Chapter XII: Part 12

We attended a bull baiting, and some other exhibitions for the amusement of the people. Being one evening at the theatre, I had the misfortune to lose my watch from my pocket, without being aware when it was taken. It would have been useless for me to have thought of looking around for it, as I stood in the midst of such a crowd that it was almost an impossibility to move.

The accounts of this city which I had met with in books led me to expect to find it placed in the midst of a lake, or surrounded by a sheet of water. To satisfy myself with regard to the truth of this representation, I mounted a horse, and made the circuit of the city, visiting some villages that lay within a league of it. I found no lake; but the land is low and flat. A canal is cut through it, for the purpose of carrying off the water that descends from the mountains upon the level surface, which has the appearance of having been formerly covered with water. A mountain which is visible from the city, presents a circular summit, one part of which is covered with snow throughout the year: upon the other is the crater of a volcano, which is continually sending up proof of the existence of an unceasing fire within.

Early upon the first day of my arrival in this city, I waited upon Mr. Butler, the American charge d'affairs.[129] After I had made myself known to him he showed me a communication from President Jackson to the President of this country, the purport of which was, to request the latter to set at liberty some Americans, imprisoned upon the coast of California. I then handed him the statement I had made according to the advice {244} of Mr. Jones. He asked me many questions relative to the losses I had sustained, which I answered, and then took my leave.

A number of coaches were to leave the city for Vera Cruz on the 18th of June. My companions and myself took places in one of them. On the 15th I again called upon Mr. Butler to obtain a passport to Vera Cruz, where I intended to embark for America. He took me to the palace of the President, in order that I might get my passport. This circumstance was agreeable to me, as I was desirous to see this person, of whom I had heard so much. Upon arriving at the palace I found it a splendid building, although much shattered by the balls discharged at it by the former President Guerero, who is now flying from one place to another with a few followers, spreading destruction to the extent of his power. A soldier led me into the presence of the President.[130] He was walking to and fro when I entered the room, apparently in deep meditation. Several clerks were present, engaged in writing. He received me politely, bowing as I advanced, and bade me sit down. In answer to his inquiry what I wished of him? I told my errand. He then asked me from what direction I came? I replied, from California. California! said he, repeating the word with an air of interest. I answered again, that I left that part of the country when I began my present journey. You must have been there then, rejoined he, when the late revolution took place, of which I have but a short time since received information. I remarked, that I was upon the spot where it occurred, and that I took my departure from the coast in the same vessel that brought sixteen of the captives taken in the course of its progress, and that I disembarked at St. Blas at the same time that they were taken from the vessel. He resumed the conversation by saying, you were probably one of the Americans who, I am told, assisted in subduing the revolted party. I told him, he was correct in his opinion; and by so doing I had had the good fortune to gain my liberty. His countenance expressed surprise at the conclusion of my remark; and he proceeded {245} to ask me, what meaning I had, in saying that I had thus regained my own liberty? I then related my story; upon which he said he had understood that General Echedio had acted contrary to the laws, in several instances, and that, in consequence, he had ordered him to Mexico to answer for his conduct.[131] I was surprised at the condescension of the President in thus expressing to me any part of his intentions with regard to such a person. I accounted for it by supposing that he wished to have it generally understood, that he did not approve of the unjust and cruel treatment which the Americans had received. The president appeared to me to be a man of plain and gentlemanly manners, possessing great talent. In this I express no more than my individual opinion; to which I must add that I do not consider myself competent to judge of such points, only for myself. He gave me a passport, and I returned to Mr. Butler's office, who informed me that he wished me to take a very fine horse to Vera Cruz, for the American consul at that place. He said that I would find it pleasant to vary my mode of travelling, by occasionally riding the horse. I readily consented to his wish, requesting him to have the horse taken to the place from which the coach would set off, early in the morning, when I would take charge of it. I now took leave of Mr. Butler and proceeded to my lodgings.

I found both my companions busily engaged in packing, and arranging for departure. I immediately entered upon the same employment. I had two trunks; one I filled with such articles as I should require upon my journey; and in another I placed such as I should not be likely to use, and a great many curiosities which I had collected during my long wanderings. The latter trunk I did not calculate to open until I reached my native land.

