Scenes and Adventures in the Army: Or, Romance of Military Life

mood."

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

MY furlough was past! What varied emotions did that reflection excite! Strong were the regrets at parting for an indefinite period from devoted relations; and the young heart yearning with romantic hope, might well shudder on the threshold of the real life.

The stage-coach was at the door.

Those sorrowful partings over, with happy elasticity, I was soon enjoying the rapid motion of the coach—always exhilarating—but then severing me from the safe haven of home affections, and hearts which trembled painfully as I was thus launched on life's perilous voyage.

For at careless eighteen, impressions are fleeting; and the world, aye, the western world, was all before me, and bright with the anticipations of novelty and enjoyment: and the freshness and adventure of travel, were to be shared by the warm friends of my academical youth.

With a number of these, who, like myself, obeying the calls of duty and inclination, were to make a long journey westward, I had planned a meeting at a village in Maryland. And never was appointment better kept, than by my before widely-separated comrades; and eager and warm were the greetings of that midnight hour! But we were hurried, by an unsympathizing driver, to resume, together, our night-ride; we had the coach, fortunately, all to ourselves; but right soon, in darkness, came the reaction of our exuberant spirits, and we began to drop off into wonderfully confused and uneasy postures, and the sleep of careless youth.

And thus we journeyed on; joking and joyous by day, —at night, snarling from unceremonious slumbers.

At Wheeling we made a halt for some days: we had been jolted and jumbled enough for lovers of variety, and "la belle riviere" tempted us to embark our fortunes, or rather persons, on its shining currents; but, in truth, its beauties were too superficial; and we were assured that the lightest bark would make but a tedious progress through its deceitful shallows. So we were fain content, with our ranks further swelled to a most lively number, again to take stage, and thus pursue our journey to Cincinnati. I remember the numberless black squirrels which we saw the first morning, sharing the rich fruits of those many corn-crowned hills; and the number which we found in a tree in front of our breakfasting house; and how, after being routed out of its topmost branches, the poor fellows were forced to make beautiful leaps to the ground.

From Cincinnati we went by steamboat to Louisville. There we mustered twenty strong; and remained eight rainy days, waiting for the river to rise. Our time passed pleasantly enough in that hospitable city, which would seem to be a favorite with the army, for many of its officers have formed the tenderest of ties there. During our stay, we shared in the most popular sport of the sportloving Kentuckians,—a horse race. The course is several miles from the city; but we were all there, and beheld seven long-legged colts contend for the prize; and that Kentucky spicing to such pleasures—a fight or two—was not wanting to complete the day's experience.

In due time the river did rise, and we embarked for Jefferson Barracks, the new School of Instruction. The boat seemed to be chartered by the military; we filled the cabin, and the deck was monopolized by a detachment of recruits. The passage was a long, but merry one; and that cards were played, I am too faithful a historian to deny.

Many years have elapsed, but I have now before my eyes the vivid impression of a night-scene near the mouth of the Ohio. The moon was a graceful crescent, and the glassy waters, glittering with its beams, reflected, too, many a lovely star, and caught the soft azure of their airy depths; and this beautiful reflection of a bright and starry sky, seemed to tremble at the mysterious and thorough gloom of the primeval forests. And another boat passed by, with its brilliant lights, magical motion, and solemn, echoed sounds; its bright path, too, and its long succession of regular and polished waves, each a mirror for the lovely moon. There is something startling, if not awful, by night, in those hollow but sonorous echoes to the escape pipe, which the lofty forests of the western river-bottoms give out; they seem the angry bellowings of wood demons, aroused by this intrusion of man and his wondrous works.

Right well do I remember, too, a scene different as possible, though by night: a western storm upon the waters! The boat was, fortunately, moored under the verge of one of those immense Mississippi bottoms,—in itself, by night, awful as the wastes of ocean. The rain fell as if nature was dissolved: the caverns of earth are never darker than it was then; the roar of waters and darkness were the universe. I was alone, and enjoying its sublimity, forgot that my poor body was exposed to the tempest.

