berry. It is a black, tasteless berry, a little larger than
the whortleberry. We encamped at the head of Pukwa Lake.
27th. A very severe shower of rain fell about three o'clock
A.M.; it detained us in our camp until five, when we embarked. Why
should I relate to you our dull progress through fields of
rice--through intricate channels, and amidst myriads of ducks and
wild water fowl. This day has been hot, beyond any experience on the
journey. I sank back in my canoe, in a state of apathy and
lassitude, partly from the heat, and partly from indisposition. My
thoughts were employed upon home. A thousand phantoms passed through
my head. I tried to imagine how you were employed at this moment,
whether busy, or sick in your own room. It would require a volume to
trace my wandering thoughts. Let it suffice that another day is
nearly gone, and it has lessened the distance which separated us,
about seventy miles.
28th. I encamped, last night, near a large village of
Winnebagoes and Menomonies. They complained to me of want of food
and ammunition. I distributed among them a quantity of powder, ball,
and shot, and some bread, hard biscuit, pork, and tobacco. Never
were people more grateful, and never, I believe, was a more
appropriate distribution made. I had purchased these articles for
the Chippewa Nation, to be used on my contemplated voyage home, from
the Prairie, through Chippewa River and Lake Superior, before the
design of going that way was relinquished. The fact was, I could get
no men to go that way, so alarmed were they by the recent murder of
Finley and his party.
About two o'clock A.M. I was awoke by a very heavy storm of rain and
wind, attended with loud peals of thunder. The violence of the wind
blew down my tent, and my blankets, &c. received some damage. After
this mishap the wind abated, and having got my tent re-arranged, I
again went to sleep. I dreamt of attending the funeral of an
esteemed friend, who was buried with honors, attended to the grave
by a large train. I have no recollection of the name of this friend,
nor whether male or female. I afterwards visited the house of this
person, and the room in which he (or she) died. I closed the door
with dread and sorrow, afflicted by the views of the couch where one
so much esteemed had expired. The mansion was large, and elegantly
furnished. I lost my way in it, and rung a large bell that hung in
the hall. At this, many persons, male and female, came quickly into
the hall from folding doors, as if, I thought, they had been
summoned to dinner. As you have sometimes inclined to believe in
these fantastic operations of the human mind, when asleep, I record
them for your amusement, or reflection. Was this an allegory of the
destructive effects of the storm, mixed with my banquet to my Indian
friends, the Menomonies and Winnebagoes?
After descending the river more than twenty miles we landed at la
Butte des Morts to cook breakfast. Immediately on landing my
attention was attracted by a small white flag hanging from a high
pole. I went to It and found a recent Indian grave, very neatly and
carefully covered with boards. The Indian had been struck dead by
lightning a few days previous. Is this the interpretation of my
dream, or must I follow my fears to St. Mary's, to witness some of
our family suffering on the bed of sickness. God, in his mercy,
forbid!
This day was comparatively cool. On the previous days it was my
custom to sit in my shirt and sleeves. To-day, I kept on my surtout
all day, and my cloak over it until twelve. Such sudden changes in
the temperature of the seasons are the reproach of our climate. My
health has been better than for a few days back, owing, I believe,
solely to my abstinence both yesterday and the day before. How much
illness would be prevented by a proper attention to regimen. It is
now eight o'clock in the evening, I am sitting in my tent with a
candle standing on a rush mat, and my black trunk for a writing
desk. I am interrupted by the news that my supper is ready to be
brought in. How happy I should be if you could participate in my
frugal meal. In the language of Burns--
"Adieu a
heart-warm fond adieu."
29th. I encamped last night, at the foot of the Winnebago
Rapids, one mile below Winnebago Lake. I found the rapids of Fox
River, which begin here, more difficult to pass than on our ascent,
the water being much lower. We were necessarily detained many hours,
and most of the men compelled to walk. About six o'clock, P.M. we
reached the upper part of the settlement of Green Bay. I stopped a
few moments at Judge Doty's, and also a little below at Major
Brevoort's, the Indian agent of the post. We then proceeded to the
lower settlements, and encamped near the fort at Arndt's. Dr.
