178 
THE CULTIVATOR, 
NOTES OF TRAVEL—No. IV. 
In Missouri, Kentucky , Tennessee and Missouri- 
BY SOLON ROBINSON. 
If I mistake not, my last communication closed whLe we were yet 
in the lead region of Missouri, and as I wish to keep up a continu¬ 
ous narrative of all our wanderings, I shall take up the yarn as near 
as possible where it was last broken off, which I think was the 28th 
of January. 
On the.29th, I passed through the town of Farmington, the name 
of which for once, intimates something of the country around it. 
During the morning ride, the road continued over the same descrip¬ 
tion of hilly poor laud that it had for several previous days, and the 
appearance of the inhabitants corresponding with the country. But 
in the vicinity of this town, the land is good, but the dwellers there¬ 
in lack the go-ahead spirit always observable around a settlement 
composed of “ down-easters.” I observed but little good stock of 
any kind, though from the appearance of the old orchards, it is evi¬ 
dent that somebody had been a long time here—not long enough 
however to trim the fruit trees. In fact, while speaking of this, I 
find a great many persons who contend that peach trees are better 
without trimming. Of this, I cannot say, but I certainly shall conti¬ 
nue to trim mine, commencing in the nursery. 
I don't know but 1 mentioned before, that the red unctuous clay 
that is found with the lead, appears to be conducive to the healthy 
growth of fruit trees. Who can tell what is the fertilising quality it 
contains ? The appearance of wheat still continues unpromising— 
and mills few and far between. 
It may interest some of your readers who keep a memorandum of 
the weather, that I should give occasional notes of the state of it at 
different times and places, so that by reference, they can make com¬ 
parisons. This then, has been a fine sunny day, and mud fast dry¬ 
ing up. 
Jan. 30, I passed Mine-la-Motte, situated in Madison county, the 
oldest worked lead mines in the United States. A tract of land, I 
believe 3 miles by 6, is owned, or rather held under a somewhat 
doubtful title, (the claim being disputed by the heirs of Reno, who 
was here in 1723,) by a company who lease out the right of mining 
for one-tenth of all the ore dug, and also the privilege of buying all 
the miner’s ore at a given price. Notwithstanding these terms are 
considered hard by the miners, there appears to be a large number 
of them engaged, and some eight or ten smelting furnaces in opera¬ 
tion. and two erecting for copper, which is also found here. Cobalt, 
manganese and nickel, are also found,but not worked. The land looks 
as poor as poverty,and shows but little cultivation,and that of a corres¬ 
ponding quality.and if I may judge from the appearance of the misera¬ 
ble little block log cabins, and squalid children, the whole population 
would be far better off if they were settled upon some of the thousands 
of uncultivated acres of rich prairie lying waste within a few day’s 
journey of their present abode. Much of ihe lead ore here found, is 
what is termed u dry bone mineral,” and is intimately mixed with 
the dirt overlying the blue ore. To prepare it for smelting, it is ta¬ 
ken up. dirt and all, and hauled in ox-carts to a stream, where, in a 
place fixed for the purpose, the dirt is washed out by a somewhat te¬ 
dious operation. It also requires a different and hotter furnace to 
smelt it than the blue mineral. Until within five or six j-ears it has 
been considered worthless. It now yields about 55 per cent of lead. 
What vast quantities of “ dry bones” are still thrown away by far¬ 
mers as worthless; and if they would not yield 55 per cent on the 
labor necessary to prepare them for manure, they are still too valu¬ 
able to be thrown away. 