The boat touched at dawn of the eighth day at Jefferson Barracks. Those who had slept at all, had risen; an adjutant, mounted on an immense black horse, and having for suite, a whole troop of dogs, received us on the bank, and proceeded with us to report to his chief, Colonel L. We were exhilarated in our walk over that delightful spot by three bands, striking up from different hill-tops and groves, the familiar, beautiful, but never so charming reveille. The Colonel, evidently just out of bed, received us with great kindness and frankness; and readily consented to our proceeding in the boat to St. Louis; and in a few hours we were all on shore, exploring the terra incognita of that rising city of the West.

CHAPTER II.

THE characteristics of St. Louis, in 1827, which first struck me, were the muddiness of the streets—the badness of the hotels—the numbers of the Creole-French, speaking the French language—working on the Sabbath —a floating population of trappers, traders, boatmen, and Indians—and finally, an absence of paper currency. These were all very distinctive; and in truth, St. Louis bad very little of the Anglo-American character. Rowdyism was the order of the day—the predominating influence of the street population of Indian traders and other northwestern adventurers. These men, in outre dresses, and well armed, were as characteristic in their deportment as sailors; exhibiting the independence, confidence, and recklessness of their wild and lawless way of life. All this was food for my companions on the qui vive for novelty; they were to be seen in all directions, on voyages of discovery through the mud, and seemed suddenly to have become a very homogeneous element in this rare compound: and parties of officers from the barracks daily galloped into the town, which they enlivened in a sort of sailor-like style. Fun and frolic then prevailed in St. Louis.

But our duties at the barracks did not permit us to remain long in this attractive city; so after a punctual call upon a certain army official, who cures that most distressing of human afflictions, a consumptive purse, and after receiving a quantum of hard dollars (not sufficient to produce a plethora), we bade adieu to the lively town until—the next time. Some of the party, like children pleased with a new toy, had already purchased Indian ponies, upon which they shuffled off, after a most unmilitary fashion, to their post.

One of the actors in those scenes can fail to recur with some pleasure, to the gayeties of 1827-8 at Jefferson Barracks. One of the regiments was in cantonment on the south side of the first hill; a quarter of a mile farther on, another, the 6th infantry, was encamped; on the crest of the next hill, were extensive stone barracks in progress; and still lower down, on its southern declivity, were encamped the 1st infantry; some staff and other officers, with their families, were in huts in various detached situations. Two of the regiments had, a few months before, arrived from a remote outpost. There, cut off from the world, and dependent on their own resources, the officers had not failed to make themselves what amends they might, and to cultivate the most friendly intimacies, on which were founded a thousand practical jokes and endless adventures; and the pleasures and incidents of this, a kind of golden age, they had in truth, the least disposition in the world to consign to oblivion.

A day or two after joining, I, with several friends, dined at the regimental mess of the 6th. It then was a mess indeed—in numbers and in spirit, a delightful mess, such as few regiments now have. Noble spirits! brave friends! How devoted, how social were you then! How modest, yet how ardent, was your esprit de corps! whereever active service was to be done, on the borders of Mexico, or in the far North, you were there! And have you not led the moving battery to victory, and poured out your life-blood, like water, in Florida? You are scattered and gone, but well I remember the regiment to which you belonged.

But the past and the present must be kept distinct. I thought them a glorious set at that first dinner. The president was Capt., with his splendid whiskers and mustaches, dignified and easy in his manners, he seemed a type of the old school; and from that, the inference may be drawn, that he took wine freely when in such happy company; to the life of which, indeed, he gave a constant impulse. And the caterer was Adjutant J., a noble fellow, whose looks alone could make a friend; and R delighted us with his endless sallies, his jokes and merriment. I have now before me his immense whiskers, and his twinkling, deep-set eyes, lost nearly in incessant laughter—and his dance, too, upon the dinner-table, which was the finale.

