THE WESTERN ECHO:

A DESCRIPTION

OF THE

Western States and Territories

OF THE UNITED STATES.

AS GATHERED IN A TOUR BY WAGON.

BY

GEORGE W. ROMSPERT.



DAYTON, OHIO:
United Brethren Publishing House.
1881.



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1881,
By G. W. ROMSPERT,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

CONTENTS

PREFACE.

It is the object of the author, by this volume, to place before the people a brief history of the western states and territories through which he traveled in a late long overland tour, together with a sketch of the customs and occupations of the people in all the parts described. A journey by wagon through so much territory, by so many unknown, has furnished the author with knowledge that will be of so much value to persons who think of going West, and more especially to those who intend trying their fortunes in the regions of the setting sun, that he feels himself somewhat in duty bound to reduce it to print. Many fabulous and speculative histories have been written of the same country; and, with prejudiced pens, they have been deceitful records. Far from this is the motive of the present writer. And he hopes the fruits of his labor will prove valuable to persons who intend relying upon the merits of the West for a future livelihood as well as those who intend journeying thither merely for health, speculation, or pleasure; for to all such this work is respectfully dedicated.

Dayton, Ohio, May 1, 1881.

INTRODUCTION.

Ever since there was an East there was a West, and from the fact that the great race of humanity had its birth upon the highlands of Asia, the latter has always been a land of discovery, into which the boldest of an overpopulated country must make the first strides, contend with the greatest dangers and exposures, and break the first soil. The great pair of Eden have wonderfully multiplied; and their posterity, like a mighty wave, is fast flowing toward the western horizon. This great emigration has been a continuous seige of adventure; and many a worthy life has been lost while opening the road that must soon bear the broad marks of civilization. Many volumes contain the records of humanity; and the most interesting and touching part of man’s career is the frontier life, which has been a continuous battle in the wilderness ever since the first back was turned against the eastern sky. What a glorious thing it has ever been that for every difficulty there has been a surmounter, and for every wave a rider! What a treasure to the world was he who first plowed the foaming Atlantic and moored his bark upon the shores of the great America! The event has proved one of necessity for the support of the growing millions, and is a lesson that for every creature there is a home. The mighty rivers that flowed so long in vain through the East of this golden land now bear upon their bosoms mighty ships, laded with the produce of the soil. The little streams that rippled so long unheard upon their pebble beds, have all kissed the ruby lips of civilization; and the splendid soil that yielded so long to the savage tread, has at last found a husbandman, and fields of golden grain wave proudly where the roots of the mighty forests have long since decayed. But, like every other country, the first part found has been the first overdone. One half of the world knows not how the other half lives; and, likewise, thousands who live in the civilized and improved East are perfectly ignorant of the great country lying west of them. True, the land has been crossed and the history written; but the accounts have been so varied that many who have a desire to find new homes and breathe purer air, feel quite a delicacy in putting everything they have to so uncertain an adventure. Many examples of families seeking their fortunes in a land of which they have not even the most limited knowledge,—or into which they have been betrayed by the misrepresentations of those who value money in their own pocket higher than comfort in the poor man’s family,—and returning in perfectly destitute circumstances, have proved this fear to be well founded. Nearly all the histories that have been written of the land now in view were got up by land-sharks, or by persons who took a single tour through the country, often on the train, and not seeing one eighth of the country of which they write, nor stopping long enough in a place to learn the ways and customs of the inhabitants, nor testing the soil, climate, and general prospects of the country upon which the emigrant must rely. Far from this method has been the means of this author’s information, which he wishes to place before the people in the present volume. With a deep conviction of common duty, every line is marked; and the many facts gathered by so much peril and exposure will certainly be a valuable fountain to all those to whom this work is dedicated.

G. W. R.

The Western Echo.