Wheaton met me on the beach, with several others. I supped and
lodged at Arndt's, having declined Dr. Wheaton's polite invitation
to sup, and take a bed with him. At tea I saw Mrs. Cotton, whom you
will recollect as Miss Arndt, and was introduced to her husband,
Lieutenant Cotton, U.S.A. I was also introduced to the Rev. Mr.
Nash, a clergyman of the Protestant Episcopal order, on missionary
duty here. I went to my room, as soon as I could disentangle myself
from these greetings, with a bundle of papers, to read up the news,
and was truly pained to hear of the death of my early friend Colonel
Charles G. Haines of New York, an account of which, with the funeral
honors paid to him, I read in the papers.
30th. The repair of my canoe, and the purchase of provisions
to recruit my supplies, consumed the morning, until twelve o'clock,
when I embarked, and called at the fort to pay my respects to Dr.
Wheaton. I found the dinner-table set. He insisted on my stopping
with Mr. H. to dinner, which, being an old friend and as one of my
men had absconded, and I was, therefore, delayed, I assented to. The
doctor and family evinced the greatest cordiality, and he sent down
to my canoe, after dinner, a quantity of melons, some cabbages, and
a bag of new potatoes. Before I could obtain another man and set out
again, it was three o'clock. I was obliged to forego the return of
some visits. We continued our voyage down the bay about 40 miles,
and encamped at 8 o'clock, having run down with a fair wind.
31st. Soon after quitting our camp this morning, a heavy wind
arose. It was partly fair, so as to permit our hoisting sail for a
few hours, but then shifted ahead, and drove us ashore. We landed on
a small island called Vermilion, off the south cape of Sturgeon Bay.
Here we remained all the remainder of the day and night. While there
detained I read "China, its Arts, Manufactures, &c.," a work
translated from the French, and giving a lively, and apparently
correct account of that singular people.
About two o'clock, P.M., we cut some of the water and musk-melons
presented by Dr. Wharton, and found them delicious. About 6 o'clock,
P.M., my cook informed me that he had prepared a supper, agreeably
to my directions, and we found his skill in this way by no means
despicable. Such are the trifles which must fill up my journal, for
did I only write what was fit for grave divines, or the scrutinizing
eye of philosophy to read, I fear I should have but a few meagre
sheets to present you on my return, and perhaps not a single
syllable witty or wise.
Sept. 1st. The wind abated during the night, and we were
early on the waters, and went on until eleven o'clock, when we
landed for breakfast. At twelve o'clock we went forward again, with
a fair wind. I read another volume of "China." "The Chinese ladies,"
says the author, "live very retired, wholly engaged in their
household affairs, and how to please their husbands. They are not,
however, confined quite so closely as is commonly supposed. The
females visit entirely amongst each other. There is no society or
circles in China to which the women are admitted. Marriages are a
mere matter of convenience, or, to speak with greater propriety, a
kind of bargain settled between the parents and relatives."
We came on very well, and encamped at the Little Detroit, or strait,
so called, in the Grand Traverse. This traverse separates Green Bay
from Lake Michigan. It is computed to be twenty miles over. A
cluster of islands enables canoes to pass. There are some
hieroglyphics on the rocks.
2d. We embarked at three o'clock, A.M., and went on very
well, until ten, when we stopped on one of the islands for
breakfast, having nearly completed the traverse. In the meantime the
wind arose in our favor, and we went on along the north shore of
Lake Michigan gayly. We passed the mouth of the Manistee River,
which interlocks with the Tacquimenon of Lake Superior, where some
of our St. Mary's Chippewas make their gardens. An aft wind and
light spirits are inseparable, whether a man be in a frigate or a
canoe. There is something in the air exhilarating. I have been
passing in retrospect, the various journeys I have made, but during
none has my anxieties to return been so great as this. What a
wonderful destiny it is that makes one man a traveler and another a
poet, a mathematician, &c. We appear to be guided by some innate
principle which has a predominating force. No man was more unlikely
to be a traveler than myself. I always thought myself to be domestic
in my feelings, habits, and inclinations, and even in very early
youth, proposed to live a life of domestic felicity. I thought such
a life inseparable from the married state, and resolved, therefore,
to get married, as soon as prudence and inclination would permit.