Capt., soon after became in low health, and being of impatient temper, his spirits sunk under it. His life was in danger; and as a last resort, Surgeon Gr. prescribed a singular mode of treatment—a novel kind of excitement—which was intrusted to Lieut. R. He paraded daily around the Captain's tent with a long face, whistling the dead march; and it so happened that, being first on the list, the Captain's death would cause his promotion. But Capt., taking this view of it, very seriously waxed wrathful, and swore he would not die for his tormentor's sake; and the cure was made.

What would thirty young officers be at? Not much time was consumed in considering such a question; in all intervals of duty we gladly resigned ourselves to the influences of chance or impulse, and sufficient to the day were the pleasures thereof; none thought of the morrow; to the many all was new, even the service itself—a new country and manners, and there were some new Beauties. Daily, numbers of us would be surprised by the dinnerdrum at the camp of the hospitable 6th or 1st, and then it was useless to attempt an excuse; go you must to the mess. Many and delightful were those dinners at mess! Right joyous was it to mingle with those officers, whose minds and manners had received a fresh mould from their life in the generous, the open-hearted, daring and adventurous—the frank and hospitable far West; and what stores of anecdote and right marvellous adventure had been laid up in seven years' service at the famous Council Bluffs! Wine flowed freely, our spirits overflowed.

What other could be more delightful than this favored spot, with its gently-rolling hills crowned with lofty forest trees, without undergrowth, save grass and wild flowers; and a river, the noblest in the world, running by? Such is Jefferson Barracks. On a level space just upon the bank of the river, shaded and adorned by clumps of venerable but vigorous trees, oaks and sycamores, was the grand guard parade, generally enlivened by the music of a full band—a delightful resort! Ay, and other attractions were wont to fill the measure of its popularity; beauty added its spell to the charming scene; the young and lovely came often there at an early hour of rosy morning, when nature is in her happiest mood.

But how can garrison life be dwelt on? It cannot, unless, indeed, we descend to all those trifles that fill the precious hours and steal away the days. A soldier is all his country's; his irregular though numerous duties divide his time, distract his attention, and defeat his plans. How difficult, then, to avoid the fate of becoming the mere soldier. A knowledge of the world, a graceful carriage, easy manners, general but superficial information, with lofty aspirations, bitter repinings, and habits of idleness—these are his inheritance; the light and easy garment that he receives in exchange for the mantle of eminence. But why now question the seal of fate?

The middle of December found the 6th still in camp. Our log-fires in front of tents had become centres of attraction; but the smoke was a great enemy to our comfort. It was amusing to observe a gathering round a fire; the little circle seated on stools, boxes, or logs; some one was continually attacked, and would run for his breath, and forming his circuit, his enemy, less quick, though airy, seeming to follow at first, would leave him for another, who, in his turn, uttering broken maledictions, would make his circular retreat, seeking another or the same seat, ere long again to be routed.

The sporting tribe might be seen here and there examining a horse, or physicking a dog, or restraining vociferously the vagaries of a whole pack of them. A few sly ones would find their way to old Capt. 's tent, which had a brick chimney, together with the luxury of a mantel-piece; and this mantel-piece had notoriously a remarkable capacity for holding sugar dishes, whole battalions of mint phials, not to omit a great julep pitcher, which was commonly well filled. Oh camps! with your exposures and privations, how you encourage and excuse the solid comfort of a julep!

Before Christmas, the 6th were in the stone barracks, half finished and uncomfortable, and were crowded several in a room; and it was our lot, after turning into bunk, in the small hours of the night, to be saluted at day-dawn with the din of hammers overhead, an occasional shower of dust and mortar, with a sprinkling of brickbats, which fairly bade us, at the peril of our heads, sleep no more.

On new-year's morn many were they who found themselves at that log temple of hospitality, the mess-house of the 1st, and paid their devoirs to a half whiskey barrel in the middle of an immense table, foaming to the top with egg-nog. The 6th regiment that day entertained all at the post at a dinner, and midnight found us still at the table.

On the 8th of January, the 1st gave a splendid ball in an unfinished barrack; a noble display of flags was above and around us, with hundreds of bright muskets with a candle in the muzzle of each. Many from St. Louis were there; and Louisville, too, had several beautiful representatives.