At 8 o'clock on the morning of the 16th our coach left the city, in company with two others. We were eight in number, including the coachman. Three of the party were ladies. One was a Frenchwoman, a married lady travelling without her husband. Another was a Spanishwoman, who had married {246} a wealthy Irishman, and was accompanied by her husband. The third was the wife of a Mexican officer, also one of the eight. This gentleman was an inveterate enemy of the displaced President General Guerero. We journeyed on very amicably together, without meeting with the slightest disturbance, until the second day, when, about three o'clock in the afternoon, we were met by a company of fifty men, all well mounted and armed. At first sight of them we had supposed them to be a party which had been sent from the city in search of some highwaymen who had committed murder and robbery upon the road on which we were travelling, a few days previous to our departure. A few minutes served to show us our mistake.--They surrounded the coaches, commanding the drivers to halt, and announcing themselves as followers of General Guerero. They demanded money, of which they stated that they were in great need. The tone of this demand was, however, humble, such as beggars would use. While they addressed us in this manner, they contrived to place themselves among and around the persons of our party in such a way as to obtain entire command of us. The instant they had completed this purpose, they presented their spears and muskets, and demanded our arms. We resigned them without offering an objection, as we saw clearly, that opposition would be unavailing. They now proceeded to take from us what they thought proper. I was allowed to retain my trunk of clothing for my journey. The Mexican officer was sitting by his wife in the coach. Some of the soldiers seized him, and dragged him from his almost distracted wife out of the carriage. His fate was summarily decided, and he was hung upon a tree. When this dreadful business was terminated, we were ordered to drive on. We gladly hastened from such a scene of horror. But the agony of the unfortunate wife was an impressive memorial to remind us of the nature of the late occurrence, had we needed any other than our own remembrances. We left this afflicted lady at Xalapa, in the care of her relations. A great quantity of jalap, which is so much used in medicine, is obtained from this place. {247} After leaving Xalapa, we advanced through a beautiful country. We passed many small towns on this part of our route.

Our course had been a continued descent, after crossing the mountain sixteen miles from the city of Mexico. The road is excellent, being paved for the most part. It is cut through points of mountains in several places. This work must have been attended with immense labor and expense.

We reached Vera Cruz on the 24th. On the 27th Captain Hinkley and his mate embarked for New York. I remained with the consul Mr. Stone, until the 18th of July. A vessel being in readiness to sail for New Orleans at this time, I was desirous to avail myself of the opportunity to return to the United States. Mr. Stone and some others presented me money sufficient to pay my passage to the point to which the vessel was bound. It was very painful to me to incur this debt of gratitude, as I could not even venture to hope that it would be in my power to repay it, either in money or benefits of any kind. The prospect, which the future offered me, was dark. It seemed as if misfortune had set her seal upon all that concerned my destiny. I accepted this offering of kindness and benevolence with thanks direct from my heart, and went on board the vessel.

It would be idle for me to attempt to describe the feelings that swelled my heart, as the sails filled to bear me from the shores of a country, where I had seen and suffered so much. My dreams of success in those points considered most important by my fellow men, were vanished forever. After all my endurance of toil, hunger, thirst and imprisonment, after encountering the fiercest wild beasts in their deserts, and fiercer men, after tracing streams before unmeasured and unvisited by any of my own race to their source, over rugged and pathless mountains, subject to every species of danger, want and misery for seven years, it seemed hard to be indebted to charity, however kind and considerate it might be, for the means of returning to my native land.

{248} As we sped on our way, I turned to look at the land I was leaving, and endeavored to withdraw my thoughts from the painful train into which they had fallen. Vera Cruz is the best fortified port I have ever seen. The town is walled in, and well guarded on every side with heavy cannon. The part of the wall extending along the water's edge, is surmounted by guns pointing so as completely to command the shipping in the harbour. A reef of rocks arises at the distance of half a mile from the shore opposite the city, and continues visible for several miles in a south direction, joining the main land seven or eight miles southwest of Vera Cruz. A fort stands upon that part of the reef which fronts the town. Ships in leaving or entering the harbour are obliged to pass between the fort and the town.

We reached New Orleans on the first of August, although the wind had not been entirely favorable. It blew a stiff breeze from a direction which compelled us to run within five points and a half of the wind. As I approached the spot where my foot would again press its native soil, my imagination transported me over the long course of river which yet lay between me, and all I had left in the world to love. I cannot express the delight which thrilled and softened my heart, as I fancied myself entering my home; for it was the home I had known and loved when my mother lived, and we were happy that rose to my view. Fancy could not present another to me. There were my brothers and sisters, as I had been used to see them. The pleasant shade of the trees lay upon the turf before the door of our dwelling. The paths around were the same, over which I had so often bounded with the elastic step of childhood, enjoying a happy existence. Years and change have no place in such meditations. We landed, and I stood upon the shore. I was aroused by the approach of an Englishman, one of my fellow passengers, to a sense of my real position. He asked me if I had taken a passage in a steamboat for Louisville? I immediately answered in the negative. He then said he had bespoken one in the Cora; and as I had {249} not chosen any other, he would be glad if I would go on in the same one with him, and thus continue our companionship as long as possible. So saying he took me by the arm to lead me in the direction of the boat of which he spoke, that we might choose our births. As we advanced together, it occurred to me to ask the price of a passage to Louisville? I was answered, forty dollars. Upon hearing this I stopped, and told my companion I could not take a birth just then, at the same time putting my hand in my pocket to ascertain if the state of my funds would permit me to do so at all. The Englishman seeing my embarrassment, and conjecturing rightly its origin, instantly remarked, that the passage money was not to be paid until the boat arrived at Louisville. I was ashamed to own my poverty, and invented an excuse to hide it, telling him, that I had an engagement at that time, but would walk with him in the evening to see about the passage. He left me in consequence. I then discovered, that so far from being able to take a cabin passage I had not money enough to pay for one on the deck.

