A N 1) II O R T I c; U I. T U II A I. K E G I S T E U . 



rUUttSHKO BV JOSia>U BRECK & CO., NO. sa MOUTH MARKET STRIiblT, (Aoiicultuhal Wa««mou»«.)-ALLEN PUTNAM, KDITOH. 



"iSi 



BOSTON, WEDNESDAY EVKNING, DECKMBKR 20, 1841. 



CNO. Ml 



FARMER 



A LETTER FROM THE WEST. 



IHT TRJkVELLINO O.t TnF. PRAIRIF, AND OTHF.R 



MATTERS, 

 the E.<iior of the New Knqlaiul Farmer : 

 Ml woRTiiT Friend — No doubt llie recollection 

 n evening's rid'^ which you •nd I had together, 

 ■inj my Iste visit nt Boston, is yet vived in your 

 ^d. For our visit to tliat delightfully pleasant 

 ting place of tl'e dead, which docs hotior to the 

 ng, as well as to those who liavo Hkcn up their 

 il resting place in the groves of Mount Auburn 

 and the pleasant hour that we spent amid the 

 endor of the artificial paridisc which has been 

 ated by Mr CtsiiiKG — together with the hearty 

 1 enthusiastic welcome which we received from 

 t nobleman by nature, Mr Phinivky, have lefl 

 arcssions upon onr minds that a long series of 

 4r9 cannot efTace. ■ It was altogether one of 

 se delightful days that seem as though created 

 purpose to efface the recollection of many other 

 /s of misery from our minds. 

 You re iiemb>r that we were " thrown nff the 

 ck," by which wo were necessitated to take an 

 ning ride over ten miles of strange road during 

 lark evening. But how different night travelling 

 apon stich a road, from what it is upon a broad, 

 ;\jllivated prairie, I will endeavor to illustrate by 

 description of an evening ride upon the night 

 t I reached my own humble, but happy home, 

 the 13th of November. 



After a boister'Hi-s passage around the Northern 

 kes, during stinr.s of wind, snow and rain, and 

 oUL'h d.-iys anil nijihts of fog that prevented the ! 

 joymenl that the picturesque scenery of these j 

 ■jions alwiiys affurd during a summ'er passage, I t 

 ived at tlio nt;/ of Chicago on the I2th of No- ! 

 Tiber, and hirdly waiting lor the boat to touch ! 

 harf, I boiiiiiled upon the shore with all the 

 itticily that the prospect of reaching home by an • 

 tension of only 40 miles of my journey, and a ■ 

 utiful sunny da;' — the first in two weeks — was 

 Iculated to inspire me with. 

 As there wa» no public conveyance to my place, 

 first effort was to seek a private one, which I 

 jnd a matter of some difficulty, as the late rains 

 d so affected the roads, or rather the soft prairie ' 

 il which Fiirrour;ds this city, where roads will ' 

 me day be constructed, that the usual abundance 

 farmers' wagons were not among the things seen. ' 

 After an hour's tramp through the unpaved, but 

 •I unmuddy streets, I 8uc>:eeded in getting the 

 ges of pigs aed poultry, plows, forks, fruits and 

 robbery that had nccimulaied upon my hands by i 

 e liberality of nr.y agricultural friends, upon the , 

 : WTigon of one of my niighbors, and succeeded j 

 bearing of another with a horse ti'am, who had , 

 me ten miles nut that evening. But that difficul- 1 

 was soon oliviatod by the kind offer of the very i 

 jntlemanly editor nf the Chicago "Union Agri- 

 illurist," who sent hii) team to the hotel, witli di- 

 ctions to his man to take me out that evening ; 

 Qtil I overtook m^ friend's wagoo. I 



Myself and a companion, with a heavy lot o' 

 ; '•"ofl*"''' *'"' heavy roads, gave ine a much more 

 unpleasant ride than the ono which we had togrlhcr. 

 But a warm supper and warm welcome, ami a 

 sweet night's sleep, during which I dreamed of the 

 bright spots in niy late delightful tour, restored iiiu 

 to myself again, and with the sun, 1 set my face to- 

 ward that place, of all others in this world the most 

 enticing, to the fond husband and father. 



My friend being persuaded that the drive could 

 be easily accomplished during the day, made some 

 delay, proving in the end that " delays are dange- 

 rous," for just before dark wc entered upon a prai- 

 rie that is about five uiiles across, without liabita. 

 tion, fence, or what you would cali a road. .As all 

 the " improvement" ever Uiade upon it was to 

 stick a row of stakes to guide the first wagons un- 

 til a track was made that could be followed after- 

 wards. But in this as in many of the paths tlirousli 

 life, the want of union, the want of thought or care 

 for those that come after us, or the disposition of 

 every one lo seek out a new and better route for 

 himself, had loft "the road" but a sorry blind man's 

 path. To add to the difficulty, the prairie had just 

 been burnt over, thereby destroying all contrast 

 between the white grass and black track which 

 travel makes upon our very black soil. 