Thus flew by six months on the wings of pleasure. But the time came when the 1st and 6th, long associated as a band of brothers, were to part; the former being ordered to the Upper Mississippi. Their furniture being packed up, the whole of them for several days messed with the 6th. Our last dinner I shall never forget; we sought to drown the bitter regrets of parting in the extravagant enjoyment of the last fleeting minutes. At the winding up, Capt. G. delivered from a table, in an Indian language, a characteristic farewell speech, which, as interpreted, began— Our great Father has long smiled upon our fellowship; his councils now are bad, a cloud is before his face, &c

The summer came, and was passed pleasantly enough. At its close I was well pleased to be ordered on my first active service.

CHAPTER III.

ON the 27th of September, 1828, I left Jefferson Barracks, to conduct a detachment of about forty recruits to Fort Crawford, at Prairie du Chien. There was no officer with me. I embarked in two Mackinaw boats, as they are called; they are of about three tons burden, without deck or box, sharp fore and aft. Mine were old and leaky. I found it tedious and laborious for eight oarsmen to force them against the current in many parts of the Mississippi; and, according to the custom of the country, took advantage of bare sand-bars and open banks to use the cordel; that is, to send ashore ten or fifteen men to tow the boat by means of a long rope attached to the head of a small mast. In doubling the points of bars, and in other shallow places, these men would wade along with the cordel on their shoulders, sometimes for a mile, perhaps half-leg deep; it was working a passage with a vengeance at that season. I made my first camp on Bloody Island, near St. Louis. While I was in the city next morning, getting a barrel or two of hard bread, my sergeant, who was an old hand of the 6th, made, with no other tool than an axe, a very good rudder, from a standing tree.

The morning after, I passed the mouth of the Missouri. This river, after draining the valleys of the Rocky Mountains, and receiving tributaries throughout a course of three thousand miles, precipitates its turbid currents right across the placid bosom of the Mississippi, to which, losing its name, it imparts its character.

A few miles above the junction is the mouth of the Illinois, itself a great river, navigable for steamboats some four hundred miles; but little known to fame, eclipsed, as it were, by the grandeur of the West. I encamped at Portage de Sioux; it was a moonlit night; on the opposite verge of a noble sheet of water—the river, placid and calm, but giving to the ear the solemn, distant music of its currents—stood lofty and fantastical rocks, of the height and a little resembling the Palisades of the Hudson; but these were cavernous, and there were arches, pilasters, and isolated turrets. They appeared the ruins of a castellated city; the soft light of the moon helping out the imagination, with a most perfect clear-obscure.

Some dozen miles below Clarksville, in company with my sergeant, I went on shore, as I frequently had done, to hunt. We had moved leisurely along an hour or two, when we began to find ourselves a little out of our bearings, or rather had become entangled with the sloughs of the river; after much fatigue we found ourselves in the edge of an immense level prairie bottom, where the grass was seven or eight feet high. A high bluff rose beyond, and I confess that, left to myself, I should have made for it, firmly believing that it was the opposite bank of the river; but my companion, an excellent woodsman, knew better, and saved me a seven or eight miles' trudge through this prairie sea. But the best he could do was to strike the main river at night; opposite, as it happened, to Clarksville. We crossed in a crazy canoe; and I found the boats had not passed or arrived! What a predicament for a young commander! I was much annoyed, but made out to take a good night's rest in bed, with philosophical resignation.

My men arrived next morning, to my joy and surprise, with nothing amiss, save numerous red eyes, and a broken demijohn, which it was plain had been well hugged before being subjected to such ill-treatment.

Some fifty miles below the Des Moines rapids, when weary of our slow progress, and with our store of pork very low, it was reported to me early one morning that some of the men were in pursuit of wild hogs. They soon after brought in two immensely large black ones, which they assured me were selected as the smallest of the herd, which had rushed at the men and forced them to take refuge in trees. A settler or hunter of the vicinity had joined in the sport. They were a seasonable supply, and were forthwith skinned and salted. While thus employed, a steamboat hove in sight below. On its arrival I had my boats taken in tow. My recruits soon gave me a spice of their quality; they were enlisted at Natchez, and were as precious a set of scoundrels as were perhaps ever there collected; they were drunken and mutinous from this time until after we quit the steamer at the rapids. One of them, whom I had tied up with a half-inch rope, repeatedly gnawed himself loose!