I re-entered the vessel in which I had arrived. As I approached the captain I saw him point me out to a person conversing with him, and heard him say, 'there is the young man I have been mentioning to you. He speaks Spanish, and will probably engage with you.' When I was near enough he introduced me to the stranger, whom he called Captain Vion. The latter addressed a few remarks to me, and then requested me to accompany him into his vessel. I consented and followed him on board. He then told me, that he wished to engage a person to accompany him to Vera Cruz, and aid in disposing of his vessel and cargo; and asked if I was inclined to go with him for such a purpose? I said, in reply, that it would depend entirely upon the recompense he offered for the services to be performed. He remarked, that he would give a certain per cent upon the brig and cargo, in case it was sold. I partly agreed to his proposal, but told him that I could not decide finally upon it until I had considered the matter. He then requested {250} me to come to him the next day at 12 o'clock, when I would find him at dinner.

I left him, after promising to do so, and wandered about looking at the city until evening, when I met the Englishman from whom I had parted in the morning. He said he would now accompany me to the steam boat, that we might choose our births according to our engagement. I had no longer any excuse to offer, and was compelled to acknowledge that the contents of my purse were not sufficient to justify me in contracting a debt of forty dollars. I added, that I had an idea of returning to Vera Cruz. He replied, that in regard to the passage money I need have no uneasiness, nor hesitate to go on board, as he would defray my expenses as far as I chose to go. In respect to my plan of returning to Vera Cruz, he said that it would be exceedingly unwise for me to carry it into execution; as the yellow fever would be raging by the time I reached the city, and that it was most likely I should fall a victim to it. I had, however, determined in my own mind that I would run the risk, rather than ask or receive aid from a person to whom I was comparatively unknown, and accordingly I refused his kindly proffered assistance, telling him at the same time, that I felt as grateful to him as though I had accepted his offered kindness, and that I would have availed myself of his benevolent intentions towards me, had he been a resident of my country; but as I knew him to be a traveller in a foreign land, who might need all his funds, he must excuse me. He then asked me if I had no acquaintance in New Orleans, of whom I could obtain the money as a loan? I replied, that I did not know an individual in the city; but if I carried my plan of returning to Vera Cruz into execution, I should probably be enabled to proceed to my friends without depending on any one. Upon this we separated, and each went to his lodging.

At ten the succeeding morning my English friend came to my boarding house, accompanied by Judge Johnston, who accosted me with a manner of paternal kindness, enquiring of me how long I had been absent from my country and relations? {251} I naturally enquired in turn, if he was in any way acquainted with them? He replied, that he was; and advised me to ascend the river, and visit them. I expressed to him how pleasant it would be to me to visit them, but assured him that it was out of my power to enjoy that pleasure at present. He enquired why? I avoided a direct answer, and remarked, that I proposed returning to Vera Cruz. He not only urged strong objections to this, but offered to pay my passage up the river. It may be easily imagined how I felt in view of such an offer from this generous and respectable stranger. I thankfully accepted it, only assuring him that I should repay him as soon as it was in my power. He replied that it was a matter of no consequence. He advised me to go on board the steam boat and choose my birth, alleging, that he had business in the city which would not allow him to accompany me on board.

My English friend seemed highly gratified by this good fortune of mine, and went with me on board the steam boat, where I chose a birth. The name of this gentleman was Perry, and he was one of the two whom I have already mentioned, who had travelled in company with me from the city of Guadalaxara to Mexico. On the fourth, at nine in the morning, the starting bell rung on the steam boat, and Judge Johnston, Mr. Perry and myself went on board. This was the first steam boat on which I had ever been. Scarcely was the interior of the first ship I was ever on board at San Diego, a spectacle of more exciting interest. How much more delighted was I to see her stem the mighty current of the Mississippi.

As I remarked the plantations, bends and forests sinking in the distance behind me, I felt that I was rapidly nearing home; and at every advance my anxiety to see my relations once more, increased. To the many enquiries, made by Judge Johnston, touching the interior of the continent where I had been wandering, I am sure I must have given very unsatisfactory answers, much as I wished to oblige him. My thoughts dwelt with such constant and intense solicitude upon home, that I felt myself unable to frame answers to questions upon any other subjects. {252} Home did I say? I have none. My father and mother sleep--widely separated from each other. They left nine orphans without resources to breast this stormy and mutable world. I, who ought to supply the place of a parent to them, shall carry to them nothing but poverty, and the withering remembrances of an unhappy wanderer, upon whom misfortune seems to have stamped her inexorable seal.

