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 QTravelcri Imprw^ion 
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 Prepared by the Staff of the 
 
 Public Library of Fort Wayne and Allen County 
 
 1954
 
 One of a ftistorical series, tfii^ pampftlcl is published 
 under ifte direclioit c\\hc gcvenriitg Boards c^ Ike Publie 
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 FOREWORD 
 
 Over a century ago J. Richard Beste, accompanied by 
 his wife and eleven of their twelve children, sailed from 
 England to the United States and traveled in the western coun- 
 try. After returning to England, he wrote an account of his 
 experiences in the backwoods; in 1855 he published THE WA- 
 BASH as a two-volume work in London. Selections describ- 
 ing the author's experiences and impressions of the land, 
 the people, and the climate of Indiana have been excerpted 
 from the book. Several passages by his children describing 
 the Hoosier state have also been excerpted. 
 
 The Boards and the Staff of the Public Library of Fort 
 Wayne and Allen County present this publication in the hope 
 that these impressions of a mid-nineteenth century English- 
 man in Indiana will prove interesting. Grammar, spelling, 
 and punctuation have been changed to conform to current 
 usage.
 
 We enjoyed a pleasant voyage down the Ohio River in a 
 St. Louis steam packet. We passed the pretty scenery on 
 each side at the rate of about fourteen miles an hour. We 
 stopped often for official or commercial purposes and to de- 
 liver letters or to take on goods. No wharves or quays were 
 prepared at the different points of landing; but old, worn-out 
 steamboats, from which the machinery had been removed, 
 were moored to the banks. Rising and falling with the wa- 
 ters, they formed excellent floating piers. 
 
 We passed the village of Vevay in Switzerland County 
 through the center of its pretty vineyards planted on terraces 
 sloping from the summit of the cliffs to the edge of the wa- 
 ter. This place had been settled about forty years before by 
 thirty Swiss families. The United States had sold land to 
 them at a bargain so that they might introduce the cultivation 
 of the vine into the country. They did so and have since been 
 joined by many of their countrymen from Europe. The Ken- 
 tucky River flows into the Ohio River nearly opposite Vevay. 
 It seems to be a beautiful stream, with a very rapid current, 
 flowing between high precipitous banks of rock. It is navi- 
 gable to small boats for about one hundred and fifty miles, 
 and at a place called Frankfort a network of railways to the 
 interior begins. 
 
 We had dined on board our steamer and were now ap- 
 proaching the end of our pleasant voyage. I would gladly 
 have gone down the Ohio River to the Mississippi River and 
 would have ascended the latter stream to St. Louis. How- 
 ever, cholera still prevailed on the shore and in the boats of 
 the Mississippi River, and ship fever, brought up from New 
 Orleans at this time of year, was said to linger about many 
 of them. Therefore, we had resolved to land on the right 
 bank of the river and to find our way as best we might across 
 the states of Indiana and Illinois. About six o'clock in the 
 afternoon, our steamer drew up to the landing at Madison, 
 an important place in Indiana, ninety-two miles from Cincin- 
 nati. We had passed over this distance in seven hours at a 
 cost of $1.50 for each adult. This price included dinner. 
 
 Madison is said to be a very thriving place; it seenned 
 
 1
 
 to be declining or stationary to me. Indeed, referring to the 
 census of the United States, I find that the population of the 
 county is entered in the year of 1840 as having been 9,025, 
 while in 1850 it was only 10, 031. An increase of ten per cent 
 in ten years is tantamount to a decrease in this country. I 
 did not like Madison. I heard that cholera was in the town, 
 and the Madison House was uncomfortable and exorbitant in 
 its charges. We slept here one night. The following morn- 
 ing at seven o'clock we took our seats in the railway cars 
 for Indianapolis. 
 
 After leaving Madison, we soon came to a hill ascend- 
 ing the banks of the Ohio River to the tableland above. It was 
 a very steep inclined plane-- steeper than any I have seen in 
 England or Wales--but a magnificent engine, made in Eng- 
 land, drew us slowly to the top. We then passed through a 
 country that was very pleasing. Forests of oak and beech 
 trees covered the land. Here and there, the trees had been 
 removed for a small clearing, a farmhouse, a village, or a 
 rising town. The cars rattled through many of these towns. 
 In their streets, stumps of the recent forest yet stood two or 
 three feet above the ground and obliged all wayfarers to turn 
 aside. Hence, we have the origin of the American expres- 
 sion "to be stumped. " The busy community had not yet had 
 time to dig them up; this would be done when its citizens 
 were more settled. 
 
 Through the shady woods, beautiful cool ravines opened 
 into the boundless forest. Down them leaped and sparkled 
 bright rivulets that ought to have harbored delicious trout. 
 I was told that they contained no fish, because the waters 
 disappear during the sumnaer months. This scenery was 
 much more pleasing than that through which we had passed 
 heretofore. Beech, oak, and other trees had replaced the 
 monotonous Scotch firs of New York and northern Ohio. When 
 the woods occasionally opened and showed us small prairies 
 and parklike grounds, I fancied how pleasant a backwoods- 
 man's life would be in such a scenery and in such a sunny 
 climate. We were determined to be pleased with Indiana and 
 had already discovered that the manners of the "Hoosiers,"
 
 as its inhabitants are familiarly called, were much more 
 gentle and considerate than those of the go-ahead "Buckeyes" 
 of Ohio. 
 
 At two o'clock we arrived at Indianapolis, the capital 
 of Indiana. We had come a distance of eighty-six miles in 
 seven hours --slow work, but the inclined plane had delayed 
 us. We had paid $2. 50 per adult for our places, which was 
 rather dear. However, the cars were comfortable, the man- 
 agers and passengers had been attentive and obliging, and, 
 in short, we had a pleasant ride. I found my situation at In- 
 dianapolis to be discouraging. I had come by steamboat and 
 railway as far as they reached in this direction. There were 
 no more waterways, and the railways were completed no 
 farther. It was true that several railroads were planned 
 which would go to St. Louis and the Pacific states, but we 
 had no wish to stay in Indianapolis until they might be com- 
 pleted. I had been told that the stagecoach from Cincinnati 
 passed through the town on its way to the Mississippi River 
 over the National Road, and I had trusted to this transporta- 
 tion. 
 
 The stagecoach came rolling up the street. The body 
 of the vehicle held spaces for three with their backs to the 
 horses, spaces for three with their faces to the horses, and 
 a bench across the middle from door to door with spaces for 
 three more. The only support for the shoulders of those who 
 satin the middle seat was a leather strap drawn across from 
 end to end. Even if all nine places could be secured, they 
 would not be sufficient for my party. Moreover, the coach 
 started in the evening, and we should have to travel all that 
 night and the following night. Stagecoach travel would not 
 meet our needs. We asked what could be done. Mr. Turtle, 
 the proprietor of our hotel, said, "Do as we all do. Buy a 
 wagon and a pair of horses and drive across the prairie. " 
 The spirit of adventure was upon us, and the idea was rather 
 fetching. 
 
 The main street of the town of Indianapolis is hand- 
 somely wide. It has broad walks on each side and crosses 
 two or three other streets at right angles. As far as they
 
 went, these streets also gave promise of being handsome. 
 Vacancies soon appeared between the rows of houses, but 
 they will be filled later. This seems to be the method fol- 
 lowed in all these American towns. The plan of the village 
 is first laid out, and the boundaries of the townships are de- 
 fined. Buildings diverge from the core; here and there they 
 dot the line of the future streets until they lose themselves 
 in the forest, the prairie, or the cultivated land. As the va- 
 cancies on each side of a street are filled up, sidewalks are 
 made, trees are planted to overshadow them, the center of 
 the street is paved, and gas and water pipes are laid down. 
 Thus, this city of Indianapolis was as yet one continuous 
 street, with stems of other streets shooting off from it. The 
 plan of the rising town was definitely settled. Although the 
 boundaries of the township enclosed both cultivated ground 
 and wasteland, the scattered buildings already contained a 
 population of ten thousand inhabitants. There were three 
 very good hotels in Indianapolis, and the arrivals of their 
 guests were regularly published in the newspapers! What 
 more could be done in the most fashionable watering place? 
 