Hut, like the thoughtlessness of youth, or the 

 heedlessness of many of more adult age, who travel 

 the dark paths of life, we pressed forward while 

 there was yet ligh', without a thought of how soon 

 we should need more than a mortal eye^ to guide 

 us along our dark and gloomy path. 



The stranger in this region, who upon his own 

 native mountains has often enjoyed the beauty of 

 the long lingering twilight of an autumn evening, 

 has often been surprised at the sudden transition 

 upon the prairie, from clear light to the darkness of 

 midnight. iSuch is the fact, and it came upon us on 

 this evening so suddenly, that we did not perceive 

 that the horses had left the track, until I observed 

 to the driver that either Iiim orlhowind had chang- 

 ed its course. For, guided by former well bought 

 experience, I had almost instinctively observed up- 

 on entering on the prairie, that the wind was di- 

 rectly in our faces, in order that we might, in the 

 absence of all other guides, steer our course by the 

 wind, for that is not mure changeable than many 

 of the guides through life that we are worit to steer 

 by. 



The sharp ring of the midnight bell, strikes less 

 alarm to the ear of the denizen of some busy city, 

 when il announces that the devouring clement is 

 unchained, than did my words to the ears of my 

 companions. 



" We 're hjst," is not the most pleasant sound to 

 men in our situation. And then too, just as I was I 

 anticipating that in a few minutes more I should 

 come in sight of the lights in my own house and 

 neighborhood, to be left in utter and impenetrable 

 oarkiicEs, was gloomy Indeed. 



I caution those who would despair with such a 

 chilling prospect before them, not to emigrate to 

 the West ; at least, not until we, better pioneers 



than they, have marked out better paths for thom 

 to follow. 



When we found wc were where we know not 

 where, a council of — not war, but peace, was held 

 to contrive " ways and means" by which means we 

 could follow our ways in peace, — the only valuable 

 result of which was, a detcriiiinali.m lo go ahead 

 somewhere, which you will allow was o much wi. 

 ser conclusion than to go nowhere. The old man 

 who had been driving, also concluded to yield the 

 rcin.9 lo my govcirnment, while he footed it, in the 

 hope of putting his fool into the right track, which 

 he in a short time gaily shouted that he had done, 

 but in which opinion I was decidedly skeptical; 

 and after following il a mile or two, I bcca/no still 

 more decidedly certain that we should never reach 

 a happy termination of our journey, unless we 

 mended our ways. 



.Although, east, west, north, and south, the cheer- 

 ful blaze of some distant prairie fire shot its red 

 rays up to the clouds, there v^a nothing to indicate 

 which way, north or south, or east or west, might 

 be. To steer by the Wind en!iroly, might be some 

 like my present writing — windy. 



In vain did I search the hor!'.on to discover some 

 known object Ilow anxiously did 1 look for some 

 known star: — all were hid. No — there, is that a 

 star? If that twinkling little light closedown to 

 the ground was in any other direction, I should say 

 it was a candle, oi the bright and cheerful light of 

 son.e log cabin firr. It must be. At all eventa, il 

 seemed that our only chance to escape from the drea- 

 ry prospect of a night upon the prairie, was to steer 

 for that light. 



But when a man undertakes to steer through the 

 world by the dim light of another, without any in- 

 nate principle to guide him, he will be let iti »* 

 great a unandary as we were, when in pm^ihffuvvr 

 some inequality of the ground, that lig'ht faded from 

 our view. But as if to prove that a greater and. 

 better light will always shine upon those who strive- 

 to guide themselves aright through life, just at this 

 time the clouds broke away and showed the North 

 Star. 



I now begai: as the sailor would say, to work 

 up my (fcckon ■ g, and by drawing a map in my 

 mind of the vaiioiis coiir.'i'S that wc had travelled 

 sinne dark, and by the aid "fa match, aacertaining- 

 tlie time, I formed the opinion that I could steer 

 direct for home. 



But there was one difficulty ; — there was a riv<^r 

 in the way, and it might not be so easy to find the 

 bridge ; yet, iff was right in my calculations, if" 

 I steered a certain course which [ was then able 

 to do by the wind, I should strike a road before I 

 did the river, and thereby save myself a duck, al- 

 though I could not help thinking thai I was a goosa 

 for being caught in such a scrape. But as the ro- 

 Bull proved, my companion! gave nie more credit 

 for being a (ox tlinn a goose. Certain it is, I 

 smell my way out of a more unpleasant situatiua 

 than I hope to get in again veiy soon. 



But there was a blessing in store for me sufi^. 

 cient to repay all my toil and anxiety lo reach home. 

 A wife and children blooming in health, full of joy- 