I parted with Judge Johnston at Cincinnati, who gave me a line of introduction to Mr. Flint, for which I felt under renewed obligations to him, hoping it would be of service to me. I left Cincinnati; and on the 30th of August arrived at the end of my journey. I have had too much of real incident and affliction to be a dealer in romance; and yet I should do injustice to my feelings, if I closed this journal without a record of my sensations on reaching home. I have still before me, unchanged by all, that I have seen, and suffered, the picture of the abode of my infant days and juvenile remembrances. But the present reality is all as much changed, as my heart. I meet my neighbors, and school fellows, as I approach the home of my grandfather.--They neither recognize me, nor I them. I look for the deep grove, so faithfully remaining in my memory, and the stream that murmured through it. The woods are levelled by the axe. The stream, no longer protected by the deep shade, has almost run dry. A storm has swept away the noble trees, that had been spared for shade. The fruit trees are decayed.

I was first met by my grandmother. She is tottering under the burden and decline of old age, and the sight of me only recalls the painful remembrance of my father, worn out by the torture of his oppressors, and buried in the distant land of strangers and enemies. I could hardly have remembered my grandfather, the once vigorous and undaunted hunter. With a feeble and tremulous voice, he repeats enquiry upon enquiry, touching the fate of my father? I look round for the dear band of brothers and sisters. But one of the numerous group remains, and he too young to know me; though I see enough to remind me, how much he has stood in need of an efficient protector.--I hastily enquire for the rest. One is here, and another is there, and my head is confused, in listening to the names of the places of their residence. I left one sister, a child. She is married to a person I never knew; one, who, from the laws of our nature, can only regard me with the eye of a stranger. We call each other brother, but the affectionate word will not act as a key, to unlock the fountains of fraternal feeling.

They, however, kindly invite me to their home. I am impelled alike by poverty and affection, to remain with them for a time, till I can forget what has been, and weave a new web of hopes, and form a new series of plans for some pursuit in life. Alas! disappointments, such as I have encountered, are not the motives to impart vigor and firmness for new projects. The freshness, the visions, the hopes of my youthful days are all vanished, and can never return. If any one of my years has felt, that the _fashion of this world passeth away_, and that all below the sun is vanity, it is I. If there is a lesson from my wanderings, it is one, that inculcates upon children, remaining at the paternal home in peace and privacy; one that counsels the young against wandering far away, to see the habitations, and endure the inhospitality of strangers.

END OF THE NARRATIVE

NOTE

The following articles are given, as containing fresh and important information with regard to the countries, through which the Author passed. Dr. Willard's 'Tour' was extensively quoted, by the periodicals of the day, at the time of its publication.[132] Views taken, upon the spot, by an impartial observer, of this comparatively unknown country, so interesting in itself, and from its vicinity to our own country, and the increasing relations, which connect us with it cannot fail to interest the reader. By comparing the statements of individuals differing entirely in training, position, and circumstances, and the purpose for which a country is observed, such statements, in short as are comprised in this volume, the real advantages and disadvantages of a country, its healthfulness, fertility, climate, beauty and the character of its inhabitants, and institutions may be known.

These travellers note down what passed under their eyes, "nothing extenuating, nor setting down aught in malice." It probably did not occur to them, that the imagination might almost work at will, without fear of being caught in the fact, in the desert and unvisited regions of which they speak.

INLAND TRADE WITH NEW MEXICO

Into what nook of our globe can we penetrate, and not find our citizens with their 'trade and traffic?' We not long since read in a paper, that a Yankee captain was running a steam boat in the Yellow sea. In farthest India--in the islands of the gentiles--along the new countries recently discovered in the Antarctic sea, the undisputed throne of winter, and the habitation of sea monsters--wherever winds can waft, human foot-step be imprinted, or the Argus ken of industry and enterprise discover the most distant prospect of a harvest, there we shall find Americans. We delight to consort, as a listener, among the crowds of American tars. Their peculiar dress and step, walking the firm earth as if 'she' reeled; their frank, reckless and manly port; their voice, formed to its tones and expression amidst the roar of the winds and the dash of the waves; their dialect, their outlandish phrase, all furnish food for imagination. We hear them speak of China, of Japan, of Borneo, the Cape of Good Hope, and Cape Horn, as familiarly as the transit from New York to Greenwich. Their language seems to imply that distance and space are ideas unknown to them. Imagination follows them in their long and dangerous course {256} through the trackless brine, and realizes how many storms they have encountered, how many hardships endured, and deaths dared, during these passages; of which they speak as familiarly as of their diurnal visits on shore.