 The capitol at Indianapolis is a remarkably handsonne 
 building of surprisingly good classical architecture. It is 
 supposed to be modeled somewhat after the Parthenon at 
 Athens. The pillars and the rest of the building are made of 
 brick but are stuccoed and painted so well that close exam- 
 ination alone can detect the real material. The churches in 
 the town are also large and well built. Domes, spires, and 
 towers that would not discredit any European capital have 
 arisen; they give diversity to the wide plain on which the city 
 stands. In truth, the situation of the town is excellent, not 
 for a commercial center since it has no water transporta- 
 tion, but for a city of residences and the central seat of gov- 
 ernment. It stands on a high tableland of good soil; it is dry 
 and healthful. As they diverge from the center, the streets 
 lead to pleasant paths amid farms and forests. My children 
 admired the scene very much. 
 
 Unless we wished to take up our abode pernrianently at 
 Indianapolis, it was necessary that I procure horses and a
 
 wagon with which to move on. At length, I was told of a job- 
 ber who had a stable full of horses, which he would either 
 sell or rent to convey me to my destination. My wife and I, 
 accompanied by a guide, walked in the direction of the job- 
 ber's premises. We were about to turn into his property, 
 when our guide led us into a temperance hotel barroom where 
 tea and sherbet were sold; he requested that my wife wait 
 there till our return. "Why so?" I asked. "It is not right 
 for a lady to go to a stable-yard- -people would be shocked, " 
 he replied. My wife insisted thai it was more decorous to 
 accompany her husband to a stable than to remain alone in a 
 barroom. 
 
 The owner of the stable seemed to be doing business 
 on alarge scale. He had twenty or thirty horses inhis well- 
 kept sheds. My wife's perverse indelicacy in accompanying 
 me proved to the stablekeeper that we must be quite "Johnny 
 Raws" and newcomers into the civilized world. Therefore, 
 he asked what I knew to be three times the value of his horses. 
 
 We walked away wondering wnat to do next. Suddenly, 
 my guide approached a man driving a cream-colored horse 
 that was drawing a cartload of stones. 
 
 He asked, "Will you sell that horse, Mr. James?" 
 
 The driver replied, "I guess I will, if you make it 
 worth my while. " 
 
 My guide inquired, "Where about is the figure?" 
 
 The owner of the horse answered: "Well now, I don't 
 want to sell himbecause I must have one to do my work, and 
 I shall have to buy another. But there's no denying that this 
 one is a deal too well-bred to haul these stones. I reckon 
 you won't have him under a hundred and fifty dollars. " 
 
 My guide whispered to me that he knew the horse and 
 that the animal was all right. His paces seemed excellent, 
 and he was only five years old. "If he is all right, " I said, 
 "I will give one hundred dollars for him," and I walked away. 
 
 In the course of two hours, I was told that the horse 
 was in the hotel stable and that the gentleman was waiting for 
 the money. In much the sanne manner on the following day, 
 I picked up a dark bay horse with black legs. He was six
 
 years old, about one inch higher than the buff, and had a 
 somewhat larger and shorter body. He was full of fire and 
 speed. For this horse I paid ninety dollars. 
 
 I hadnnuch difficulty in getting a wagon to suitnny taste. 
 I had understood that I was to have a spring wagon, but now 
 I was assured that no springs could stand the roughness of 
 the roads over which I must travel. To prove this, I was 
 taken to see the stagecoaches. It was true that no iron en- 
 tered into their composition, but the body of the carriage 
 swung from side to side on the thickest possible doubled and 
 quadrupled leather thongs. Therefore, we had to resign our- 
 selves to a wagon without springs. 
 
 During my stay here, many tracts of land had been 
 recommended to me for purchase. I will copy some of the 
 descriptions I received. They fanniliarize one with the coun- 
 try and help to bring its ways before the nnind. There were 
 offers such as: 
 
 One hundred eighty acres, of which sixty-five are cleared, 
 
 in Switzerland County, including a good house- -price , seven 
 
 thousand dollars; 
 
 Two hundred forty acres of wooded land in Carroll County-- 
 
 one thousand dollars; 
 
 Five hundred acres of land in Clay and Owen counties, in the 
 
 valley of Eel River, one or two miles from the canal between 
 
 Terre Haute and Evansville. 
 
 Then I had letters fromi Illinois. One included the fol- 
 lowing recommendation: 
 
 A tract of land of thirteen hundred acres with seventy 
 or eighty of them improved; anda commodious dwelling forty- 
 six feet by fifty feet in size, two and one-half stories high, 
 of frame construction with good cellars. The first two sto- 
 ries have four fine rooms each and a hall in each story. The 
 third story has a deck roof and at least a dozen small rooms. 
 There is an orchard adjoining and a tolerable barn. A quar- 
 ter of a mile distant in another part of the farm, there is one 
 of the best barns in this county. The barn is seventy-four 
 feet by fifty-four feet and has a cellar. A comfortable dwell- 
 ing is hard by. This property, I think, can be purchased
 
 ff/^ ^tdde wfiispcrrd to me.
 
 for about four thousand dollars. 
 
 Such letters as the above proved to me that it would be 
 unwise to determine hastily upon any purchase. I had much 
 to see in Illinois, and I determined to make Vandalia nny 
 headquarters for a week or two. 
 
 Some readers may like to know how a newspaper is 
 conducted in the backwoods. For these readers, I will de- 
 scribe a copy of the INDIANA STATE SENTINEL which I 
 brought away with me. It is printed on good paper. Its pub- 
 lisher says that it is published every evening at five dollars 
 per year in advance. The rates of its advertisements are: 
 
 Fifty cents for eight lines or less for one insertion, 
 and twenty-five cents for each additional insertion. An an- 
 nouncennent of candidates for office is one dollar for each 
 line. All advertisements for charitable institutions, fire 
 companies, and ward, township, and other public meetings 
 will be printed at half price. Reports of marriages and 
 deaths will be inserted without charge. Obituary notices and 
 funeral invitations will be printed at half price. 
 
 After a report of the convention of the California Dem- 
 ocratic Party, the first page is filled with advertisements, 
 which are intended to be as attractive as possible. The rail- 
 roads preface their notices by little prints of smoking en- 
 gines, which show the driver standing under a shade to pro- 
 tect him from the sun and the rain. The Odd Fellows and 
 the Freemasons issue their notices amid eyes, hands, hearts, 
 suns, triangles, and compasses- -signs which they alone un- 
 derstand. There are convenient tables which tell the hours 
 at which all mails arrive at and leave Indianapolis; there are 
 statements telling when the different courts will hold their 
 respective sessions; there is a bank report of the current 
 value of notes and moneys; and there is the yearly almanac. 
 My eye is caught by the pretty little prints of gentlemen mak- 
 ing their best bows and little boys walking hand in hand- -all 
 sprucely dressed and calling attention to the many clothing 
 emporiums. I also see prints announcing, "Something new 
 which carmoL oe beat--Jenny Lind's cooking stove," On 
 wheels there is a great boot smoking like the funnel of a 
 
 8
 
 steam engine; this is followed by four shoes of different sizes 
 racing after it on wheels , while "Fairbanks" exclaims , "Clear 
 the track!" and bids you "call and examine for yourself" his 
 supply of boots and shoes. 
 
