Fifty Years In The Northwest
for leaving, I received a letter from Simeon Goodrich, which contained
the unpleasant information that he could not collect the amount due
him and could not go with me. Truly this was a disappointment. I was
obliged to set out alone, no light undertaking at that early day, for
as yet there were no long lines of railroad between Maine and the
Mississippi river. The day at last arrived for me to start. My
companions and acquaintances chaffed me as to the perils of the
journey before me. My mother gave me her parting words, "William,
always respect yourself in order to be respected." These words,
accompanied with her farewell kiss, were long remembered, and, I doubt
not, often kept me from evil associations.
The stage took us directly to the steamboat at Gardiner. The steam was
up and the boat was soon under way. It was the New England, the first
boat of the kind I had ever seen. I felt strangely unfamiliar with the
ways of the traveling world, but observed what others did, and asked
no questions, and so fancied that my ignorance of traveling customs
would not be exposed. It was sunset as we floated out into the wide
expanse of the Atlantic. The western horizon was tinged with fiery
hues, the shores grew fainter and receded from view and the eye could
rest at last only upon the watery expanse. All things seemed new and
strange. Next morning a heavy fog hung over the scene. The vessel was
at anchor in Boston harbor and we were soon on shore and threading the
crooked streets of the capital of Massachusetts. I was not lost in the
wilderness maze of streets, as I had feared I should be, but on
leaving Boston on the evening train I took the wrong car and found
myself uncomfortably situated in a second or third class car, crowded
and reeking with vile odors, from which the conductor rescued me,
taking me to the pleasant and elegant car to which my first class
ticket entitled me. On arriving at Providence I followed the crowd to
the landing and embarked on the steamer President for New York, in
which city we remained a day, stopping at the City Hotel on Broadway.
I was greatly impressed with the beauty of part of the city, and the
desolate appearance of the Burnt District, concerning the burning of
which we had read in our winter camp. I was not a little puzzled with
the arrangement of the hotel tables and the printed bills of fare, but
closely watched the deportment of others and came through without any
serious or mortifying blunder. Next morning I left New York on the
steamer Robert L. Stevens for Albany, and on the evening of the same
day went to Schenectady by railroad. Some of the way cars were hauled
by horses up hills and inclined planes. There were then only three
short lines of railroad in the United States, and I had traveled on
two of them. At Schenectady I took passage on a canal boat to Buffalo.
I had read about "De Witt Clinton's Ditch," and now greatly enjoyed
the slow but safe passage it afforded, and the rich prospect of
cities, villages and cultivated fields through which we passed. At
Buffalo we remained but one day. We there exchanged eastern paper for
western, the former not being current in localities further west. At
Buffalo I caught my first glimpse of Lake Erie. I stood upon a
projecting pier and recalled, in imagination, the brave Commodore
Perry, gallantly defending his country's flag in one of the most
brilliant engagements of the war, the fame whereof had long been
familiar to the whole country and the thrilling incidents of which
were the theme of story and song even in the wilderness camps of
Maine.
The steamer Oliver Newberry bore me from Buffalo to Detroit. From
Detroit to Mt. Clemens, Michigan, I went by stage and stopped at the
last named place until October 14th, when, being satisfied that the
climate was unhealthy, fever and ague being very prevalent, I returned
to Detroit, and on the fifteenth of the same month took passage on the
brig Indiana, as steamers had quit running for the season. The brig
was aground two days and nights on the St. Clair flats. A south wind
gave us a splendid sail up the Detroit river into Lake Huron. We
landed for a short time at Fort Gratiot, at the outlet of the lake,
just as the sun was setting. The fort was built of stone, and
presented an impressive appearance. The gaily uniformed officers, the
blue-coated soldiers, moving with the precision of machines, the whole
scene--the fort, the waving flags, the movement of the troops seen in
the mellow sunset light--was impressive to one who had never looked
upon the like before. A favorable breeze springing up, we sped gaily
out into the blue Lake Huron. At Saginaw bay the pleasant part of the
voyage ended. The weather became rough. A strong gale blew from the
bay outward, and baffled all the captain's skill in making the proper
direction. Profane beyond degree was Capt. McKenzie, but his
free-flowing curses availed him nothing. The brig at one time was so
nearly capsized that her deck load had rolled to one side and held her
in an inclined position. The captain ordered most of the deck load,
which consisted chiefly of Chicago liquors, thrown overboard.
Unfortunately, several barrels were saved, two of which stood on deck,
with open heads. This liquor was free to all. The vessel, lightened of
a great part of her load, no longer careened, but stood steady against
the waves and before the wind. It is a pity that the same could not be
said of captain, crew and passengers, who henceforth did the
careening. They dipped the liquor up in pails and drank it out of
handled dippers. They got ingloriously drunk; they rolled unsteadily
across the deck; they quarreled, they fought, they behaved like
Bedlamites, and how near shipwreck was the goodly brig from that day's
drunken debauch on Chicago free liquor will never be known. The vessel
toiled, the men were incapacitated for work, but notwithstanding the
tempest of profanity and the high winds, the wrangling of crew and
captain, we at last passed Saginaw bay. The winds were more favorable.
