instead of walking for nearly all the time. Some drifts had to
be walked over, of course ; some snow had to be shovelled
away from before the wheels ; once or twice, we had to take
hold and help propel the wagon through a drift, that need
not have been so deep, so far as any practical utility was re-
garded in its construction ; and twice more our solid friend
was half thrown, half jumped, into the snow-drifts, as the
wagon keeled up on one side, and seemed intent on going
over. The last time, one arm went "through the drift into
about two feet of coolish water, and he, already racked and
sore, was on the point of losing temper. The others were
more nimble, or, rather, more lucky ; generally making a clean
jump, and alighting perpendicularly and right end up. Finally,
at 6 P. M., we drove rapidly into Waterville, ā€” fifty good
miles from Bangor, ā€” and found warm rooms and various
comforts awaiting us. Lecturing that evening was a little



A RIDE ACROSS THE ALLEGHANIES. 557

t

np hill ; but, since the hearers did not audibly complain, I
sha' n't. I thought the village dancing-school at our hotel
ought to have broken up at midnight, considering that
some of us were to be called for the Augusta stage at 5 A. m. ;
but the young folks seemed to enjoy it to a much later hour ;
and, if their parents don't object, I probably should be quiet.
Still, I do say that dancing ā€” which ougjit to be a healthful,
innocent, and approved recreation for all ā€” is made unpopular
with the grave and devout by the outrageously late hours
to which mere infants in years are kept up by it, in hot and
crowded rooms, whence they are suddenly transferred, when
utterly exhausted, to the outdoor cold and their fireless homes.
It was not the creaking of that fiddle, the heavy pounding of
unskilled feet on the ball-room floor, and the annoying rattle
of my door-latch in consequence, till some time this morning,
that put this into my head ; but these served to confirm me
in my earlier conviction.



A RIDE ACROSS THE ALLEaHANIES.

Washington, Monday, December 3, 1851.
It was 10 o'clock on Saturday morning when our steam-
boat reached Wheeling, in two days from Cincinnati. That
was a bad sample of Western steamboat management. I had
promised at home to be here the evening before tlie Session
opened ; and it was essential that I should be punctual. I
ought to have stopped but one day instead of two at Cincin-
nati. I ought to have travelled by land from that city, and
so been at "Wliee'ling six hours sooner. The boat ought to,
and might have been there some hours earlier. But here it
was 10 o'clock, and the stages to connect at Cumberland with
the Baltimore and Ohio train next morning had all been gone
some four hours. No other train would leave Cumberland
till Monday morning, ā€” twenty-four hours later. I jumped
ashore with my baggage, and sped to the stage-office. One



558 MISCELLANIES.

ā€¢

of the Members of Congress, for self and company, got there
at the same moment, and spoke : " Can you send us through
to Cumberland in time for to-morrow's train ? " " No, sir, it
is too late." The Congressman returned to report progress.
Not comprehending the impossibility of driving 193 miles in
22 hours, even over a hilly road, with relays of good horses
every ten or twelve miles, I hung on, and had the resident
proprietor summoned. I put the question to him, varied as
follows : " Will money put us through to ā€¢ Cumljerland in
time for to-morrow's cars ? " " Yes, money will, ā€” money
enough." " How much ? " " If five of you will pay for a full
stage (nine seats) and twenty doUars extra, you shall be
taken through." I hurried down to the boat in search of the
Cono-ressmen, but looked it over without fincUng them. At
last, I discovered one of the Senators : " Mr. E., call your
friends ; we can be taken to Cumberland in season, for about
twenty dollars each."

He would not listen, ā€” said it .could not be done, ā€” he had
tried it once, and failed. (I suspect he did not try the extra
price, " No cure, no pay.") He turned away, and tlie boat
put off I went back to the stage-office alone. " Mr. S., what
is your price for taking me through to Cumberland in sea-
son ? " " Eegular fare to Baltimore, eleven dollars ; forty
dollars extra for gaining time, ā€” in all, $ 51." I put down
the change, and he got up his horses. In ten minutes we
were on the road. The gentleman who drove stands at the
head of his profession. He understood, by experience or in-
stinct, that the perfection of driving is not to seem or need to
drive at all. By a slight and easy motion of his -wrist, he
thridded his way through a drove of cattle, around a carriage,
and among the piles of broken or to be broken stone every-
where encumbering the road, now on one side, then on the
other, and again in the middle or on both. He knew just
when to hold in, and when to let out, but seemed to do more
of the former than of the latter ; hardly using a persuasion
to speed in the course of the ride. He drove at no time over
eleven, nor under ten, miles per hour. The day was bright.