 However, leaving the pictorial advertisements, I own 
 that I like the matter-of-fact, business style of other adver- 
 tisennents which go straight to the point without circumlocu- 
 tion. What can be more curt and intelligible than the follow- 
 ing: 
 
 Ladies! I have this day received a new assortment of 
 fine ribbons, silks, lawns, bareges , and delaines. Please 
 call and exannine them at the bargain store of H. Parrish. 
 
 Cheese. A good supply constantly on hand at V. Hanna 
 and Connpany's. 
 
 Wanted: 50, 000 pounds of bacon, for which the market 
 price in cash will be paid by Blythe and Holland. 
 
 It is not such a barbarous country, after all! A refer 
 ence to funeral processions reminds me of the style of Amer- 
 ican newspaper obituary notices. Much trouble and inquiry 
 at a time of family distress is avoided by an additional note 
 which tells where and at what hour the funeral will take place 
 and that "the relatives and friends are respectfully invited to 
 attend without further invitation. " Then, if the deceased is 
 connected with any other part of the country, Wisconsin for 
 example, a notice usually follows: "Wisconsin papers please 
 copy. " 
 
 But my INDIANA STATE SENTINEL is not entirely 
 given up to advertisements. There are leading articles and 
 paragraphs on matters of general political interest written 
 in much the same style as we should find in English provincial 
 papers. If any difference is visible in them, it is that they 
 are more courteous to their contemporaries. I read a para- 
 graph in a New York newspaper that announced the publica- 
 tion of an opposition newspaper which would take quite a dif- 
 ferent line in politics from its own. It said that the editor of 
 the new organ was a man of so great ability that the publish- 
 ers of the old established newspaper could not hesitate to 
 wish him success. This is not the greeting which our estab-
 
 lished newspapers give to new adventurers. 
 
 In the INDIANA STATE SENTINEL there is the follow- 
 ing notice, which is characteristic of the country and shows 
 the scarcity of servants: 
 
 Our carrier has been sick for the past few days, and 
 we have been unable to procure a competent one to fill his 
 place. We hope that our subscribers will be patient if any 
 errors are made in delivering the papers. We will rectify 
 any mistake which is reported to the office. Our carrier 
 will probably be able to resume his duties tomorrow. 
 
 Those who study educational statistics may be inter- 
 ested in drawing comparisons with the following statement. 
 According to the report of the visiting committee, the num- 
 ber of children attending the various Sunday schools in Indi- 
 anapolis during the past month was 1,818; the number of chil- 
 dren whose parents promised to send them but did not was 
 seventy; the number of children whose parents refused to 
 send them was thirty-two. The total number of children in 
 the city is 1,920. When shall we see all the children ex- 
 cept 102 attend the Sunday schools attached to the different 
 churches in an English city of about eight thousand inhabit- 
 ants ? 
 
 Thus, although we were in the backwoods, it must not 
 be supposed that we had no evidence of refinement in Indian- 
 apolis. The men, it is true, dressed sensibly in gray hol- 
 land coats and vests- -I myself bought a suit which is still my 
 comfort in hot weather--but the ladies were as refined and 
 elegant as those in New York. The druggists and storekeep- 
 ers had every sort of Parisian perfumery and female luxuries 
 on sale--French gloves, eau de cologne, everything that a 
 European e legante could require. We rejoiced in this evi- 
 dence of prosperity and leisure as we replenished the bottles 
 and drawers of our family medicine chest, little anticipating 
 how soon we should be obliged to have recourse to the drugs. 
 Then, light of heart and full of hope, we clambered up into 
 our new wagon, and on this very day three years ago (I am 
 writing on June 27, 1854) our beautiful horses started forth. 
 They pressed forward with a will on the journey across the 
 
 10
 
 prairies of Illinois to the banks of the mighty Mississippi 
 River. 
 
 I had hired Morrison, the man who had helped me pur- 
 chase my horses and wagon, to convey our luggage with his 
 own two horses and wagon from Indianapolis to Vandalia. It 
 was a heavy load, and as he started with it, I doubted that he 
 would be able to accomplish the undertaking. However, he 
 was going to hire additional horses if necessary. We threw 
 carpetbags and other light articles into the bottom of our own 
 wagon, because we thought that they would make convenient 
 seats for the children. The body of the vehicle was then filled 
 halfway up its sides with hay and straw that they might feel 
 less shaking and jolting. 
 
 Agnes writes: 
 
 We had all looked forward with impatience to the day 
 of starting afresh on our journey and to the pleasures of the 
 wagon. At last, our equipment came to the door; and, with 
 a little squeezing, the whole number found room to sit. Some 
 sat on the hay on the floor, and some sat on carpetbags. In 
 the town our spirits rose even higher, and we enjoyed the 
 jolting on the street. Nevertheless, we found it did not abate, 
 and we soon began to tire of it. Those who for the sake of 
 novelty had wished to sit on hay were glad to change places 
 with those who were on bags. Since not even that position 
 brought the pleasure which had been expected, an unpleasant 
 conviction very soon forced itself into our minds. We be- 
 came convinced that traveling in a wagon on American roads 
 was not so agreeable a way of progressing as we had thought 
 it would be. But to our surprise, a short distance from In- 
 dianapolis, just as we were beginning to resign ourselves to 
 the jolting, we found that it suddenly ceased. In order to 
 discover the cause of this unexpected change, we looked out 
 from under the awning and found that we were traveling on a 
 plank road. To our great joy, this road extended for some 
 miles during which our anticipations of the pleasures of trav- 
 eling in a wagon were partly fulfilled. However, as the heat 
 of the day increased, we could not help wishing that the wag- 
 on had been made a little wider. 
 
 11 
 
 HUMORS Ui«^^
 
 We trotted lightly on this plank road, and a plank road 
 is very pleasant to travel upon. It nnay be slippery in wet 
 weather, but now it saved us from the dust that would have 
 arisen from gravel. Boards or planks about three inches 
 thick were nailed to sleepers at the two sides of the road. 
 They spanned it fronn side to side and rose and sank under 
 us with the elasticity of a ballroom floor. On each side of 
 the plank road, between it and the worm fences that bounded 
 it, there were holes and stumps and ditches and natural wa- 
 tercourses through whichno wheels could venture. The road 
 was constructed in a nearly straight line through a pleasant 
 country, but cultivated spots amid the woods and prairies 
 grew more and more rare. There was a good deal of traffic 
 on the road, quite as much as would be seen on a turnpike 
 road in England, but it was confined entirely to rough-and- 
 ready carriages or agricultural teams. All these vehicles 
 moved rapidly. We also passed several wagons loaded with 
 emigrants; sonne were carrying their bedding andarticles of 
 furniture. 
 
 At about one o'clock, I came to a stop at a little inn in 
 a small village named Springfield. I cautioned my family 
 not to complain of the jolting of the wagon, lest it should ap- 
 pear that they had never ridden in one before, and I warned 
 them to answer the usual string of interrogations as if we 
 were emigrants going from Cincinnati to Illinois. We were 
 soon seated round a dirty tablecloth and swallowing, with 
 such appetite as riding in a wagon gives, a dinner consisting 
 of broiled ham, bread, good honey in the honeycomb, and 
 coffee. The landlady was standing by and fanning us all with 
 a peacock's tail. I heard the following dialogue between her 
 and my wife. 
 
 "I suppose that you come from Cincinnati and are go- 
 ing west ? " 
 
 This was assented to. 
 
 "What's your name?" 
 
 It was told. 
 
 "I don't remember such a nanne. There was a Mrs. 
 West who kept a school at Cincinnati, but she's been dead 
 
 12
 
 three years. " 
 
 "I am not a schoolmistress. " 
 
 "No! Well now, I thought you were. Who are all these 
 young folk?" 
 