Though the adventures and voyages of the mariner furnish most food for the imagination; though the immense distances and the mysterious depths, that he traverses, and the indifferent hardihood, with which he encounters his perils and toils, naturally inspire an undefined admiration; yet the real exposure, toils and dangers of the interior journeys of our adventurous landsmen are, probably, quite as numerous, though they elicit much less of that feeling of romance and homage to daring, which is so readily called forth in the case of the other. The sailor carries his home with him. The fathomless and swelling cerulean is to him as the scenery of his birth place. No verdure, no enclosures of his paternal home are more pleasant, desired or natural, than good sea room. The winds and waves are chartered alike to convey him from danger, and to furnish him with the spectacles, varieties and pleasures of new ports. Not so with the landsman, far from home in the land of the stranger. Every new object, every variety of soil, climate, vegetation, strange plants and trees, strange men, dresses, religions, modes of building, strange customs, and, more than all, strange speech, awaken every moment those feelings, which made the Romans denominate the strange host by a word, that implies an enemy. At every step nature puts on new forms of hostility, and warns him against uncalled espionage of her privacy, and familiarity with her secrets. His weary steps, his worn down horse or mule, furnish no facilities of escape from those combinations of danger that imagination so readily creates, where they do not really exist. A whole community, with all their innate and national likes and dislikes, are always ready to yield to the natural human repugnance to whatever is a departure from its own ways, and to make a war of extermination upon the defenceless and desolate strangers. The ancient bard admired the temerity of {257} those, who first dared, with only a thin plank to interpose, between them and death, to commit themselves to the winds and waves. If we viewed the daring in all its aspects and bearings it would furnish equal ground for admiration, to contemplate one or a few solitary travellers setting forth on a journey of a thousand leagues, through strange countries, among people at war with each other, and in language, manners and religion furnished with a radical and unchangeable ground of jealousy, dislike and hostility. How happens it, under such circumstances, that men ever break the tender ties, the natural and strong charities of home, and go far away, to enter askance, embarrassed and afraid, the habitation of the stranger, knowing nothing of his language and character, and only knowing that the stranger has a religion and customs, not only different, but hostile? The love of gain, curiosity, the disposition to meet adventures, and the wandering protuberance can only furnish adequate motives.--We believe, that Americans, and particularly the New Englanders have more ample endowments of these combinations, than any other people. If we have ever for a moment given place to the traveller's vanity, in thinking, that in visiting some new and distant region, we had achieved an exploit,--on reaching the desired point, that vanity has been instantly corrected by finding compatriots there before us, who seemed quite at home, and wholly unconscious, that the attainment of their new domicil had given them any claims to celebrity.

We were recently indulged with the reading of a manuscript journal of an overland tour from Jackson, in Tennessee, by way of Memphis, the Arkansas, and one of its long and undescribed branches, over the wide prairies to the mountains that separate between our territory and that of New Mexico; to Santa Fe and the towns in that vicinity; and thence back, over the arid plains between Santa Fe and the Council Bluffs, on the Missouri. The caravan noted in their journal, as a common matter, that their trip had extended between five and six thousand miles. It was not a little amusing, or furnishing moderate excitement of interest and play of the imagination, to become {258} acquainted with the thoughts of these hardy denizens of the forests of Tennessee, as they first emerged from the dark woods upon the ocean prairies of the Arkansas. Their reasonings upon the strange country over which they past, in one place covered with countless buffaloes, in another with moving sands, and still in another offering the temperature of winter in summer, in parallels south of their nativity; upon the different soils, temperatures and configurations of the country, have an intrinsic interest. They are not the reasonings of cosmogonists, or geologists, or chemists, or botanists, or philosophers; but of men, who reason from first impressions,--who make short work of knotty and debateable points, and where they cannot untie the Gordian knot, make no ceremony in cutting it with the hunter's knife. Nothing could be more interesting, than to witness this little caravan surrounded by hordes of the ruthless red Tartars of the desert, brandishing their lances on horseback, and scenting the plunder with panther keenness of instinct. Forewarned by the fate of caravans that had preceded them, how little they had to hope, except from the fears of these Ishmaelites, they poise themselves on their native intrepidity, arrange their little phalanx, and remind the classical reader of the deportment of the ten thousand amidst the strange and innumerable hordes of barbarians, through which, partly by battle, and partly by policy, they made their way. The interest does not diminish, when we see them intermix with the Spanish strangers, equally ignorant and bigoted; the one calling in act cupidity and cunning, to countervail the cupidity and cunning of the other. What a spectacle must be furnished by the encounter of such a band with countless thousands of buffaloes! What scenes are witnessed in their encampments for a month, with no other itinerary, than the windings of an unknown river, the course of the planets, or the distant blue mountains, whose peaks yet want a name! How different their incidents, thoughts, views, food and rest--their nightly encamping and morning departure along the grass plains, that vision cannot measure, from the pursuits and themes of us, who dwell in towns! Yet painful {259} and laborious and hazardous as are these distant excursions, those who engage in them, soon acquire an invincible attachment to them, that renders all other pursuits in comparison stale and tedious!