A RIDE ACROSS THE ALLEGHANIES. 550

though cool ; the air crisp and bracing. We had a light car-
riage, with fresh horses every ten to twelve miles. Whatever
craft we espied ahead was sure to be hull down astern in the
course of five minutes. We drove sixty-two miles in a trifle
short of six hours, but lost nearly an hour more in making
changes, as we were not expected at the stations. It was
10.40 (Baltimore time) when we started. At half past 5 we
overhauled the Mail Stages haK-way between Brownsville
and Uniontown, Pa., 62 miles from Wheeling. I threw my
baggage upon one, and followed it ; bidding a hearty farewell
to my driver, who turned back to Brownsville for the night,
on his way to Wheeling. We were in Uniontown to tea
15 minutes past 6 ; left at 7 ; and drove straight ahead over
the Alleghanies, only stopping to change or water, and making
the five changes in less than twenty minutes, all told. The
night was cold, and snow contrived to fall from about mid-
night, though less profusely than on the plains this side. I
think the cold prevented. But each stage was just full of
passengers, and little discomfort was felt from the cold. I
don't consider riding through a cold night without a halt the
summit of human felicity ; but it does very well, if you don't
waste your time and strength in trying to go to sleep. That
is absurd. We drove into Cumberland at 7 A. M. ; had break-
fast, and abundant time for outward renovation, before the
cars started at half past 8. The storm contmued through the
day, changing from snow to sleety hail and almost rain
as we neared the coast. We met with a bad accident at 4 P. M.,
ā€” when 45 miles from Baltimore, our snow-scraper catching
against some part of the track, so that it was broken and
turned under the forward engine, which was thrown off the
track, and the one behind it partly followed the example.
Both were disabled and considerably injured. Happily, we
had still a third engine, pushing behind, which was detached
and run back to Frederick for help to clear away the wreck
and mend the track, which had been torn up by our disaster.
After four hours' delay, we got under headway again, but
came on very slowly, and only made the Kelay House at



560 MISCELLANIES.

11 P. M., ā€” too late for any chance to reach this city till
morning. V>\\i we were in here before 9 A. M., three hours
before Congress convened, and in ample season to look into
whatever was going on. Governor Brown of Mississippi,
whom I left on the boat at Wheeling, incredulous as to the
practicability of getting through to Cumberland in season,
was of course not here to vote for his friend, Howell Cobb,
when even one vote was no slight consideration. I presume
he is in, via Pittsburg, to-night.



A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES.

South Bend, Indiana, October 18, 1853.
I LEFT New York on Monday morning of last week, reached
Lafayette, via Erie Kailroad, Buffalo City, the steamboat
Queen of the West to Cleveland, and the railroad thence by
Gallon, Bellefontaine, and Indianapolis, at noon on Wednes-
day^ Having given the residue of that day and all the next
to the State Agricultural Fair, and fulfilled the engagement
that drew me to Indiana, I returned to Indianapolis on
Friday morning, spoke there in the evening, and started back
via Lafayette, on Saturday morning, to fulfil a promise to
speak on the evening of that day at Laporte, where I should
reach the Northern Indiana and Southern Michigan Eoad,
and set my face homeward. How we were delayed on our
way back to Lafayette, and how, on reaching that smart
young village, I was misled, by the kind guidance of a zealous
friend, into waiting for the Northern cars at a place half a
mile distant from that where they then actually were ; how
I at last broke over all assurances that they always started
from this point, and must come here before leaving, and made
for their out-of-the-way station just in time to be too late, ā€”
it were a fruitless vexation to recall. Suffice it that at noon
I stood on the platform where I might and should have been
twenty minutes before, just in time to see the line of smoke



A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES. 561

hovering over the rapidly receding train, to realize that any-
seasonable fulfilment of my promise to Laporte was now
impossilile, and to learn that the next regular train would
leave on Monday, and take me to Laporte just two days after
I should have been there. I wandered back to the village,
in no enviable mood, to telegraph my mishap to Laporte, and
had the privilege of cooling my heels for an hour and a
quarter on the steps of the office, while the operators were
leisurely discussing and digesting their dinner. They came
at last, just too late to enable me to stop the sending of a
carriage eleven miles from Laporte to meet me at Westville ;
and I retraced my steps to the out-of-town depot, to see what
chance remained or might turn up.