 "My children. " 
 
 "Well now, I shouldn't think so if you didn't say so. 
 You don't look old enough to have all these children. You've 
 a good lot of them, to be sure! You've been married sonne 
 time, I s'pose ? " 
 
 This was sufficiently evident, although Dr. Johnson did 
 say that the Americans multiplied with the rapidity of their 
 own rattlesnakes. Her asking such a question proved that our 
 landlady's interrogative powers were well-nigh exhausted. 
 As we had fallen in her estimation since my wife had denied 
 being a schoolnnistress , she soon left us comparatively to 
 ourselves. 
 
 After a rest of three hours, we started again and trav- 
 eled on a country road much like the one which we had fol- 
 lowed during the forenoon. We arrived at a village where I 
 was much pleased to find a large, respectable-looking hotel. 
 Here we planned to spend the night, but with some dismay I 
 discovered that all the blinds and shutters of the house were 
 closed. No one answered my call, but people in the village 
 came to their doors and gazed at us. I went to some of them 
 and learned that the mistress of the house had died of cholera 
 the day before and that her husband had shut up the premises 
 and left. They offered to find the headwaiter, who, perhaps, 
 could let us in and give us rooms for the night. Imagine our 
 feelings when we heard this invitation to enter the house 
 where, I believe, the cholera victim still lay unburied! The 
 stagecoach fronn Indianapolis came into the town and stopped 
 to change horses, and I hastened to take counsel from the 
 driver. He told me that the landlord had deserted the prenn- 
 ises and had traveled by that coach the night before. The 
 driver believed several others besides the mistress had died 
 in the house. Nevertheless, he assured me that I should find 
 very good quarters at a place called Long' s House about three 
 miles farther. 
 
 13
 
 We started again, but we were tired and terrified at 
 what we had heard. The sun was setting, and those three 
 miles seemed interminable. The country became wilder, 
 and the road more broken; yet we toiled onward. Dark fir 
 woods covered the little portion of the country that we could 
 see, and the day was closing as Long's House loomed in 
 sight. After we coaxed her, Mrs. Long permitted us to 
 spend the night crowded into one double-bedded room. 
 
 After leaving in the morning, we found our road changed 
 for the worse. It is marked on all the maps as the National 
 Road extending from east to west in an almost straight line 
 from Pittsburgh to St. Louis. It had been fenced in and laid 
 down as such a road, but Congress, by subsequent decision, 
 declared that the making and maintaining of roads was not a 
 national affair and should be the concern of each state that 
 wanted them. The condition of this road, therefore, depended 
 upon the wants and the traffic of each township through which 
 it passed. The country beyond Long's House was thinly in- 
 habited. The road was little used, and little attention was 
 given to nnaintain it. The water tables on each side were 
 choked or washed away; watercourses ran down the middle 
 of the highway or furrowed it deeply from side to side digging 
 itinto wide pits. Sometimes thesehad to be crossed on step- 
 ping stones. In some places, the rain channels were bridged 
 by planks so short that there was not an inch to spare at the 
 side of each wheel. In other places, where the gravelly top- 
 soil had been worn away and a quicksandy bottom exposed, a 
 track just wide enough for the wheels was made by a cordu- 
 roy road laid across the bog. I have already explained the 
 construction of a plank road; the difference between it and a 
 corduroy road is much the same as that between a log house 
 and a frame house. A corduroy road is made of the unhewn 
 trunks of trees laid side-by-side on the earth. A strip is 
 nailed across each end to keep the logs in their places. The 
 wheels, whether of carriage or wagon, fall from trunk to 
 trunk with the regularity of the thumps and stops with which the 
 cogs in the wheels of a watch fit between and arrest one an- 
 other. Sometimes the ruts between the prostrate trunks of 
 
 14
 
 Oar child rcj7 ^(Acrcd ^aferci^
 
 the trees are partially filled with earth; then, of course, the 
 jolts are less severe. 
 
 We went down to a brook where men were building the 
 foundations of a bridge. We traveled up its pretty, wooded 
 banks on the other side where a nice-looking building, which 
 I think was called the Stage House, hung out its signboard. 
 Soon after this, our road led us into the beautiful parklike 
 grounds of a forest; all traces of the trail suddenly ceased. 
 Not a track was to be seen on the smooth, green turf beneath 
 the tall, shady oak trees. The fresh breezes that came to 
 us from the depths of the woods were delightful. We would 
 willingly have lingered here gypsying, but our journey lay 
 before us. Some citizens driving wagons pointed out the 
 track to me. It led down to the side of a pretty streann that 
 I believe was part of the headwaters of the White River. It 
 was rather deep, but we forded it and clannberedup the other 
 side. At this place, many scores of laborers were at work 
 cutting timber and digging embankments for the railroad 
 from Indianapolis to St. Louis. 
 
 The weather was intolerably hot, and our children and 
 the horses suffered much, in spite of the fine prairie breeze 
 that met us. Indeed, I complained that it chilled me and 
 gave me rheumatism. It blew through the tunnellike awning 
 of our wagon and whistled around my shoulders and loins 
 clad in the new, thin suit of brown hoUand from Indianapolis. 
 I had felt griping pains and uneasiness all morning, which 
 may have been why I was sensitive to the wind. However, 
 to our surprise and delight, about every four miles along 
 this miserable road, we found public wells and punnps. They 
 were supplied with buckets for the use of cattle and horses 
 and tin cups from which to assuage human thirst. Here the 
 civilization and kind feeling of the East was transplanted in- 
 to the almost untrodden wilderness of the Far West! Our 
 children suffered severely from the roughness of the road, 
 as the jolting of the wagon was almost intolerable. We 
 stopped to feed our horses and to dine at a village containing 
 about twoscore houses. We were invited into one of the best 
 by a signboard inscribed "Townsend House. " It was a very 
 
 16
 
 comfortable little farmhouse that was neat and clean and re- 
 cently built of red brick. When we again proceeded, the cool 
 evening air caused our spirits to rise, and the girls began 
 to twine round their bonnets some of the wild flowers and 
 feathers that their brothers had brought them. 
 
 And so we hurried on, and with great delight we found 
 that we were not to fare as we had fared the preceding night. 
 Our present lodging was in a large, clean, comfortable frame 
 house, surrounded by a large garden filled with flowers and 
 fruit trees and two or three beehives. A poor laborer had 
 become ill with cholera just before we arrived and had been 
 carried to a house within sight of our hotel. The state of nay 
 own feelings did not make this comforting information, A 
 dose of medicine was mixed for me out of our family medi- 
 cine chest, and we all retired to bed. After a restless night, 
 during which the whole family was devoured by mosquitoes, 
 we all met for breakfast. The table was neatly spread, and 
 food was plentiful. The poor man who had been ill of cholera 
 was already dead. I paid $4. 50 for our night' s lodging. Then, 
 pleased with our landlord and his family but rather dampened 
 in our spirits, we mounted our wagon and pursued our jour- 
 ney. 
 
 We had passed the night in a small, straggling village. 
 A few log cottages, dirty and blackened by time, stood by 
 the side of the road on the borders of the stunted fir forest. 
 The town was called Van Buren. How little we thought that 
 within three years, the well-informed, gentlemanly, and 
 venerable former President from whom it took its name would 
 be a guest in our drawing rooms at Rome talking with us about 
 these scenes of our adventures! 
 
 The National Road was no longer broken up as it had 
 been. Fortunately, others besides the federal government 
 found it to their advantage to keep the road in order. It ran 
 in a straight line along the tableland; then it turned to the 
 right and descended a rather steep hill into the valley of the 
 Wabash River. I had been told that there were two good ho- 
 tels at Terre Haute, the Prairie House and another. The 
 Prairie House was the first inn we saw on the outskirts of 
 
 17
 
 the town. Surprised to find so large a hotel in such an out- 
 of-the-way part of the world, we decided that it would be un- 
 wise to pass it in search of any other that might possibly be 
 better and would probably be worse. A half hour before mid- 
 day, I drove into the yard of its ample premises. 
 