After wandering six or eight weeks over these prairies, living on buffalo meat without bread or salt, and begrimmed with grease, smoke and the fine dust of the prairies to a brotherly resemblance with the red men, and not at all particular about making their toilet of a dress, which in the first instance smacked nothing of dandyism, nothing can be more amusing, than their ablutions, and beautifyings, and conversations, as, in a mountain-bounded vale, with a rivulet for mirror, they talk of the Spanish beauties, and lustrate and prepare for entering upon the scene of their profits and conquests.

In an article before us, we propose to take a brief survey of the journal of Dr. Willard, an amiable and very correct young man, now residing in our city, and calculating to become a permanent inhabitant, of a journey to the interior of New Mexico, and a residence for some years in the interior, and, more than all, a descent of the Rio del Norte from its head springs to Matamoras, at its mouth,--an immense extent of interesting country, as far as our reading extends, wholly unexplored. Our regret is equal to his own, that while passing down this long, interesting and undescribed river, he had not been more particular in noting the physical aspect of the country, the character of the soil and productions, animal and vegetable, on his route. But, not contemplating any thing beyond refreshing his own recollections, by noting down obvious and diurnal facts and incidents, the journal wants that fulness and variety, which he would probably give to it, were he privileged to travel over the same ground again. How much it is to be desired, that travellers should remember, while traversing new and unexplored regions, that what may seem trivial and common, while under the eye, will assume a different interest and importance, when surveyed anew by memory. No journal of travels in a new country can be uninteresting, so that the traveller is full and faithful in noting {260} down, in the freshness of vision and actual occurrence, what is passing and spread under his eye.

Dr. Willard was a citizen of St. Charles, on the Missouri; and joined a Missouri caravan to New Mexico, as it appears, with mixed inducements. He had something of the common American propensity to seek his fortune; and seems to have been disposed to make his _debut_ and perform his first quarantine among the Spaniards, choosing to make his first experiment in spoiling the tents of the Philistine, rather than the children of his own people.

Dr. Willard left St. Charles, May 6, 1825. The caravan consisted of thirty-three persons. He had not journeyed beyond the settlements of the Missouri until the 16th, when he records in his tablets, that he slept under a tent for the first time in his life. The greater part of the long distance between St. Charles and the mountains at the sources of the Arkansas, is a country of rolling prairies, until we reach the great plains of the Arkansas, generally covered with grass, and of but moderate fertility. A narrow belt of the last portion of the distance is not unlike the deserts of Arabia,--a sterile plain of sand heaps, with but here and there a few of the hardier weeds and plants, which seem to have settled here, as outcasts from more fertile and genial regions. The route, laying across the head sources of the larger rivers of the Missouri and Arkansas, traverses but few rivers or creeks, that are not fordable.[133] Although it has the reputation of being an exceedingly arid region, one of the most frequent occurrences noted in his journal, is being drenched with rains. On the 22d, he remarks, that the earth, over which they travelled, was completely saturated with rain; it having rained every day, save two, since their departure. Another occurrence, which we have noted in all similar journals, and one of the most unpleasant character, is the escape, or what is called the breaking away of the horses. One mode of securing them on these boundless grass plains is technically called 'hoppling'--we imagine a corruption of the word 'hobbling.' The fore and hind legs of the horse are fastened by a kind of fetter, generally {261} of leather. Horses accustomed to this kind of impediment can travel with ease far enough to feed; but with not sufficient facility to evade the owner. But the more general security is the feeling of companionship with each other, and with their owners, which these generous animals soon acquire; and which has so much influence, that affright, or the calls of wild horses, or some extraneous circumstance, is necessary to overcome it. But these circumstances frequently occur; and though the caravans have, or should have a guard of one eighth of the company, of sleepless vigilance, to guard against such disasters, it often happens, that the horses break away; and we can imagine few employments, except dunning and borrowing, more irksome and hopeless, than that of turning out upon the great buffalo pasture a thousand leagues by five hundred in extent, in pursuit of horses, which after all make it a matter of choice, even if discovered, whether they will be taken or not. But it so happens, that these animals, with the municipal habits of settled life, and certain remembrances of country and home, start back on the track of their outward march, and with their heads towards the natal spot; and from this circumstance it seldom happens, that, when overtaken by their owners, they are not persuaded to be retaken.