After leaving this last mining tract, and passing over a few miles 
of equally poor land, we came to Frederickton, the county seat of 
Madison, around which is some excellent land, and I am sorry that 
I cannot apply the same term to its cultivation ; but I must speak of 
things as they are, and not as I would like to see them. Here it was 
my intention to have taken a route leading into Arkansas, but finding 
that to do so I must make a long detour to the south-west, on ac¬ 
count of impassable swamps lliat would lay between me and the 
Mississippi; I took the road to Jackson, and passed over about forty 
miles of as miserable country, as one seeking after such a tract, 
could wish to find. It is very hilly, some of which are covered with 
pitch pine, and only along the banks of the streams are found a few 
settlers, who with few exceptions, it may be said, rather stay than 
live. After passing a long, lonely road, from the few houses upon 
which, it seemed as tho gh the inhabitants had died or runaway, I 
arrived long after dark, at a place where I had been told I should 
find the only “ house of entertainment’’ upon the road. * * * 
“And wonld’nt I like something warm and good for supper?” 
asked my landlady—I certainly should—and it length it came. Oh 
ye epicureans, what a treat! Wild turkey and venison, say you—a 
right new country supper ? I can almost hear your lips smack now 
But let me tell you, the supper consisted of seven smali pieces of 
pork ribs for four persons, and a “ power” of very coarse corn 
bread, and some muddy looking warm water called coffee, free from 
any adulteration of cream and sugar, and no other eatable thing on 
the table. And of this I eat, not having then seen the kitchen, 
which I afterwards did ; and the negro cook. T did'nt stop for 
breakfast , though T did for lodging, and slept quite comfortably under 
my two buffalo skins: but in the morning, although I stopped at the 
“ stage-house” for breakfast, the only improvement was, that had I 
been compelled, for want of food to “ kiss the cook.” it would have 
been altogether more agreeable than the evening before. If possible, 
the house was worse. It is an old saying that “ one half the world 
don’t know how the other half live.” I wish they did. I think they 
would be more conlented and grumble less. And I wish the other 
half knew how they lived themselves ; I think they would live better. 
In truth, I think it would be beneficial to us all to know a little more 
how the other half of the world live, and by comparing the situation 
of others by our own. trv to improve 
But I must leave moralising over poor suppers and worse break¬ 
fasts, and jump over these poor hills and down along the banks of a 
stream whose waters look as though somebody had spilt their milk 
in them, and when within a mile of Jackson, the county seat of Cape 
Girardeau, we seem to strike an entirely different region of land ; and 
the first good looking place after leaving the hills, I find belongs to a 
Mr. Criddle, an old Virginia tobacco planter, who is very successful 
here, and has of his last year crop now on hand, about 40,000 lbs. 
He, as well as many other subscribers, would like the Cultivator to 
give a price current of several leading articles in several eastern ci¬ 
ties. Mr. Criddle’s land is rolling, yellowish clayey soil, and produ¬ 
ces hemp as well as tobacco. 
The town of Jackson is on a hilly location, 12 miles from the river 
and contains several good buildings; the court-house, bank, &c., 
and has a land office, in one of the officers of which, Mr. Davis, I 
found a very warm friend of agricultural improvement, and through 
his assistance and information, some dozen of the spirited and intel¬ 
ligent. gentlemen of this town became subscribers to the Cultivator. 
If the U. S. government had the same liberal views that this one of 
her officers has, they would not only graduate the public land to a 
grade that it would sell at, but much of the land that I have passed 
over between here and St. Louis, they would give away to whoev¬ 
er would take it, and be well rid of it at that. Indeed, as much as 
Missouri has been boasted of for richness of soil, it is a fact that ma¬ 
ny do not seem to be aware of, that the south half of the State con¬ 
tains vast tracts of mountainous barren soil that is scarcely inhabita¬ 
ble, and will undoubtedly so remain for a long time. True, it has great 
mineral wealth. The celebrated “ iron mountain” lies only a few 
miles west of the route I traveled, and although only some 40 or 50 
miles from the Missouri river, yet the impediments in the way of 
making an easy mode of transporting this richest of all iron ore in 
the known world, has hitherto kept it in the deep forest buried. And 
our government is not one to lend much aid to those who buy her 
lands, whether to improve the science of agriculture or develop mi¬ 
neral wealth. But let us jog on. Though before I leave Jackson, 
let me say that from experiment of several of the citizens, they find 
the valley land best for orchards, and old rotten wood the best ma¬ 
nure. The hill land appears too dry in summer. I have noticed se¬ 
veral orchards that were planted by the French, that are 40 or 50 
years old—and don’t look as though they had been trimmed in all 
that time The question is often asked me, “ should orchards be 
cultivated in other crops?” I answer yes, always, uniil the trees get 
big enough to take care of themselves. Grass is injurious to young 
trees; though for the matter of that, I don’t think it is likely to injure 
them in this part of Missouri; there is not enough raised to injure 
any thing. Wheat still looks poor—has the appearance of having 
just come up. 