 It was on Sunday nnorning, the twenty-ninth of June, 
 that we arrived at Terre Haute. We had reluctantly planned 
 to travel forward on the same afternoon, I was convinced 
 that the neighborhood of the Wabash was particularly un- 
 healthful, and I was unwilling to pass a night within its influ- 
 ence. My wife and children had urged that we should remain 
 here for Sunday. However, my impression of the country 
 was highly unfavorable, and I had resolved to leave the shores 
 of the river and to get as far as possible into Illinois before 
 night. After directing that our horses be fed and watered, I 
 went into the hotel and sat down. 
 
 At one o'clock the gong sounded through the Prairie 
 House, and we all went in to dinner. The dining room was of 
 handsome dinnensions and was well lighted by a row of win- 
 dows on each side. The tables were laid out with great neat- 
 ness and propriety, and from fifty to one hundred people were 
 seated at them. The customers were of a class far superior 
 to what I had expected to find here; sonne of them, evidently, 
 were gentry by birth and education. Mr. Bunting, our fat 
 landlord, was dressed in the height of fashion; with carving 
 knife and fork in hand, he guided us politely to our places. 
 He then took his own stand at the side table, which groaned 
 under a profusion of apparently well-cooked joints. One re- 
 spectable-looking Negro waiter was in the roonn. Ten or a 
 dozen boys, whose ages were between twelve and fifteen 
 years, were dressed in white jackets but wore no shoes or 
 stockings. Running about the room and tunnbling over one 
 another in their eagerness, they looked more like schoolboys 
 playing at leapfrog than waiters at dinner tables surrounded 
 by fine people. Immediately, one of the smallest of the boys 
 sprang to me and exclaimed in my ear as fast as he could 
 articulate the words, "What will you take--roast nnutton, 
 boiled beef, roast lamb, veal pie, chicken pie, roast fowls 
 
 18
 
 or pigeons?" I made my selection out of the few words of 
 this gabble that I could understand. However, he fetched nne 
 something as different as possible fronn that which I had re- 
 quested and hastened to run over the catalogue in my neigh- 
 bor's ear. The dinner was excellent but plain. We were 
 liberally supplied with food, and on the whole it was served 
 very well. 
 
 After dinner I did not feel any better; unwillingly we 
 resolved to spend the rest of the day here and to move for- 
 ward on the following morning. Our children started to 
 church for the afternoon service, and we selected our apart- 
 ments in the hotel. We chose these principally from rooms 
 on the ground floor. Our sitting roonn looked out on a space 
 of ground as yet unoccupied by buildings; it was an airy, open, 
 grassy common. 
 
 The eternal electric telegraph wire, which seemed to 
 have accompanied our every step from New York, spanned 
 the open space from side to side. It stretched along on its 
 huge unhewn poles and then lost itself amid the buildings be- 
 yond. It lined one side of the highway on which we had trav- 
 eled, and it swept on past the Prairie House toward St. Louis. 
 On the other side of the road, there were neat garden fences 
 enclosing evergreens and flowering shrubs that overhung a 
 wide footpath. Among the trees on the three sides of the 
 common arose the houses, stores, and buildings of the town. 
 Some were of frame construction, and some were built of 
 brick; between andabove them all peeped the spires and tow- 
 ers of churches. Apparently these houses of worship were 
 vast and various enough to accommodate the faithful of a city 
 four times as populous. 
 
 The hotels of Terre Haute were now unusually full. 
 The railroads and other public works which were being car- 
 ried on in the neighborhood had brought many engineers and 
 their families to them for lodging. These works had also in- 
 duced servants and laborers of all kinds to seek the higher 
 wages they could obtain there, Fannilies that were deserted 
 by their usual attendants had betaken themselves into the ho- 
 tels to board and to lodge. Such are the incidents of house- 
 
 19
 
 keeping in this country. 
 
 I spent a restless night, and on the following morning 
 I felt that I could not continue our journey. I took sonne nned- 
 icine and tossed about in my bed for the rest of the day. 
 Meanwhile, Louie and little Isabel had not been feeling well. 
 We had recourse to the family medicine chest, and a small 
 dose of naedicine was administered to each child. We didnot 
 doubt but that all would be right the next day. However, in 
 the morning it appeared that Isabel's state was far from sat- 
 isfactory, and I immediately summoned a physician. Dr. 
 Read pronounced her to be suffering from bloody dysentery 
 but gave hopes that in a few days she would be well again. 
 Thus, all nny plans for hastening through what I believed to 
 be an unhealthful district were at once defeated. Instead of 
 hurrying on after a stop of two hours, as we had first intended 
 to do, we had already been detained for two days; and now 
 we must remain for an indefinite period. 
 
 The week passed on, and I seemed to grow neither bet- 
 ter nor worse. There was, in fact, no material change. I 
 was stupified by opium, excited by brandy and water, nour- 
 ished by chicken broth, and chilled by lun^ps of ice--such 
 were the results of the strange remedies prescribed for me! 
 I was brought to a state of excessive weakness and nervous 
 irritation. I managed to dress myself with difficulty and to 
 crawl into the sitting room across the passage , where I sat 
 for a few hours each day. Though my child's room was sep- 
 arated from mine by only a thin partition, a tour of two large 
 rooms had to be made to get to hers; and I had no strength 
 to undertake such a journey. Her illness was becoming more 
 serious; through the modified reports that were brought to 
 me, I understood that her life was in danger. 
 
 Terre Haute had become almost "our village. " Let us 
 describe it as we found it. We did not see the social systenn 
 of New York or Baltimore, but we saw the community life 
 which backs up those great cities. It prevails wherever the 
 North Annericanpioneers have pressed their way across their 
 mighty continent. They are carrying it with them to the yet 
 untrodden shore of the far Pacific Ocean where they will 
 
 20
 
 found cities and states as populous and as innportant as those 
 on the shores of our own Atlantic Ocean. Let us first famil- 
 iarize you with the hotel , which occupies so prominent a place 
 in the econonny of an American town. The hotel is prominent 
 in American life not only because many who cannot keep 
 servants at home constantly board there but also because it 
 is the temporary resort of families whose establishments 
 have been broken up by the departure of domestic help. 
 
 While I was confined to my sickroom, our daughters 
 had the run of the house, and their notes will best enable me 
 to record what they saw and did. I myself only know that 
 three times a day a large hand bell was rung in the corridor 
 outside my door to call the lodgers to their meals. It was 
 with the greatest difficulty that my wife could persuade them 
 to discontinue ringing it in our own passage. Every other 
 day, when they took the inventory of the hotel table service, 
 a dirty waiter boy rapped at my door and popped his head in- 
 to my room and exclaimed, "Got any spoons?" If the desired 
 number was not easily found below, he would return again 
 and again with the same demand, insisting that we must have 
 two, or one, or whatever number was missing. Breakfast, 
 dinner, and tea were brought tome at seven o'clock, one 
 o'clock, and seven o'clock by my wife and daughter. Lumps 
 of rough ice, boiled rice, toast, and water were brought at 
 all hours of the day and night by the same loving agency. 
 
 Lucy writes: 
 
 Everyone was awakened in the morning by a boy ring- 
 ing a large hand bell outside all the doors. This was at six 
 o'clock. At half past six, he came again knocking at each 
 door and calling out, "Breakfast ready. " Mr. Bunting served 
 very good breakfasts. Ranged down the table and cut in 
 slices, there were hot and cold breads of different sorts in- 
 cluding corn bread (a little of which was rather nice with 
 plenty of molasses and butter). Little seedcakes, pancakes, 
 fritters, milk, butter buriedin large lumps of ice, molasses, 
 preserves, and blackberry syrup in large tureens were also 
 displayed. Besides these things , hot beefsteaks , roast and 
 boiled chickens, and various sorts of cold meat were placed 
 
 21
 
 on the table. To drink, we had tea and coffee and occasion- 
 ally hot and cold chocolate nnilk sweetened with white or 
 brown sugar. 
 