On the 22d they see droves of elk, antelopes and deer; and of the latter kill two. Here is the view of prairies boundless to vision, of only moderate fertility, but covered with grass, and adorned with a great variety of flowering plants. A number of ravines, filled with water, are crossed with difficulty. It is mentioned as a difficulty of frequent occurrence, that they could not find sufficient wood for cooking. 24th, see two droves of elk--20 in each. Some deer among them; of which one is killed. At night they encamp on the banks of a creek, supposed to be a branch of the Verdigris of the Arkansas. Friday, 27th, depending on their guns, and game having failed, they start without breakfast. Between 10 and 11, a fine buck is killed; and they feast high again. This night encamped on the waters of the main Verdigris.[134] Here they find a skirt {262} of timber. Among the plants are noted wild onion, hog potatoe, wild tansy, prickly pears, and a great variety of flowering plants and shrubs. It is recorded on the 28th, that they went three miles out of their way, to arrive at wood and water. On the 29th they encamped by a little cotton wood tree, the only one in sight on the plain. They cut it down for fuel. Every one knows the difficulty of burning green cottonwood. The rains are still frequent. On the 30th they see the first signs of buffaloes. Delighted with the fragrance of the flowering prairies over which they pass. On the 31st they passed mounds, composed of rocks resembling lumps of iron ore. They encamped on a small creek, skirted with a few lonely trees.

June 1st, they discover buffaloes. He thinks that they could not have been less than 100,000 before noon. Killed eight or ten. Dine upon buffalo soup and steaks; which, although eaten without bread or salt, he considers delicious. Continual exercise on horseback, and associations with the sterility and desolation of the desert, would probably render any food such. This day they passed a very large town, or community of the animals called prairie dogs (_arctomys ludoviciana_.) Dr. Willard describes them, as larger than they have been commonly represented, and of the size of a domestic cat. They considerably resemble a dog in appearance, except about the head, which bears a close analogy to that of the squirrel. Their community contains some hundred burrows; the surface of their town being kept perfectly clean and smooth. On the eminences made by the dirt carried out of their burrows, they sit, and fiercely bark defiance at the approaching traveller. Their form seems rather clumsy; and their hair is short, and of a light red color.

In crossing the creek before them they found two buffaloes mired in the mud. They humanely endeavored to assist one of the unfortunate animals out, and restore him to his free plains; but he was spent; and drowned notwithstanding their efforts to disengage him. On the opposite shore of the creek, the buffaloes covered the plains, as far as their eyes could reach. Wolves and antelopes were bounding among them in all directions. {263} In the distance were red sand hills, which reflected the sun's rays, and seemed like a burning wall, bounding this magnificent park of nature. On the 7th they passed several dog towns; fed upon buffaloe flesh; and found no other material for fuel, but the dried manure of the animal. On the 8th they reached the main Arkansas; which they found nearly half a mile wide, although it must have been, by its meanders, 1,200 miles from its mouth. The velocity of the river at this point was from three to three and a half miles an hour. The western reader will not need to be informed, that this is the full width, and more than the velocity of the river at its mouth. He found the waters potable; which it is well known, they are not in its lower courses.

An unpleasant accident occurred here. In firing upon droves of buffaloes, they turned them out of their direction upon the course of the caravan. Six pack horses broke from their ranks, probably in affright. After pursuing them ten miles, three were recovered. The other three, loaded with goods to the amount of three hundred dollars, and with clothing and provisions, were never recovered. A Mr. Andrews, of their company, who had gone out to hunt, was captured by the Indians; and after being detained unharmed eight days, escaped from them, and overtook his company.

On the 15th they crossed the Arkansas, to hunt, and lay in a stock of provisions, on the opposite shore. On the 18th they left the Arkansas; having thus far accomplished something more than twenty miles a day, on an average. Hence they travelled, part of the way over sand hills, forty-five miles; in which distance they found some water, though it is commonly destitute. This brought them to the small river called the Semirone.[135] The 23d brought them to a fine spring, surrounded with huge rocky knobs, on which were interesting, ancient, Indian fortifications. Small timber, wild plumbs, grapes and currants skirt the borders; affording a charming variety to the eye, after the long and dreary expanse of prairie, which they had traversed. They inhaled the fragrance of various aromatic flowers, and {264} listened to the singing of birds. They here left the small creek, called the Semirone, upon which they had been travelling since they left the Arkansas, and took their direction for the mountains. On the 24th the summits of the Rocky mountains visible in the distance. On the 29th, mountains in view, white with snow, and supposed to be distant 100 miles. Passed a creek, which they judged to be a water of Red river.

The last day of June, they began to ascend the mountains. The latitude of their point of ascent is not laid down. But we should suppose their general course to have been west from the point, whence they started. This was an interesting point of their journey. From a vast expanse of naked plains they now began to ascend high mountains. Alpine scenery surrounds them. They inhale a highly oxygenated atmosphere. The sighing of the wind in mountain pines and evergreens is heard, and they rapidly pass from the dominions of scorching summer to the cool and brisk spring breeze. The atmosphere is that of March, and the strawberries, and vegetation of a similar character, are in blossom.