At the foot of these rapids was a passenger barge in tow of a steam keel-boat, with about twenty passengers, who bad already waited some two weeks with Turkish resignation, for fate, or higher water, to forward them on their journey. Genius of railroads! spirit of a travelling age! Think, ye eastern locomotive bipeds, who, spirited over the earth at the rate of 600 miles a day, snarl at the grievous detention of a minute—think of this, and learn moderation. These said travellers spent their nights, I discovered, playing at cards; how they got through with their days passes my comprehension.

On the rocks of these rapids I abandoned one of my boats, having a second time overhauled and attempted to caulk it. I left it bottom upwards, giving it at parting, out of pure malice, several gashes with an axe. It was soon afterwards seized by a wrecker as a lawful prize, sold for five dollars, and again for ten; and the last purchaser, by sawing it in two and planking up the stern, had a very good make-shift craft for down stream work.

I had now to leave a party on shore, with orders to march as much in sight of my boat as they could. Night came on, and nothing was to be heard or seen of the detachment. Until 10 o'clock we kept on, firing signals, but to no purpose. We encamped on a miserable island; and in the middle of the next day we found them at a hut near the shore. All this was occasioned by the immense number of islands; the main shore had not been visible for thirty miles on either side.

I was now about three weeks out, and this point was fifty miles below Fort Armstrong, at Rock Island. Our provisions were exhausted; nothing but a few potatoes could be had at the house. I heard that there was a trail to Fort Armstrong, which cut off much of the distance; so I immediately ordered my adventurous land detachment to take it, while my naval affairs went on as usual, save that our faces had become longer, and our belts contracted. My rifle was sole commissary, and a deer and a few birds were all it supplied. We reached the vicinity of Rock Island next mid-day, in a heavy gale. I had previously ripped a' wall-tent, and converted it into a sail. It was exceedingly cold, the wind almost ahead, and the waves very high; but I did not feel like standing on trifles, under the circumstances, and so near to port. A flaw struck and would have swamped us, but for the frailness of our tackle; in an instant a great hole was blown through the sail, then every rope snapped, and the old tent stood straight out from the mast-head. My men from numbness, fear, or ignorance, gave me no assistance, so that necessity suddenly made me a tolerable fresh-water sailor. All arrived safe; but my land party spent another night out, as the ferrymen at the fort were afraid, or so pretended, to bring them across to the island, although they had such a boat as mine.

The next day but one, having taken in supplies, and been treated with true hospitality by the officers, I proceeded on my voyage.

About this point in ascending is observed a change in the river scenery; the solemn and drear bottoms, and the falling in banks of the lower Mississippi, are scarce observable above the mouth of the Missouri, where the river assumes very much the appearances of the Ohio. At this point again (marked by the passage of a great rocky chain, developed in dangerous rapids, and in this, the first, rocky island above the Gulf—and a beautiful one it is) the shore scenery becomes, like that of many smaller clear streams, variegated with rock and hill, pretty valleys, grassy slopes, and gravel beaches.

I arrived at Fort Crawford, 180 miles above Rock Island, and about 600 above St. Louis, on the 23d of October, and having marched my party into the fort, Where is your order? quoth the officer in command.

In my trunk, sir.

Get your orders, sir, and I will then receive your party, was his answer.

After this was complied with, no point of ceremony was wanting; but I was ordered to proceed with the detachment to Fort Snelling. My orders had been to return from this point forthwith; a steamboat was in port, a rare chance, and the gaieties and other attractions of my post, and St. Louis, arose on my youthful imagination, only to embitter my real prospect of winter quarters in 'the frozen region of the St. Peter's; but,

"I am a soldier, and my craft demands,

That whereso duty calls, within earth's

Compass * * * I do forthwith obey."

CHAPTER IV.