 At seven o'clock, a great bell rang for the second 
 breakfast, which was frequented by children and theirattend- 
 ants. The landlord, his wife, and those who had been too 
 late for the first breakfast were present at this time. At 
 half past seven, another bell rang announcing breakfast for 
 all the servants in the house. 
 
 At dinner there was always roast beef and generally 
 chicken pie, veal pie, beefsteaks, roast lamb, veal and mut- 
 ton cutlets, boiled ham, pigeons, and roast veal or roast 
 pork. The vegetables were aged peas and beans, hominy (a 
 sort of dry bean resembling the seeds of ripe string beans), 
 and potatoes. Once we had sweet potatoes, which were red 
 and tasted like diseased common potatoes, and another tinne 
 we had a vegetable called squash. Always we had boiled ears 
 of green Indian corn. Several times wehada good soup made 
 of land turtles. Our sweets were custard pie, cherry pie, 
 squash pie, apple pie, and, occasionally, blackberry pie. 
 Sometimes, too, we had stewed pears or roast apples. Then 
 followed cheese and dessert. Nuts and almonds were also 
 on the table. 
 
 On the Fourth of July there were grand doings at Terre 
 Haute, as there were in every town of the United States. A 
 procession of school children passed the Prairie House car- 
 rying flags on which different mottoes were written. Every- 
 one appeared in Sunday clothes. All the shops were closed, 
 and in the evening there were fireworks in the town. Of 
 these, we saw only a stray rocket or two from the window of 
 our sitting room. At dinner, champagne and sherry cobbler 
 were handed around. Several young ladies dined with us. 
 They were dressed in white, had white ribbons in their hair, 
 and came from a large convent school called St. Mary-of- 
 the-Woods, located a few miles from Terre Haute. This 
 was their greatest holiday in the year. Except when they 
 went home, this was the only day on which they were al- 
 lowed to pass beyond the spacious enclosure of their convent 
 
 22
 
 ^'Got anu 5pooi75?"
 
 grounds. On this day, all the pupils and their teachers 
 fornned small parties and visited different places in the neigh- 
 borhood. 
 
 Although neither our girls nor our babies continued 
 well for two consecutive days, the climate agreed perfectly 
 well with our older boys. Kenelm had been smitten for a 
 week with a severe bilious fever which had left him in a state 
 of great weakness, but neither Frank nor Constable had suf- 
 fered an hour's illness since we landed at New York. Frank 
 was delighted with America. The free and irregular life he 
 led during myillness and theabundance and variety of dishes, 
 in which he reveled at will at every meal, seemed to him 
 characteristics of the country. His frank and easy manners 
 were agreeable to the Americans, who said that he was just 
 the lad to go ahead; and they told him that they did not doubt 
 that he would live to be the President of the United States. 
 This is the ambition of every American boy; a poor lad on 
 his deathbed in these backwoods will often say, "I don't care 
 about dying, but I should like to have had a chance to be 
 President. " 
 
 By the blessing of the Almighty, the loving nursing of 
 my wife and children, and the care of my physician, I was 
 now convalescent. Indeed, I had no expectation of recover- 
 ing my health at Terre Haute. All that I hoped was that I 
 might be so far "fixed up" as to bear removal to Europe, for 
 we had now decided to leave this country as soon as possible. 
 I was now about to become personally acquainted with the 
 town of Terre Haute. As yet, I had known it only by the re- 
 ports brought by my children. Agnes describes it as follows: 
 
 It received its name from the French, as it was origi- 
 nally a French settlement. Prairie House was situated at 
 the entrance of the town on one side of the National Road and 
 was separated from the town by a common. It did not stand 
 alone, however, since Dr. Read's house was very near on 
 the opposite side of the road. 
 
 The proximity ot the doctor's residence was a great 
 convenience in all the midnight walks that were taken there 
 by different members of the family. There was a cluster of 
 
 24
 
 other houses in the neighborhood; these belonged to the 
 wealthier inhabitants. From the hotel, the town was reached 
 by a very disagreeable walk in the hot sun, for the path was 
 not bordered by trees. At the end of the path, the main 
 street of the town began; it was lined with stores on each 
 side. There was a square on the left-hand side, where trees 
 shaded the street from the broiling sun above. 
 
 We had resolved to return immediately to Europe, but 
 the problem was how to get there. I was told that I could not 
 bear to be carried by land; and here we were eleven hundred 
 miles from the seaport of New York and fifteen hundred from 
 the seaport of New Orleans. Also, it was considered neces- 
 sary that I should rest a little while in a cooler and more 
 bracing climate before undertaking the journey to New York 
 or the sea voyage beyond. The island of Mackinac, between 
 Lake Huron and Lake Michigan, was highly recommended to 
 me. The climate was said to be cool in the hottest weather; 
 the scenery, beautiful; the accommodations, excellent. We 
 were advised to go by the Wabash and Erie Canal, which 
 would carry us a distance of 320 miles and deliver us at To- 
 ledo on Lake Erie in somewhat less than five days andnights. 
 The prospect of such a journey was not cheering. The Wa- 
 bash River was not remarkably healthful. The Maumee Riv- 
 er, which the Canal followed, was notoriously infested with 
 ague and fever. The little village of Fort Wayne, like many 
 others on that line through which we should have to pass, was 
 known to consume at least four hundred ounces of quinine in 
 every season. However, no other route was available to us, 
 and we resolved to entrust ourselves to the mosquitoes, the 
 fevers, and the agues of the Wabash and Erie Canal. 
 
 Colonel Harrison and his family had pressed us to 
 spend the day with them, and my wife and I had accepted the 
 invitation. I confess that I was very curious to seethe coun- 
 try establishment of a native American gentleman in the 
 backwoods of a free state. The family of our friend had 
 branched off from English stock at about the time of our 
 Charles II and had remained in the colonies ever since. The 
 Colonel's grandfather, William Henry Harrison, had been a 
 
 25
 
 distinguished general and had been President of the United 
 States. The Colonel himself was a very good-looking, gen- 
 tlemanly young man between twenty-five and thirty years 
 old. He had been educated at West Point and had served 
 through the Mexican War. After the proclamation of peace, 
 he had retired from the arnay, had been appointed colonel in 
 the Indiana militia, and had turned lawyer until nnore stir- 
 ring times should reopen a military career for him. I do 
 not know how great his practice in his new profession may 
 have been. He had an office in Terre Haute, but I suspect 
 that he was not often in it. I believe he had a partner, but 
 he still considered himself a military nnan. His health was 
 very delicate. 
 
 About midday, he drove to the door of the hotel, and 
 we took our places in his rough-and-ready carriage behind 
 his spirited little horses. We drove through a partly cleared 
 and cultivated country that gradually rose somewhat higher 
 annid the woods. At length, we entered a lane which looked 
 like an avenue cut through the original forests, and soon we 
 stopped at a gate at the bottom of a little lawn. A respect- 
 able, square, red-brick house stood on an elevation within. 
 The underbrush was cleared away in the forest nearby, so 
 that the woods had sonaething of a parklike appearance. Our 
 host ledus into a couple of well-proportioned andnicely fur- 
 nished sitting rooms, one opening into the other, and here 
 we chatted pleasantly for nearly anhour. Neither Mrs. Har- 
 rison nor her mother made an appearance, nor was any rea- 
 son given for their absence. 
 
