Ii2 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER 



OCT. ar, 1841. 



l.KTTKR FROM SOLON ROBINSON, Esq. 

 Xnrth Stonin^lon, Ct., Oct. llth, 1841. 

 To llie Eililnr of ihc Nuw Eiiijlaiiil Farmer : 



Dkab Sik — At my late visit with you, I promi^i- 

 oi! un article for your paper. On a visit to a rela- 

 tive hero, ill looking over a lot of my letters, I 

 found one addressed to a youn^ lady, which al- 

 thoujjh written in that familiar style common be- 

 tiv»en friends, yet I find it contains several tliinjrs 

 as to the mode »nd manner of moving into and sel- 

 llin" a new country, that may he as interesting' as 

 any new thin:; that I could now write. The letter 

 nlinded to i.i dated " I^iiku C. II., la., S"pt. 2bth, 

 1K;}9" — and read.- thus : 



"My Dear Cousin — I had indeed began to think 

 that my former letter w.-is so long that you had 

 concluded to bo satisfied, but I find that ne«s from 

 the far West is still in demand. If I could see 

 yi.u, I would spread out before you a picture of a 

 Western prairie. I will, however, give you a 

 rough sketch. 



In the fall of 18:11, I lived in the town of .Madis- 

 on, in this vState (Indiana,) 7.") miles below Cincin- 

 nati, on the Ohio river, and about 230 miles south- 

 westerly from this place, which is near the head 

 of Lake Michigan, and between 30 and 40 miles 

 from Chicago, a very flouri.-ihing town in Illinois. 



My health was at that time very feeble, to reme- 

 dy which I proposed to my wife to move to the 

 North. In two weeks afterwards, which was about 

 the first of October, we were on the road. We 

 then had two children, which with the driver of 

 our wagon, loaded with light articles, provisions, 

 and a tent, formed our load. 



Each night we sought a good "camp ground," 

 near a spring or stream, and then pitched our tent 

 near a log heap fiie, and after enjoying a hearty 

 supper, spread o';r beds upon some straw or leaves, 

 and enjoyed that sweet and balmy sleep that can 

 only be enjnyed under like circumstances. Thu8 

 we journeyed slowly on during pleasant weatlicr, 

 and at length on the last day of October, amid the 

 golden effulgence of an autumn sun, sinking be- 

 neath the broad expanse of tlie Grand Prairie, we 

 pitched our tent for the last lime upon a beautiful 

 spot of blue grass, where late had stood the humble 

 'wigwam of the original owners of the soil, which 

 we had come to change from savage wilderness to 

 cultivated fields. Here, " I.'j miles from neighbors," 

 wc commenced the winter of 1834-5. Our house 

 was soon formed of round poles and clay, the roof, 

 floors, and doors being made of boards split upon 

 tlie spot out of oak logs, the whole habitation be- 

 ing a very hiiriiblc log cabin, only 18 feet square. 

 On the ca^t lay a beautiful rolling prairie, several 

 miles across to other timber. On the west a grove 

 of oak »nd hickory timber, interspersed around our 

 cabin with plum, crab apple and wild cherry trees. 

 By the side of these groves, which vary in size 

 from a few acres to many thousands, the first ecl- 

 tlers always commence their improvements, ex- 

 tending the farm into the prairie. I presume you 

 have a no/i'oji of the appearance of the prairie, but 

 you cannot have a correct one. You can have no 

 idea of the emotions on first beholding one. Tliey 

 are, and so is all this "great West," what ^ou 

 would call level ; yet it is lar from level. Prairies 

 are as often rolling as woodland — with the same 

 diversity of soil ; with springs, ponds, streams and 

 mill sites, sometimes to be found miles away from 

 timber. Some parts are dry, hilly, sand, gravel or 

 clay soil, free from stones, except n few scattering 

 bouldera of granite ; and others are marshes — 



some but little wet, and others quite a morass. 

 Upon the dry land grows a short harsh grass, about 

 a foot high, with an immense variety of flowers 

 and other courser plants, some of which are medi- 

 cinal. Upon the marshes grows a rank grass, the 

 best of which makes excellent food fur cattle in 

 winter; but by far the greatest quantity makes 

 food for the annual fires that sweep the country. 

 The burning of these marshes when dry, will meet 

 the thousand and one de.scription-' that have been 

 given with more of poetry than truth, of the " awful 

 grandeur of a burning prairie. But grats upon 

 the common dry prairie, makes but a slight blaze, 

 not in the least dangerous to the traveller. 



The groves are generally very open and free 

 from underhush, except near the edges, where ha- 

 zle, crab apple and plum trees often abound. Hut 

 these, particularly the habile, are often destroyed 

 by the annual fires. 



Upon the prairie there is nothing in the way of 

 the plow, any more than in a smooth pasture, ex- 

 cept that the sward is much more tough. The 

 soil is black, deep and rich. The spot where I 

 have settled, is as pretty a one, in a state of na- 

 ture, as can often be found. High rolling land 

 upon the ridge that divides. the waters of the Mis- 

 sissippi from those of the St, Lawrence, while 

 stretching away to the eastward lies the prairie, 

 over which the traveller is seen as he approaches 

 5 or () miles off. To the west lies the " big grove," 

 as a guard against the prevailing winds. In all 

 places good water can he obtained by digging 

 from 10 to (iO feet through the understrata of yel- 

 lowish clay into fine beach sand. Wo have good 

 water and good health, and although we live in a 

 house built of logs piled up one above another, it 

 is warni and comfortably finished, containing some 

 C or 8 rooms, cheap and plainly furnished, yet con- 

 taining all that is really necessary to make life 

 comfortahle. 