THE commander of Fort Crawford fitted me out liberally; gave me two more boats, one of which had been made as comfortable as possible for a lady; and luckily there were ten disciplined soldiers to go up. To crown all, I was intrusted with a monthly mail-bag, tied up, the papers and periodicals of which I was recommended to read. I dare say I felt, the first day, as pleased and comfortable as a new-made commodore.

The scenery grows still more interesting as we ascend beyond the mouth of the Wisconsin; the bluffs, or small mountains, always rising from the water on one side or the other, assume a thousand picturesque shapes; some are clothed with forests, others with grass—are now rocky, and again are perfectly smooth. Perfect cones are to be seen, and then two such, connected by grassy plains. Frequently the interior structure of rock is exposed by the action of rains, and art could scarcely fashion more regular walls than you see; at places they are vertical and lofty; again, they recede in steps, like the terrace-walls of a falling garden.

It seemed that all the millions of migrating water-fowls passed me in review; they appeared to follow the course of the river, and I ascertained, I thought, that they stopped regularly at nightfall. How many posts of refreshment a squadron of them would make from the Lake of the Woods to the Balize, was not so easily settled; but our repose was frequently disturbed by the deafening clatter of their myriads, that happened to anchor for the night in some neighboring bay.

I encamped one evening in a narrow but lovely valley between a towering massive bluff, covered with oaks, and a lofty prairie hill. After night, I walked to its grassy top; the moon was just full, and a long path of smooth water glittered with its reflected light. Very far, on either hand, the river was seen amidst the hills, which it reflected like a polished mirror. The little valley, softened by the mellow light, wound its graceful curves, until lost to the eye in the dim primeval wastes. My camp was out of sight and forgotten; and after a long view, full of admiration, a sense of utter loneliness crept over me, and added to the excitement of many rushing thoughts. I felt as a wandering being, cast upon a new world, that beheld from its summits lifeless but strange beauty. A light air rustling, made me aware how awful a silence had reigned, thus gently stirred as by a spirit voice, uneasy at the first intrusion of a mortal. I could hear the beating of my heart; the spell which bound me became painful, and I ran at speed along the narrow summit; I stopped, and would have uttered a cry, but in very truth my voice refused to obey me; at last it came forth, but so unnatural and shrill that it seemed a mockery. I rushed down from this hill, where white man had never trod before, and was soon in the midst of those beings plainly insensible to the stamp of quiet beauty on all around—the rugged pioneers in these new regions of a race who would willingly mar it all, and plant here, too, the seeds of care, of strife, and of misery.

Nature, like the character of man, is full of contrasts; the elements are often stilled, as here, in the calm repose of beauty, to soothe and soften our earthly passions; and anon are stirred up to fearful conflict, and seeming to threaten the world with wreck, inspire man with the dignity of strong emotion and lofty thought.

The next evening I was tempted by a favorable wind to ease the labor of much rowing, and sail long after night. As I advanced, I found the prairies of all the surrounding country to be on fire. It was a dark and cloudy night; the winds at length blew boisterously—the world seemed on fire, and there was a lurid reflection of flames from water and cloud, and tossed columns of smoke: it was awful. We sailed on in spell-bound silence, we scarce knew whither; the other boats of my little fleet, now seen and now disappearing, like phantoms in the horrible obscurity. How many objects of sublimity! the storm contending with the waters, and darkness with the dreary light of a general conflagration!

At one point we saw a long mountain bluff, which was partially separated from a lofty prairie hill, shaped like a sugar loaf, by a narrow and precipitous ravine. The bluffs had been charred black as a coal, but so lately that spots of fire still shone, brighter and scarce larger than stars; the ravine, its steep sides densely timbered, was like a blazing furnace; the grass of the conical hill adjoining was just on fire, and the flames ascended in graceful spiral curves to the top!

This is an accurate description of the most singular contrasts and beautiful sight I ever beheld. I had never imagined mountains in masquerade; but here was one by which NIGHT was accurately typified.