 At length, they both came in and greeted us kindly. I 
 observed that the face of our pretty hostess was rather red. 
 They told us that dinner was ready, and we all passed imme- 
 diately into the dining room. Dinner was laid out, and we 
 ate it. We waited upon ourselves, and we were told that the 
 meal had been entirely prepared by our elegant hostesses! 
 After the appointnnent had been made with us, all their 
 "helps" had suddenly left them. Some plans of pleasure, 
 some offense, or some hope of bettering themselves had led 
 the servants to depart without notice, according to the fash- 
 
 26
 
 ion of the country. Days might elapse before the hostesses 
 would be able to find others to take their places; they would 
 not postpone our visit for so usual an occurrence. 
 
 After dinner our host and I left the ladies in their 
 dressing room and retired into another sitting room. My 
 friend lighted his cigar and entertained me with the history 
 of his campaigning in Mexico, while I surprised him with my 
 account of our ways of living in the old country. Colonel 
 Harrison was more than ordinarily interested in the country 
 of his great Cromwellian ancestor and led me to hope that at 
 sometime or another he would pay us a short visit and become 
 acquainted with it. Such is country life in the western states. 
 
 Having resolved to return by way of the Wabash and 
 Erie Canal, I sold my wagon to the great joy of all my chil- 
 dren. It was bought by a man who wished to drive across 
 the prairies to Chicago, and he paid me within two dollars of 
 what it had cost. I tried to sell the horses, but I was unable 
 to do so. Colonel Harrison kindly undertook to dispose of 
 them for me, and I sent them over to run in one of his pad- 
 docks until he should find a purchaser. But we had not yet 
 left Terre Haute. I had heard of frequent breaks in the banks 
 of the Wabash and Erie Canal; on the evening when we were 
 to have embarked, word was brought that two or three breaks 
 had occurred and that all the water had leaked away through 
 them. We had to resign ourselves to another week of waiting 
 while repairs were nnade. 
 
 I paid my bill at the Prairie House. Five dollars a 
 week was charged per adult for board, lodging, and attend- 
 ance. The charge for the servant--! beg pardon, for the 
 "help"--was half that amount. Two and a half dollars was 
 charged for each horse. Mr. Bunting added the moderate 
 charge of four dollars for the extra lights and expenses occa- 
 sioned by illness in my family. Thus, for about five dollars 
 per week, a man may be well lodged and may feed upon the 
 fat of the land in the western states of America. And it 
 should be observed that Indianapolis and Terre Haute are not 
 decaying but are busy, thriving towns. The population of In- 
 dianapolis was 2,692 in 1840; in 1850 it had risen to 8,034. 
 
 27
 
 The population of Terre Haute rose from 2,000 to4,051 dur- 
 ing the same period. 
 
 After remaining another week while we were all in 
 comparatively good health, I had to pay our physician for 
 only six additional visits. Finally, we bade a long adieu to 
 the red-brick walls of the Prairie Hotel. At the canal wharf, 
 we were soon rejoined by Dr. Read, and we took a sad leave 
 of our kind friend. Three horses were harnessed to the boat, 
 and soon we were passing through the water of the Canal at 
 the rate of four or five miles an hour. 
 
 Few adventuresome or novel events occurred while we 
 were on the Wabash and Erie Canal, and no impressions 
 stand out. Yet, the little incidents of each day were charac- 
 teristic of American popular habits and manners, and I must 
 not pass over this very instructive portion of our travels too 
 quickly. On Tuesday, August 12, at five o'clock in the after- 
 noon, we stepped from the little quay at Terre Haute to board 
 the canalboat. About fifty yards ahead of us, three horses 
 were harnessed to a rope and tied to the boat. They started 
 at a moderate trot, and the town where we had tarried so 
 long was soon lost to our sight. No other passengers were 
 onboard, andas we wandered over the vessel we were pleased 
 with thepronnise it gave us of tolerable accommodation. The 
 captain, a very young man, was civil and attentive to our 
 wants. He told us that tea would be served at seven o'clock, 
 and on that day it was the precise hour of sunset. 
 
 The construction of the canalboat was much the same 
 as that of the lake and river steamers. There was no hold 
 or underdeck; the kitchen, the steward's room, and the of- 
 fices were located on the deck at the stern. In the center of 
 the boat was the large saloon- -the sitting room of all by day 
 and the sleeping room of male passengers by night. Adjoin- 
 ing it was the ladies' saloon, and beyond this was a small 
 cabin containing only four berths. This cabin was separated 
 by a doorway and a curtain from the ladies' saloon, and on 
 the other side it opened upon the bow of the vessel. In the 
 cabin was a looking glass, a hand basin, two towels, a comb, 
 and a brush for the use of the ladies. A flat roof spread over 
 
 28
 
 all the saloons. The luggage was piled there, and passen- 
 gers walked back and forth over the roof or sat on it to enjoy 
 the view. As yet the view was nought. The banks were low; 
 and thick woods, in which were only partial clearings, shut 
 us in on both sides. 
 
 Our children wondered where they were to sleep, since 
 there were no visible berths amid the red moreen curtains 
 that hung around the ladies' saloon to give it an air of com- 
 fort in this August weather. They dreaded to have to pass 
 four nights on the floor as they had once done, but they said 
 that they were now more used to hardships than they had 
 been then. 
 
 Agnes describes our first day aboard the canalboat: 
 
 We were summoned to tea; but, after the good living 
 at the Prairie House, all complained bitterly of the bad tea 
 and coffee, of the heavy, hot corn bread, and of the raw 
 beefsteaks. After tea we all began a murderous attack upon 
 the mosquitoes that swarmed on the windows and inside our 
 berths in the expectation of feasting upon us as soon as we 
 should go to bed. But those on whom we made war were 
 soon replaced by others; and the more we killed, the more 
 they seemed to come to be killed. At last we gave up the 
 taskas hopeless and resigned ourselves , as well as we could, 
 to pass a sleepless night. 
 
 What with turning about on account of the heat and with 
 trying to catch the mo-squitoes that bit us dreadfully, we did 
 not get much rest; and we arose the next morning unrefreshed. 
 The monotony of the day was broken only by the many locks 
 through which we had to pass, although it was not agreeable 
 to feel the boat strike suddenly against the wall or the flood- 
 gates with force enough to throw down those who were not on 
 their guard. Then the violent rush of the waters from above 
 while the boat was rising with them made us imagine that we 
 were in Noah's ark. 
 
 Around Covington, a town about fifty miles from Terre 
 Haute, the scenery is remarkably pretty; the Canal passes 
 through what seems to be a healthful sandstone country. 
 However, we were tormented by mosquitoes , by heat, and 
 
 29
 
 by thirst, and our onward course was very wearying. We 
 were well pleased when we arrived in the evening at Lafa- 
 yette, where we were to move into another canalboat. La- 
 fayette is opposite the location of the fannous Battle of Tip- 
 pecanoe, by which General Harrison caused the Indians to 
 sue for peace. Lafayette is said to be a flourishing town of 
 about ten thousand inhabitants. 1 did not see anything to sup- 
 port this reputation during the few minutes that I was able to 
 go on shore. I procured a fresh supply of whisky to mix with 
 our canal water, which we were afraid to drink alone. The 
 bell soon sumnnoned us to the boat which was to take us on- 
 ward. It was so inconveniently drawn up that the women 
 could enter it only by passing through the windows. 
 Lucy records her impressions of the journey: 
 
 The last bell had sounded when we saw a carriage 
 driven very rapidly toward the wharf. A gentleman, a lady, 
 and three children with their black nurse got out of it and 
 came toward the boat. Our departure was delayed while they 
 scrambled on board and while their luggage was transferred 
 from their rough-and-ready carriage. We then started, and 
 for some time all on board occupied themselves with catch- 
 ing the mosquitoes which swarmed in this boat ten times 
 worse than in the other. We got out our needlework and 
 passed the tinr^e in working, in answering or eluding the var- 
 ious questions that were put to us, and in admiring the beau- 
 tiful country through which we were passing. We noticed 
 that nunribers of beautiful flowers, which in England are grown 
 with only the greatest care, grow wild here. Among them 
 were rhododendrons that spread to a great size. We also 
 tooknotice of a great number of tortoises basking in the sun, 
 but they took to the water as we passed. 
 