But " 15 miles from neighbors," raethinks I hear 

 you say, " how could you live ?" Ah, my dear 

 cousin, never more comfortable, contented or hap- 

 py. I had provided workmen to come with me 

 about 40 miles, when I first came on, ond we soon 

 had up our " first house," which you would have 

 called a /ii(< rather. But this, when stored with 

 ourselves and an ample stock of winter provisions, 

 with a huge pile of hickory wood at the door, with 

 my own health restored, left me nothing to com- 

 plain of 



For three months my wife never saw a white 

 woman, though we had many men to sec us, hunt- 

 ing out locations upon which tosetlle in the spring. 

 Then the nearest postollice was 40 miles off. Now 

 we have a mail in or out every day in the week, 

 and no scarcity of neighbors. In fact we never 

 have had, except during the first winter. For the 

 first opening of spring brought emigrants as sure 

 as it brings the geese and ducks. But although 

 we had no white neighbors, we had no lack of red 

 ones. But these you might not fancy, as their 

 dres.s was not iiuite in ttie fashion. It consisted, 

 both for men and women, of a blanket over the 

 shoulders, a greasy calico shirt, buckskin of cloth 

 leggins, moccasons, and a kind of petticoat, and 

 with faces ornamented with patches of red, black, 

 or white paint. Half a dozen of these, men, ivo- 

 men and children, would often walk in on a friendly 

 visit. At first, the blood sank back to Maria's 

 heart, and the children would creep up to us for 

 protection ; but they soon learned to know their 

 friends — for no class of our acquaintance were ev- 



er more devotedly our friends than were all o 

 these "wild Indians." From the first, I deter i 

 mined that in all my dealings with them I woull 

 deal honestly, and I soon found that they kne' 

 how to appreciate it. 



Never did an Indian go from my cabin hungn 

 Liquor I gave them none ; and they soon learne 

 that drunkenness was offensive to us, and ver 

 considerately avoided troubling our house durin 

 any of their drunken frolics. 



I am eony to lie obliged to say, that as a bodj 

 I found them better men in every sense, than som 

 of the civilized ones who have succeeded them. 



Allow me to relate one little anecdote to illuS' 

 trate their character and the natural kind feeling; 

 of a savage lienrt On the morning of the da- 

 that Charles was born, an fndian and squaiv cami 

 to the house, and as is further illustrative of thei 

 character, saw, without asking, the state of thingi 

 and went away. Early next morning brought a' 

 least a dozen squaws, old and young, from thi 

 grandmother of a hundred years apparently, down 

 ward. Their first inquiry was for " my squaw an* 

 the new pappoosc." And on being assured tha> 

 all wa.s well, they manifested much joy and ai 

 anxiety to see them both. I soon gained the con 

 sent of the mother to receive a visit from such kind 

 hearted friends, who had walked six miles througl 

 the snow to inquire after her welfare. But befolt 

 entering her room, the old squaw bade them al 

 pull olT their wet mocassins, and then tread lightH 

 and speak little. 



After the usual salutations to Maria, just fanci 

 them all seated in a circle flat upon the floor, witS 

 the child passing from the oldest to the youngestl 

 and all caressing it as carefully and fondly 

 though it was their own. 



Such manifestations of kind feeling from " savft* 

 gcs," arc worth more in the store-house of mj 

 memory, than a few paltry dollars would be, tha 

 were obtained by a course of conduct that wouk 

 have produced a very difl'erent feeling. Hut, driv 

 en before the giant strides of civilization, the plac< 

 that once knew them, now knows them no more 

 and the poor creatures are driven fast towards tin 

 last resting place that they are destined to fine 

 upon this continent, far away beyond the " big riv- 

 er." 



No doubt that you fully believe in the judgmeni 

 of heaven sooner or later overtaking nations at 

 well as individuals, for national sins. What a ter- ' 

 riblo day of retribution is then in store for this na- 

 tion, for their sins towards t'e poor Indian. 



Sept. 21U/i. 1 was broken off here last evening 

 to devote a little attention to a party of young la- 

 dies assembled at my liouse. And what a iuhjeot 

 for reflection. Five years ago there was not t 

 while woman in this country : not a road, fence, 

 house or mark of civilization. In coming liere we 

 followed an Indian trail. Even tho Indians had 

 no fixed habitation. Their houses consisted of ■ 

 few poles stuck in the ground in a circle about 13 

 feet across, tho upper ends brought together and 

 tied, and then covered round with a kind of mat 

 made of flags, leaving a hole at the lop for the e«« 

 capo of smoke from a small fire in the centre dl 

 this rude habitation. 



.Around this lire, the whole family of men, wo- 

 men, children, dogs, and all the furniture find room. 



When not engaged in hunting, the men are like 

 the idlers in civilized society, ollen engaged in 

 gambling away their whole stock in trade. 



The squaws not being troubled with many house- 