Thence to Mackinaw the sky was clear and bright, the air cold. The
night before reaching Mackinaw an unusual disturbance occurred above
resulting from the abundance of free liquor. The cook, being drunk,
had not provided the usual midnight supper for the sailors. The key of
the caboose was lost; the caboose was broken open, and the mate in the
morning was emulating the captain in the use of profane words. The
negro cook answered in the same style, being as drunk as his superior.
This cook was a stout, well built man, with a forbidding countenance
and, at his best, when sober, was a saucy, ill-natured and impertinent
fellow. When threat after threat had been hurled back and forth, the
negro jumped at the mate and knocked him down. The sailors, as by a
common impetus, seized the negro, bound him tightly and lashed him to
a capstan. On searching him they found two loaded pistols. These the
mate placed close to each ear of the bound man, and fired them off.
They next whipped him on the naked back with a rope. His trunk was
then examined and several parcels of poison were found. Another
whipping was administered, and this time the shrieks and groans of the
victim were piteous. Before he had not even winced. The monster had
prepared himself to deal death alike to crew and passengers, and we
all felt a great sense of relief when Capt. McKenzie delivered him to
the authorities at Mackinaw.
Antique Mackinaw was a French and half-breed town. The houses were
built of logs and had steep roofs. Trading posts and whisky shops were
well barred. The government fort, neatly built and trim, towered up
above the lake on a rocky cliff and overlooked the town, the whole
forming a picturesque scene. We remained but a few hours at Mackinaw.
There were ten cabin passengers, and these, with two exceptions, had
imbibed freely of the Chicago free liquor. They were also continually
gambling. Capt. McKenzie had fought a fist fight with a deadhead
passenger, Capt. Fox, bruising him badly. What with his violence and
profanity, the brutality of the mate and the drunken reveling of crew
and passengers, the two sober passengers had but a sorry time, but the
safe old brig, badly officered, badly managed, held steadily on its
course, and October 30th, fifteen days from Detroit, safely landed us
in Chicago.
After being so long on the deck of a tossing vessel, I experienced a
strange sensation when first on shore. I had become accustomed to the
motion of the vessel, and had managed to hold myself steady. On shore
the pitching and tossing movement seemed to continue, only it seemed
transferred to my head, which grew dizzy, and so produced the
illusion that I was still trying to balance myself on the unsteady
deck of the ship.
Chicago, since become a great city, had at that time the appearance of
an active, growing village. Thence I proceeded, November 1st and 2d,
by stage to Milwaukee, which appeared also as a village, but somewhat
overgrown. Idle men were numerous, hundreds not being able to obtain
employment. Here I remained a couple of weeks, stopping at the
Belleview House. After which I chopped wood a few days for Daniel
Wells. Not finding suitable employment, I started west with a Mr.
Rogers, December 2d. There being no other means of conveyance, we
traveled on foot. On the evening of the second we stopped at Prairie
Village, now known as Waukesha. On the evening of the third we stopped
at Meacham's Prairie, and on the fifth reached Rock River, where I
stopped with a Mr. St. John. The evening following we stopped at an
Irish house, where the surroundings did not conduce to comfort or to a
feeling of security. Several drunken men kept up a continuous row. We
hid our money in a haystack, and took our turn sleeping and keeping
watch. We ate an early breakfast, and were glad to get away before the
men who had created such a disturbance during the night were up. We
moved onward on the seventh to Blue Mound, where we found a cheerful
resting place at Brigham's. The eighth brought us to Dodgeville, where
we stopped at Morrison's. On the ninth we reached Mineral Point, the
locality of the lead mines, where I afterward lost much time in
prospecting. Mineral Point was then a rude mining town. The night of
our arrival was one of excitement and hilarity in the place. The first
legislature of the territory of Wisconsin had been in session at
Belmont, near Mineral Point, had organized the new government and
closed its session on that day. To celebrate this event and their
emancipation from the government of Michigan and the location of the
capital at Madison, the people from the Point, and all the region
round about, had met and prepared a banquet for the retiring members
of the legislature. Madison was at that time a paper town, in the
wilderness, but beautifully located on Cat Fish lake, and at the head
of Rock river. The location had been accomplished by legislative tact,
and a compromise between the extremes. In view of the almost certain
division of the Territory, with the Mississippi river as a boundary,
at no very distant day, it was agreed that Madison should be the
permanent capital, while Burlington, now in Iowa, should be used
temporarily. Milwaukee and Green Bay had both aspired to the honor of
being chosen as the seat of government. Mineral Point, with her rich
mines, had also aspirations, as had Cassville, which latter named
village had even built a great hotel for the accommodation of the
members of the assembly. Dubuque put in a claim, but all in vain.
Madison was chosen, and wisely, and she has ever since succeeded in
maintaining the supremacy then thrust upon her.
In my boyhood, at school, I had read of the great Northwest Territory.