As quite a number had been deceived and left as I was,
owing to the recent change in railroad arrangements, the
agent said he would send out an extra train that afternoon, if
he could procure an engine ; but none came in that could be
spared, and at four o'clock our extra train was adjourned to
next morning at ten ; and I returned to the telegraph office
to apprise Laporte that I would speak there for Temperance
the next (Sunday) evening, and then walked over to the
Bramble House, and laid in a stock of sleep for future con-
tingencies.

I was at the depot in ample season next morning ; but the
train that was to start at ten did not actually leave till noon,
and then with a body entirely disproportioned to its head.
Five cars closely packed with live hogs, five ditto with wheat,
two ditto with lumber, three or four with live stock and
notions returning from the Fair, and two or three cattle-cars
containing passengers, formed entirely too heavy a load for
our asthmatic engine, which had obAdously seen its best days
in the service of other roads, before that from New Albany
to Michigan City was constructed. Still, we went ahead ;
crossed the AVabash ; passed the Tippecanoe Battle-ground ;
ran our engine partly off the track, and got it back again ;
and by three o'clock had reached Brookston, a station four-
teen miles from Lafayette, with a fair prospect of travers-
36



562 MISCELLANIES.

ing oiir whole ninety-odd miles by the dawn of Monday
morning.

But here we came to a long halt. The engine was in
want of both wood and water ; and, though woods and sloughs
were in sight in various directions, neither were accessible.
So our engine was detached, and ran ahead some five miles
for water, and still farther for wood, and a weary two hours
were tediously whiled away before its return.

It came at last, liitched on, and started us ; but, before it
had moved us another liaK-mile, the discharge-cock of the
boiler flew out, letting off all our water and steam, and ren-
dering us hopelessly immovable for hours to come.

"We got out to take an observation. The village of Brook-
ston consists of three houses and no barn, with a well
(almost dry) for the use of the railroad ; but neither of the
houses is a tavern, nor more than one-story high ; and their
agqresate of accommodation fell far short of the needs of the
hungry crowd so unexpectedly thrown upon their hospitality.
Two or three more houses of like or inferior calibre were
gleaming in the rays of the setting sun at various distances
on the prahies ; but these were already surfeited with rail-
road hands as boarders, not to speak of sick women or chil-
dren in nearly every one ; for disease has been very rife this
season on these prairies. Still, a friend found an old ac-
quaintance in one of the nearest residents, whose sick wife
spread a generous table forthwith for as many of us as could
sit around it ; and, having supped, we turned out on the
prairie to make room for a family party, including two wo-
men, one of them quite sick, ā€” as she had been all the way up,
and at Lafayette for some days before. Our conductor had
started a hand-car back to Lafayette in quest of the only
engine there, ā€” a weak, old one, needing some repairs before
it could be used. It was calculated that this engine would
be up about eleven o'clock, and would then drag us back to
Lafayette to spend the remainder of the night, and take a fair
start in the morning. This I, for one, had resolved not to
submit to, though the only ' alternative were a camp-fire on
the prairie.



A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES. 563

But now a bright thought struck the engineer, for which
I think he was indebted to my good angel. He recollected
that a good engine was stationed at a point named Ciilver-
toMTi, forty-three miles ahead ; and he decided to take a
hand-car and make for this, so that our bow should have two
strings to it. The hand-car was di-agged over the rough
prairie around our long train, and launched, ā€” I follow-
ing with my carpet-bags, on the lookout for chances. In a
trice, it was duly manned ; I had coaxed my way to a seat
upon it; and we were off.

The full moon rose bright over the eastern woods as, with
the north star straight ahead, we bade adieu to the embryo
City of Brookston.