They here perform a lustration, preparatory to entering into the Spanish settlements. They wash away the dirt and grease coated on them, during their long march over the hot and dusty plains, and put themselves in trim to show themselves in presence of people of a certain degree of civilization. Here they met a party of ten or twelve Spaniards, who had come out from Taos to prevent them from smuggling their goods.

Their reception by the people would not furnish much interest in the description. We presume the chief effort between the parties was, to determine which should be most dextrous in circumventing the other. Dr. Willard boarded with a Spaniard of the name of Pablo Sucero, at twelve dollars a month. The country hilly, mainly destitute of timber, and by no means fertile. The church is a large mud building; and the people do not seem to him to be very attentive to the ceremonial and duties of their religion.

We think, the article would not be destitute of interest, if we {265} were able to enter into ample details of Dr. Willard's residence among this people, where he remained two months, in the practice of physic. On the fourth of July, the American traders in that region, who then made a considerable of a showy concourse, turned out to celebrate the great festival of the natal day of their liberties. Dr. Willard prepared a flag with the American eagle. They went through their evolutions and firings much to the credit of their own patriotism; and no doubt, to the edification and delight of the good people, men, women and children, of Taos. The people received them in the different quarters of the town with shouts of '_Viva la Republica!_' Much of the journal is occupied with accounts of difficulties with the officers of the customs, in relation to the duties demanded by the Spaniards upon their goods.

Dr. Willard manifested a prudent regard to the observances of the Catholic ceremonial; and was soon in full practice of physic among the people. Among some hundreds of cases, which he records, there were all sorts of complaints, that flesh is heir to; and not a few bore evidence, that depravity had found its way, with its attendant penalties, to these remote recesses of the interior mountains, and among this simple and pastoral people, where such results ought not to have been expected. Among other patients, he prescribes for the acknowledged concubine of a priest; and in another case, a reverend personage, sworn of course to celibacy, hesitated not to admit the claims of his offspring. Some of his patients, as would be the case among us, disputed his charges. Others in gratitude repaid him far beyond his claims. He seems to us to have been a very discreet and sober faced young gentleman, prudently disposed to consult _Our Lady of good counsel_; in other words, to keep professional secrets; for the ladies trusted him. The old ladies, in particular, gave him the masonic and confidential grip, advised him to shrive and take a conversion, marry a young lady of the country and become one of them. These amiable _old Christians_ thought, no doubt, that a man can take a conversion when he chooses; and that nothing more is necessary, as many {266} of our enlightened friends here believe, than to feel, that it was a point of interest to become a good Catholic, really to become so. He very frequently attends _fandangoes_, which appear to be of a character similar to our country balls. His practice seems to have been constant and extensive. Among his patients, he numbers priests, the governor, the military; young and old, male and female; and not a few Indians, and among them some chiefs. He notes in his tablets very frequent attendance upon religious festivals; and they seemed to him poor and cheap shows, only capable of furnishing interest and curiosity for a people a little above the Indians in point of refinement. Though decent and respectful in his deportment, while among the people, and in view of the solemnities, he speaks of them with sufficient indifference, when away, and in communion with his own thoughts. He probably was not sufficiently aware of the influence of such a religion of forms and observances, in keeping in order a rude and ignorant people, who were incapable of a more spiritual service. However immoral they may have been with this superstition and these observances, we have no doubt, they would have been still more so without them.

While Dr. Willard shows an evident disposition to think kindly and respectfully of the people, among whom he sojourned, it is obvious from various incidental circumstances, noted in the journal, that the fandangoes and evening amusements were conducted in a style of the coarsest simplicity,--removed, it is true far above the intercourse of their red neighbors, but probably quite as far from that of our people in the same condition. Very few of the ladies were even tolerably pretty; and most of them were coarse, sufficiently forward, and not at all remarkable for attractions either of persons or manners. Some few were delicate, and some even beautiful.

From his recorded intercourse with the priests, it would seem, that he was almost uniformly treated with kindness and liberality. In fact, they evinced, so far as can be inferred from their deportment, a good degree of liberality. There can be little doubt, that the superstition of the people reacts upon them, {267} and compels them to a seeming devotion to the formal and ceremonial part of their worship, from which they would gladly escape. With the progress of free inquiry, we confidently anticipate a consequent gradual triumph over the influence of bigotry.

One trait among them is worthy of all praise--a simple, unostentatious and noble hospitality. It is recorded in Dr. Willard's tablets, that one day he dined with the governor; and on another was invited to spend the evening with some _donna_, or family of respectability; that his patients and friends often called upon him, to invite him to ride with them to this point and to that; and that a horse or carriage was always provided on such occasions. Such hospitalities, it is true, are unexpensive in a country, where farmers have six or eight thousand horses or mules, forty thousand cattle, and twice as many sheep. But churlish and boorish people will always be inhospitable, cost the efforts to be otherwise little or much. This single trait in their character went far with us to conciliate kind feeling and good will towards them.