Notwithstanding this way of thinking my life has been a series of
active employment and arduous journeyings. I may say my travels
began even in childhood, for when only six or seven years old, I
recollect to have wandered off a long distance into the pine plains
of my native town, to view Honicroisa Hill, a noted object in that
part of the country, to the great alarm of all the family, who sent
out to search for me. My next journey was in my eleventh year, when
I accompanied my father, in his chaise, he dressed out in his
regimentals, to attend a general court-martial at Saratoga. I had
not then read any history of our Revolution, but had heard its
battles and hardships, told over by my father, which created a deep
interest, and among the events was Burgoyne's surrender. My mind was
filled with the subject as we proceeded on our way, and I expected
to see a field covered with skulls, and guns, and broken swords.
In my fifteenth year I accompanied my father, in his chaise, up the
Valley of the Mohawk to Utica. This gave me some idea of the western
country, and the rapid improvements going on there. I returned with
some more knowledge of the world, and with my mind filled with
enthusiastic notions of new settlements and fortunes made in the
woods. I was highly pleased with the frank and hospitable manners of
the west. The next spring I was sent by a manufacturing company to
Philadelphia, as an agent to procure and select on the banks of the
Delaware, between Bristol and Bordentown, a cargo of crucible clay.
This journey and its incidents opened a new field to me, and greatly
increased my knowledge of the world; of the vastness of commerce;
and of the multifarious occupations of men. I acquitted myself well
of my agency, having made a good selection of my cargo. I was a
judge of the mineralogical properties of the article, but a novice
in almost everything else. I supposed the world honest, and every
man disposed to act properly and to do right. I now first witnessed
a theatre. It was at New York. When the tragedy was over, seeing
many go out, I also took a check and went home, to be laughed at by
the captain of the sloop, with whom I was a passenger. At
Philadelphia I fell into the hands of a professed sharper; He was a
gentleman in dress, manners, and conversation. He showed me the
city, and was very useful in directing my inquiries. But he borrowed
of me thirty dollars one day, to pay an unexpected demand, as he
said, and that was the last I ever saw of my money. The lesson was
not, however, lost upon me. I have never since lent a stranger or
casual acquaintance money.
3d. I was compelled to break off my notes yesterday suddenly.
A storm came on which drove us forward with great swiftness, and put
us in some peril. We made the land about three o'clock, after much
exertion and very considerable wetting. After the storm had passed
over, a calm succeeded, when we again put out, and kept the lake
till eight o'clock. We had a very bad encampment--loose rough stones
to lie on, and scarcely wood enough to make a fire. To finish our
misery, it soon began to rain, but ceased before ten. At four
o'clock this morning we arose, the weather being quite cold. At an
early hour, after getting afloat, we reached and passed a noted
landing for canoes and boats, called Choishwa (Smooth-rock.)
This shelter, is formed by a ledge of rock running into the lake. On
the inner, or perpendicular face, hundreds of names are cut or
scratched upon the rock. This cacoethes scribendi is the pest
of every local curiosity or public watering-place. Even here, in the
wilderness, it is developed.
Wise men
ne'er cut their names on doors or rock-heads,
But leave the
task to scribblers and to blockheads;
Pert,
trifling folks, who, bent on being witty,
Scrawl on
each post some fag-end of a ditty,
Spinning,
with spider's web, their shallow brains,
O'er
wainscots, borrowed books, or window panes.
At one o'clock the wind became decidedly fair, and the men, relieved
from their paddles, are nearly all asleep, in the bottom of the
canoe. While the wind drives us forward beautifully I embrace the
time to resume my narrative of early journeyings, dropt yesterday.
In the year 1808, my father removed from Albany to Oneida County. I
remained at the old homestead in Guilderland, in charge of his
affairs, until the following year, when I also came to the west. The
next spring I was offered handsome inducements to go to the Genesee
country, by a manufacturing company, who contemplated the saving of
a heavy land transportation from Albany on the article of
window-glass, if the rude materials employed in it could be found in
that area of country. I visited it with that view; found its native
resources ample, and was still more delighted with the flourishing
appearance of this part of the Western country than I had been with
Utica and its environs. Auburn, Geneva, Canandaigua, and other
incipient towns, seemed to me the germs of a land "flowing with milk
and honey."