It came on to rain very hard; it was midnight, and utterly dark. I steered, I knew not whither, but to touch land. We did not strike the shore, but an island; it was covered with rushes, those vegetable files, which I can hardly think of without having my teeth set on edge. My recruits spent some hours in kindling a fire; but, wrapt in my cloak, I resigned myself to sleep in the bottom of a boat.

We lay a day, wind-bound, at the foot of Lake Pepin. This is an enlargement of the river, about twenty-seven miles long, and from two to four broad; it is very deep, and is bounded by mountains and rocky shores; it is subject to high winds; and lofty waves and sunken rocks render it dangerous. While staying here, I witnessed (and was exposed to some danger from) the burning of a prairie bottom, the grass of which was very tall and luxuriant. I have read a description (I believe in The Prairie) which is very accurate, of its wonderful rapidity —the flame leaping forward with almost the wind's velocity, the stems of great weeds exploding like pistol shots. Only under these circumstances, very rarely upon the rolling prairies, are these fires dangerous.

The wind lulled, at sunset, and the lake being notorious for boisterous weather, I determined to row through in the night. So, hoisting a light in my boat, in which I had a Creole pilot, we took our departure. A long and dreary night it was, and very cold; the water froze upon the oars. We arrived in the river above soon after sunrise, landed and took breakfast.

When my men flagged, and the progress was slow and weary, it was my custom, on this voyage, to make long races, offering for prize an extra gill of whiskey to the crew of the successful boat. To judge from their extraordinary exertions, a greater prize could not have been offered; it was a double stimulant.

On the 2d of November I arrived, all well, at Fort Snelling.

CHAPTER V.

AT Fort Snelling I found old friends and officers with whom I had served at Jefferson Barracks: but independent of the most hearty hospitality—which I have ever met with on these occasions—an arrival, a new face, at such an outpost of civilization as this, is a bright link in that nearly severed chain which connects it with the world, gives an exciting impulse to its small society, which reacts upon the visitor, and is the source of unwonted pleasure to all.

The defences of this fort are high stone walls; it stands on an elevated point, the confluence of the Mississippi and St. Peter's rivers. In the rear is a prairie, nearly level, and many miles in extent: an agreeable circumstance, when it is considered that chasing wolves and racing are almost the only resource for amusement and exercise. I rode over it nine miles, to the Falls of St. Anthony. The Mississippi here falls twenty-two feet perpendicularly; in places, immense masses of rock, disjointed and fallen from immemorial abrasion, add to the scene a sublime confusion and roar of waters. I heard that evening at the fort the sound of the falls very plainly. They are said to mark the 45th parallel of north latitude.

During my stay of two days, one of the Mackinaw boats in which I had gone up was condemned, and sold at auction (for $5!) to an officer of the fort, an old friend, who decided to accompany me on my return. We took our departure in the afternoon, having for crew my pilot and a discharged soldier, with a negro lad for cabin boy; one of us was always at the helm. Some eight or nine miles down, my friend discovered that he had unluckily left a well-stored liquor case. We landed in consequence, near an Indian camp, and despatched two Indians with a note for it; they went in a canoe. We encamped, and were somewhat annoyed by the intrusion of our red friends.

While waiting for the messengers, let me give an account of our messing. There was abundant store of cold boiled ham, of the true Virginia flavor—of corned beef, and of chickens: and the buffalo tongue should not be forgotten. Our coffee—not used with the stinting hand of a frugal housekeeper—was made after the most approved method, and with extreme care and attention; it was drawn with boiling water, like tea, and not suffered to boil afterwards. But who shall do justice to the venison, roasted in bits on a stick, with alternate pieces of salt pork? First, the pleasing toil of the hunt, and the triumph of success; then the labor-inspired appetite, after the long fast which excitement forgot; then the lively fire at night, under majestic forest trees; and oh (climax), the pieces of venison, bitten with nature's weapons—not profaned with cold dull knife—and reeking hot from the wooden spit! 0, let me die eating ortolans, to the sound of soft music! Bah!

About midnight I was awoke from a sound sleep; a candle was just expiring in the tent; I looked up and saw two dark forms almost over me, uttering with violent gesticulation the loudest