From Jackson, I traveled the “ dividing ridge all the waters to 
the north and west, instead of running toward the Missouri, run 
away from it and spread out in the swamps of Arkansas. After lea¬ 
ving the ridge about a dozen miles from Jackson, we have a swamp 
five miles across, through which the water run ten feet deep during 
the high water of last summer, not finding its way back again to the 
river until it had wended its way perhaps 200 miles through the 
swamps. This water leaves the river a few miles below Cape Gi¬ 
rardeau, in consequence of the high bank that formerly kept it in its 
channel, having been washed away during the last season, proving 
very injurious to many who found themselves suddenly in possession 
of a new water power upon their farms—rather an uncontrolable 
one to be sure—that instead of serving to grind their corn, served 
them with notice that they could not have any to grind. 
Across this swamp the road is partly through, not over, a very soft 
black soil, and partly over a raised causeway only 8 feet wide, and 
upon which, if two wagons were to meet, I suppose one would have 
to drive over the other, as there is but one chance in several miles to 
drive round. 
From here to Benton, the land improves, and there are some good 
farms; those of Mr. Hutson and Mr. Allen, clerk of the county of 
Scott, being the best in appearance. Crops, corn and tobacco. Ben¬ 
ton is a town that would not do much honor to the gentleman for 
whose honor it was named. * * * Although il was 
night, I hurried past the town, and out to a farm house, where I felt 
much more comfortable. Here I found plenty of corn, and about 40 
head of horses to consume it, and of a breed very common in this 
part of the State, which 1 wish I could give you an accurate idea of. 
They are generally light sorrel, with white face and feet, about 15 
hands high, with legs bigger than a deer, that support a body in pro¬ 
portion to the legs. In winter they run in “ the lot,” and eat corn 
out of a hollow log, and in summer they run wherever they can to 
get away from the hordes of flies and musquitoes that infest the 
swamp where they are sent to “ range for themselves.” The cattle 
in this part of the State are of the same order, and kept in the same 
manner. Now corn is an excellent rich grain to make pork, but if 
it is suitable food to manufacture bone and muscle from for young 
stock, then Professor Johnston and many others know nothing about 
science. It is however a fact that where the most corn is fed and 
little else, there I find the “ scrub breed” in the highest state of 
scrubbiness. 
At this last stopping place, I found some excellent sweet potatoes, 
the first vegetable that I have seen upon the table since I left St. Lou¬ 
is ; and the owner assures me that the whole secret in keeping 
sweet potatoes is lo keep them dry and warm. Mind, warm—not 
hot. He packs them in sun dried sand. This section of country 
still shows the marks of the earthquakes of 1811. In fact, there have 
been slight shocks every winter since—sometimes the earth cracks 
open and blows out quantities of sand. 
Feb. 2, which, bear in mind, was the first. Sunday, was a mild, 
clear, pleasant day, here in Missouri, a few miles west of the mouth 
of ihe Ohio river. How was it with you, reader ? 
This day in a 20 mile drive over mostly poor sandy black oak bar¬ 
rens. and across a small sandy level prairie, I passed through a cou¬ 
ple of miles of Cypress swamp, along a road the like of which would 