In 1811, I went on a second trip to Philadelphia, and executed the
object of it with a success equal to my initial visit. On this trip
I had letters to some gentlemen at Philadelphia, who received me in
a most clever spirit, and I visited the Academy of Arts, Peale's
Museum, the Water Works, Navy Yard, &c. I here received my first
definite ideas of painting and sculpture. I returned with new stores
of information and new ideas of the world, but I had lost little or
nothing of my primitive simplicity of feeling or rustic notions of
human perfection. And, as I began to see something of the iniquities
of men, I clung more firmly to my native opinions.
My personal knowledge of my native State, and of the States of New
Jersey and Pennsylvania, was now superior to that of most men with
whom I was in the habit of conversing, and I subsequently made
several little journeys and excursions that furthered me in the
knowledge.
As yet, I knew nothing by personal observation of New England. In
the early part of 1813, having completed my nineteenth year, I went
to Middlebury, in Vermont, on the banks of Otter Creek, where, I
understand, my great-grandfather, who was an Englishman, to have
died. Soon after I accompanied Mr. Ep. Jones, a man of decided
enterprise, but some eccentricities of character, on an extensive
tour through the New England States. We set out from Lake Dunmore,
in Salisbury, in a chaise, and proceeding over the Green Mountains
across the State of Vermont, to Bellows' Falls, on the Connecticut
River, there struck the State of New Hampshire, and went across it,
and a part of Massachusetts, to Boston. Thence, after a few days'
stop, we continued our route to Hartford, the seat of government of
Connecticut, and thence south to the valley of the Hudson at
Rhinebeck. Here we crossed the Hudson to Kingston (the Esopus of
Indian days), and proceeded inland, somewhat circuitously, to the
Catskill Mountains; after visiting which, we returned to the river,
came up its valley to Albany, and returned, by way of Salem, to
Salisbury. All this was done with one horse, a compact small-boned
animal, who was a good oats-eater, and of whom we took the very best
care. I made this distich on him:--
Feed me well
with oats and hay,
And I'll
carry you forty miles a-day.
This long and circuitous tour gave me a general idea of this portion
of the Union, and enabled me to institute many comparisons between
the manners and customs and advantages of New York and New England.
I am again compelled to lay my pencil aside by the quantity of water
thrown into the canoe by the paddles of the men, who have been
roused up by the increasing waves.
4th. We went on under a press of sail last evening until
eight o'clock, when we encamped in a wide sandy bay in the Straits
of Michigan, having come a computed distance of 80 miles. On looking
about, we found in the sand the stumps of cedar pickets, forming an
antique enclosure, which, I judged, must have been the first site of
the Mission of St. Ignace, founded by Pierre Marquette, upwards of a
hundred and eighty years ago. Not a lisp of such a ruin had been
heard by me previously. French and Indian tradition says nothing of
it. The inference is, however, inevitable. Point St. Ignace draws
its name from it. It was afterwards removed and fixed at the blunt
peninsula, or headland, which the Indians call Peekwutino,
the old Mackinac of the French.
Leaving this spot at an early hour, we went to Point St. Ignace to
breakfast, and made the traverse to the Island of Michilimackinac by
eleven o'clock. We were greeted by a number of persons on the beach;
among them was Mr. Agnew, of the Sault, who reported friends
all well. This was a great relief to my mind, as I had been for a
number of days under the impression that some one near and dear to
me was ill. It was Sunday morning; many of the inhabitants were at
church, and appearances indicated more respect for the day than I
recollect to have noticed before. The good effect of the mission
established in the island, under the auspices of the Rev. Mr. Ferry,
are clearly visible. Mr. Robert Stuart invited me to take a room at
the company's house, which I declined, but dined and supped there.
This site includes some historical
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Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the
Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers, 1851
Thirty
Years with the Indians
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