We were seven of us on the hand-car ; four propelling by
twos, as if turning a hea^-y, two-handed grindstone ; but we
let off one passenger after traversing a few miles. The engi-
neer and I made up the party ; and the car ā€” about equal in
size to a wheelbarrow and a haK ā€” just managed to hold us
and give the propellers working-room. To economize space,
I sat a good part of the time facing backward, with my feet
hanging over the rear of the car, knocking here and there on
a tie or bridge-timber, and often tickled through my boots by
the coarse, rank weeds growing up at intervals between the
ties, and recently stiffened by the hard October frosts. As a
constant effort to hold on was required, the position was not
favorable to slumber, however it might be to cogitation. Our
Irish steam was evolved from Yankee muscles, and pro"\-ed of
capital quality. We made our first five miles, heavily laden
as we were, in twenty- five minutes ; our first ten miles in an
hour ; but our propellers grew gradually weary ; we stopped
twice or thrice for oil, water, and perhaps one other liquid ;
so that we were five hours in making. the forty-three miles,
or from 7 P. M. till midnight. I only tried my hand at pro-
pelhng for a short mile, and that experience sufficed to con-
\dnce me that, however it may be as a business, this spe-
cies of exercise cannot be conscientiously commended as an
amusement. The night was chilly, though clear ; the dead-



564 MISCELLANIES.

ahead breeze, though light, was keen, and I, by no means
dressed for such an airy ride, felt it most sensibly.

Our course lay across the east end of Grand Prairie, which
stretches westward from the bank of the Wabash across Indi-
ana and Illinois, to the Mississippi, and thence througli Iowa
and Nebraska, perhaps to Council Bluffs and the Eocky
Mountains. The ground we traversed was nearly level, often
marshy, and for the most part clear of wood ; but we fre-
quently crossed belts or spurs, on higher, dryer soil, of the
great forest on our right, with occasional clumps of sturdy
oaks, ā€” islets of timber in the prairie sea, ā€” to which the
belts aforesaid served as promontories. Four prairie-fires, ā€”
two on either hand, ā€” at intervals of miles, burned brightly
but lazily ; for the wind was not strong enough, nor the vege-
tation dry and crisp enough, to unpel a rapid, roaring, sweep-
ing fire.

Now a flock of geese flew by, murmuring subduedly ; then
a great heron rose before us, and flew heavily over the
marshes ; an opossum was frightened by our noisy approach,
and fled eagerly into the prahie, under an evident mistake as
to the nature of our business ; and again an odorous skunk,
keeping his carcass unseen, gave pungent evidence of his
close proximity. Finally, a little after midnight, chilled and
weary, we reached the one-horse village of Culvertown, and
found the engine missing, ā€” nm down to Michigan City for
repairs, ā€” so that my companions had had their rugged ride
for nothing. The landlady of the only house in sight got up
and made a fire ; the engineer decided to await the return
of the fugitive engine ; and I began to drvim up the means of
farther conveyance ; for I was still twenty-odd miles from
any public conveyance that would speed me on my way.
Horses, I learned, were not easily to be had ; and, even if I
had a team, the roads across the great marsh and small river
just north of us were rather shy. But the engineer lent me
the hand-car which had already done such good service, and
I evoked from slumber two Dutchmen, who were persuaded
to act as my crew ; and by 1 A. M. I was again under head-



A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES. 565

way northward ; the air keener, and I more vuhierable to its
assaults in my loneliness, than when six of us were so closely
huddled together. But my Dutchmen propelled with a will,
and my good craft sped briskly onward.

From Culverto^vTi, a prairie-marsh stretches thirteen miles
northward, and I think no building, and hardly a cultivated
acre, were visible through all that distance. The dense fog,
beaten down by the cool air, lay low on this marsh, and was
heavily charged with prairie-smoke for a part of the way.
Three miles from C, we crossed, on a jDokerish bridge of naked
timbers, the slough-like bed wherein the Kankakee oozes and
creeps sluggishly westward to join the Fox and form the
Illinois. They say the Kankakee has a rapid current, and
dry, inviting banks, from the point where it crosses the Illinois
line, which might tempt one to regret that it did not cross
that line forty miles higher up. Happily, the keen air had
done for the mosquitoes, so that we had no more music than
I had fairly bargained for ; but Bunyan might have improved
his description of the Slough of Despond had he been favored
with a vision of the Kankakee marshes. At 4 a.m., my good
craft brought up at Westville, and I was gratified by the sight
of half a dozen houses at once for the first time since leaving
Lafayette, seventy-eight miles below. I doubt that all the
houses visible on that seventy-eight miles would amount to a
hundred ; and I am sure they would be dear at two hundred
dollars each, on the average. Yet there are much fine timber
and excellent land on that route, and he who passes over the
raiboad ten years hence will see a very different state of
things. If efficient plans of drainage can but be devised and
executed, that region will yet be one of the most productive
in the world. Still, the financiering which conjured up the
means of building that New Albany and Michigan City Ka,il-
road is worthy of a brazen monument. At Westville, I was
but eleven miles from Laporte, and four from the crossing of
the great Northern Indiana Road from Chicago : so, having
accomplished sixty-four miles by hand-car since dark, and
arrived within striking distance of a civilized railroad, I went