 Bedtime came and we had to go to bed. The berths 
 were in tiers three rows high; we girls took ours one above 
 the other so that we might not be intermingled with other 
 people. I was put in the top berth, for Catherine was too 
 modest to climb so high, Ellen and Agnes were too short, 
 and Louie still suffered from a pain in her side. I lay awake 
 but still for a long time. At last I heard everyone turning 
 
 30
 
 (Jc aoi ou): our nccdleurork
 
 and sighing with the heat; so I gave way to my own feelings 
 and did so too. But the shelves on which we lay were so 
 short that I found my pillow constantly slipping down fronn 
 under my head. If I put it farther down, nny feet hung out at 
 the other end. Although I was not very tall, I was obliged to 
 curl myself up again and lie quite still while the mosquitoes 
 devoured nne and the heat melted me. At last I went to sleep. 
 I awakened early covered with nnosquito bites, which 
 kept me occupied for some time. Then came the pleasure 
 of dressing before strangers, but Manna soon announced that 
 we might use the little cabin with its basin and two towels. 
 Every third personhad to dip the jug into the Canal for fresh 
 water. Then came the breakfast, where we broke our fast; 
 indeed, we did but little more. The bread was hot and very 
 heavy, and the beefsteaks were dry, small, and much under- 
 done. 
 
 We passed through a great deal of beautiful country. 
 We traveled through many miles of woodland that had never 
 heard the ring of the ax and past thousands of acres where 
 the trees were rotting in the steaming pools collected about 
 them. Sometimes, where the Canal passed along a slope of 
 rising ground, the water wept through the bank on the lower 
 side. Whenever hollows were to be passed over, its channel 
 was not dug out of the earth but was formed by piling dirt on 
 each side to form embankments. These were often broken 
 away violently; and the water, let in through the upper locks, 
 trickled over them and formed a morass on each side. A 
 country that might otherwise have been healthful was changed 
 into a swamp by this Canal. An immense amount of labor 
 would be required to drain the land before it could be ren- 
 dered habitable owing to the floods thus artificially produced. 
 But who thought of inhabiting the region when the Canal was 
 made? The land was then a worthless desert, and the one 
 thing needed was to get through it. 
 
 I never saw more magnificent timber than that which 
 shaded the valleys through which we passed. Great oak trees 
 shot up straight from the bottoms without a Knot or a branch 
 until their heads spread out some scores of feet above. At 
 
 32
 
 times, partial clearings or little prairies opened views into 
 the land beyond, and still the same noble timber arose every- 
 where. On the banks of the Canal, as on mounds of higher 
 earth, the spaces between the trees were filled with wild and 
 untrodden thickets. Shrubs, with large, gorgeous leaves, 
 shot up amid creeping plants of various hues and glistened 
 in the sun. I regretted my scant knowledge of botany, which 
 prevented me from fully appreciating this magnificent vege- 
 tation. 
 
 About Fort Wayne the country is higher, but the soil 
 seems equally rich. Near this town is an old blockhouse, 
 formerly erected as a fortress against the Indians. It is an 
 interesting antiquity in this country, and certainly more an- 
 cient than any other building in the state. At this little town, 
 I went on shore again to replenish my brandy and whisky 
 flasks, for we had used much of the former. This was given 
 to my third boy, who had been ill in the morning; we feared 
 he had caught the ague and fever of the district. Some of the 
 passengers advised me to give him frequent spoonfuls of 
 burnt brandy, and it was interesting to see how speedily and 
 how completely this cut short what threatened to be a serious 
 attack. I was much amused by the lists of spiceries and 
 grocery wares that hung outside the doors of many little 
 shops here and at the several villages we passed. They were 
 all headed "York fixings and Yankee notions. " 
 
 The word Yankee is as much used by Americans as by 
 British; but, with the former, it applies exclusively to the 
 New England states: Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, 
 Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. The people 
 of these states and these only are called Yankees. 
 
 As we proceeded, we took on a great number of pas- 
 sengers. Many used the boat only for short trips from town 
 to town, but many others now sought it as the only convey- 
 ance to the Lakes and the busier districts we were approach- 
 ing. By the fourth day we had passed from the valley of the 
 Wabash River, which ran to the southwest, to that of the 
 Maumee River, which had a northeasterly current. We had 
 now made a little angle to the right and were at the place 
 
 33
 
 where our Wabash and Erie Canal joined the Miami and Erie 
 Canal f ronn the Ohio River and its Cincinnati terminus. Here 
 we were to part with Frank and his next younger brother; I 
 had resolved to leave them awhile in America that they might 
 be the better fitted for the country which I still looked upon 
 as their future honne. The climate had perfectly agreed with 
 these two children. The account that I had heard of the Cath- 
 olic colleges in the United States had given me the greatest 
 confidence in them, and the Archbishop of Cincinnati had 
 written me that he would "receive them with open arnns and 
 with truly paternal affection. " 
 
 At the junction, we found the boat to Cincinnati, and 
 there was an interchange of many passengers as it drew up 
 side by side with our boat in the wide basin of the two canals. 
 I commended my two boys to the care and kindness of the cap- 
 tain of the southbound ve ssel , who seemed to be a civil, good- 
 tennpered man; and we took leave of one another with what 
 spirits we might. The boats separated, and Frank and Con- 
 stable were soon lost to my eyes. The rest of that day, of 
 course, we were all melancholy and out of spirits. 
 
 We were now in Ohio once more, and soon we turned 
 again into the valley of the Maumee River , descending through 
 locks instead of ascending through them as we had done on 
 the previous days and nights. We passed Defiance, where 
 there was an office for the sale of the remaining state lands 
 situated in this unhealthful bottom. Certainly, the appear- 
 ance of the country proved that the settlers had shown judg- 
 ment in what they had left. We passed places called Napo- 
 leon, Damascus, and Providence. I should think the poor 
 imnnigrants tothese wooded marshes must often have invoked 
 the latter. Passengers continually thronged on board as the 
 day went by; they gave us samples of American manners- - 
 popular, vulgar manners if you will, but still the manners 
 of countryfolk and farnners of every class. The men, I ad- 
 mit, invariably behaved with propriety, self-respect, and 
 consideration for one another. 
 
 I never saw people packed so closely as they were that 
 night in the men's saloon. My remaining son and I had our 
 
 34
 
 berths in a corner, and every other bunk in the three tiers 
 around the walls was occupied. Mattresses, on whichpeople 
 lay as close as possible, completely covered the floor; the 
 dinner table was more thickly covered with sleeping humanity 
 thanCaptain Davis ever strewedit with beefsteaks; and those 
 who lay under the table thought themselves favored, inas- 
 much as they could not be trodden upon. 
 
 At ten o'clock that last nnorning, our hateful boat was 
 drawn beside a crowded wharf at Toledo. For the wretched 
 food and accommodation I had paid about forty-five dollars 
 per person, or about double the charge per day at the Prairie 
 House in Terre Haute. We left the boat thankful to the Al- 
 mighty that we had been able to travel three or four hundred 
 miles through an infected district without further illness. 
 
 J. R. D. Beste, THE WABASH: OR, ADVENTURES OF AN 
 ENGLISH GENTLEMAN'S FAMILY IN THE INTERIOR OF 
 AMERICA (London: Hurst and Blackett, 1855), Vols. I-II. 
 
 35
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 917.72B46T C001 
 
 A TRAVELER'S IMPRESSION OF INDIANA IN 18 
 
 3 0112 025336949 
 
 II nil!