566 MISCELLANIES.

to bed till breakfast-time ; took passage by wagon at 7 ; was
in Laporte by 9 ; spoke for Temperance at 1 ; took the rail-
road at 3 ; and came here to fulfil my engagement to lecture
last evening ; and thus, having reopened my communications,
I close this hurried account of A Night Kide Across the
Praiiies.



A WINTER FLOOD IN ILLINOIS.

Galesburg, Illinois, February 7, 1857.

I LEFT the train from Chicago on this (the Burlington) Eoad
at 7 A.M. yesterday at " Oquawka Junction," the last station
this side of the Mississippi, and took the stage in due season
for Oquawka (5| miles north), on the bank of the great river,
and the shire town of Henderson County. It had been rain-
ing and thawing for a day or so hereabout ; and, tliough
there was little snow to melt, the hard-frozen earth threw off
the water like a glass roof. The creeks were all over their
banks, wandering at their own sweet will, ā€” " South Hender-
son," " Main Henderson," and " North Henderson " vying
with each other in encroachments on the j^eople's highway,
and all the " sloughs " and depressions transformed into tem-
porary lakes ; but our stage crossed them all safely, ā€” there
being a solid frost bottom to each, ā€” and reached Oquawka
in due season.

But the rain poured harder as the day wore on, and the
evening was as inclement and forbidding as could well be
imagined. I said my say to a rather thin house, ā€” yet a
large gathering for such a night, ā€” and then looked about for
the means of making good my promise to be in Galesburg
(only 33 miles distant, 27 of it railroad) this evening.

The prospect was not cheering. The rain was pouring, the
wind liowling, and the creeks rising. Already, the stage had
been stopped by the creeks on its evening trip to the cars ;
and it was plain that to wait till morning was to prolong my
stay indefinitely. Now, Oquawka is a nice place, as its melli-



A WINTER FLOOD IN ILLINOIS. 567

fluous name would indicate, and has many excellent people
whose acquaintance I should have been glad to improve ;
but the telegraph is not among its advantages, and I could
not let the people of Galesburg, and other towns to which I
was due, know what had become of me, nor why I disap-
pointed them ; so I resolved to dig out, if possible ; and, as
the creeks were still rising rapidly, the only course was to
start at once. A council of wise friends decided that I could
not reach Oquawka Junction, if I were ever so bent upon it,
and should find no train there if I did ; and that the only
hopeful course was to take the highest or eastern road, and
steer for Monmouth (half-way to Galesburg) at once. By
taking this course, I should turn several vicious creeks, leav-
ing only " Main Henderson " really formidable. So a buggy
and capital span were procured from a livery-stable, with
their shrewd and capable owner as pilot, and, at a little past
10 o'clock, we put out into the storm, resolved to see Mon-
mouth (18 miles, by our route) before daylight, if possible.
Though the clouds were thick, the wind blew, and the rain
poured, there was a good moon above all, which, though ob-
scured, gave about all the light that was really necessary.

Though Oquawka is built on the sand, we crossed wide
stretches of water before we had cleared it ; and, of the miles
of hio'h sand-ridge that intervened between it and "Main
Henderson," I judge that fiiQy a fourth lay under water.
Still, hoofs and wheels brought up on frost ; and it was not
till we descended into the bottom of " Main Henderson " that
matters began to wear a serious aspect.

Forty rods west of the ordinary channel of the creek, we
plunged into the water, which grew gradually deeper, until
our boots and baggage had drunk of it to satiety. Just at
this point, the driver's quick and waiy eye caught sight of
some plank or timber which had formed part of a bridge over
one of the ordinary side-cuts of the stream when over its
bank, ā€” said plank or timber-head being even with the sur-
face of the flood, with such an angle of inclination as indi-
cated that the bridge was a wreck, and had probably in good



5G8 MISCELLANIES.

part floated off. He reined up his horses before reaching it,
and turned them face about, and in a minute we were half-
way back, ā€” not to dry, but to unflooded land. Here we took
sweet counsel together, and I offered to return to Oquawka if