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

A back turned upon the State of Ohio is a back turned against the Eden of the Union! And to a person whose lot it has been to be born in this beautiful land, and whose borders he has never crossed, to think of quitting a civilized and happy home to wander in the land where the savage screams and the growl of the wild beast may be heard is certainly somewhat embarrassing. Nevertheless, being more than ordinarily interested in the narratives of the frontier, the author, with two comrades, John Routsong and Johnny Lair,—being stout, robust young men of the vicinity of Dayton,—resolved to test the truth of what we had heard and read by seeing for ourselves, even if it had to be done at the price of a hair or two. Accordingly, a topped spring-wagon and a good team were procured, and lightly we tripped along, eager to prove ourselves Davids, and anxious to wrap ourselves in the robes of the wild buffaloes of the prairie, the giants of our own slaying. The first part of our journey, from its novelty, was the merriest; and sweeter dreams than we dreamed while lying upon the hard ground, with nothing but a tent to shelter us from the dews of heaven, were never dreamed by a king in his palace. Wishing to fully experience the effect of camp-life, we did our own cooking from the start; and never having graduated in the pastry art, we were obliged to forsake knickknacks. And how natural it was that we grew more and more hardy from our new diet, which we eat in the pure, open air. Being in the month of June, the weather was warm and the roads were delightful, and we merrily passed along until we found ourselves treading Hoosier soil. As we wended our way toward the interior of the state, equestrianism became quite common; and in some of the back parts of the country we were amused at seeing the people finding their way to church in two-horse farm-wagons. Many other little novelties and changes attracted our attention; and we musingly passed along until we stood upon the bank of the Wabash River, where stands the pleasant little village of Montezuma. The stream is about two hundred yards wide; and being very deep, we found it necessary to take the ferry. This was something new to us; and as we floated across the stream we imagined ourselves in the Mayflower, plowing the foamy Atlantic, and carrying with us the seeds of life and death. The former we calculated for all who wished us no harm; but the latter we fully meant to spring up in the path of the wild buffalo and the bear. Our imaginary ocean, however, was soon crossed; and having been told by the ferryman that there was a coal-mine up the river a-piece, we determined to visit what we had never before had the opportunity of seeing.

There lay the dark fuel, and here ran the tunnel into the foot of the hill whence came the coal. Of course, wanting to see it all, we determined to explore the thing to our satisfaction. The tunnel being but three feet wide by three and a half high, we were obliged to stoop very low. Onward we went, bold as the lion in his cave, lightly talking of the great dampness and the little car-track that wound its way so far into the bowels of the earth, etc., etc., until we found ourselves about fifty yards from the daylight door. Here a slight caving from the side of the passage caused a panic in a party of three, and for some minutes the bowels of Vesuvius never knew a greater rumbling than was heard in the tunnel of that coal-mine. When the weakest,—who had been trampled into the mud by the stampede,—had once more dragged himself into daylight, we concluded that we knew all about coal-mines, and thought it not necessary to penetrate any more hills to inform ourselves better. Betaking ourselves to the wagon, we once more resumed our journey.

Coming into the splendid city of Indianapolis one bright morning, we were greatly struck with its great life and beauty, and concluded to camp in a pretty grove just back of the great asylum and spend a few days in surveying and acquainting ourselves with the Hoosier capital. The first was reception-day for the horse-traders, who swarmed to us from all directions. They were all good, clever fellows, and offered us a chance to make fifty dollars in a single swap. The boys wanted to trade, but I had conscientious scruples against taking the advantage of such good-hearted, honest fellows, and prevailed on the boys to deal gently with the innocent.

The great clouds of dark smoke that curl from the engines of the thirteen railroads, the deafening sound of the car-bells at train-time, together with a depot that is surpassed in size and magnificence by but one or two in the United States, speak the advantages of this thriving and lovely city. Its court-house is also a model, being one of the finest in the land. Having informed ourselves to our satisfaction, we again pulled out.

The roads having been good and the weather fine, our trip through Indiana was a pleasant one, indeed; but upon our approaching Illinois we found the character of the country materially changed. The large beach-forests began to fade away, and before us, like a great ocean, spread a broad and fertile prairie all covered with richest vegetation. Here, too, the prairie-chickens began to fly, and small game became abundant. This was sport for us, and, with guns in hand, we some days almost veiled the sun with smoke and feathers—especially smoke. From the want of timber, fences became very few and the fields contained many acres. We were compelled to haul our wood, for cooking purposes, for many miles, upon different occasions. In case we forgot to take wood along when we left where it could be had, I shall not attempt to tell you where we got our fuel, but will simply remark that he who passes through Illinois by wagon without pulling middle rails from the fences or tearing down barn-yard gates must certainly have a mighty conscience dictating for him.

There is no gravel here, and the loose, black soil, dampened by the almost incessant rains of this region, render the highways rivers of mud. There were a great many emigrants along the road, bound for a home beyond the Mississippi; and to see them turning their honest faces in all earnestness toward the heavens as if wondering if something had not burst, was truly an affecting sight. Instead of good hard pikes leading into the cities, there are nothing but graded mud-roads; and we saw four horses to a hearse stall in the middle of one of Springfield’s main streets, and in the center of town. A gravel-bank in central Illinois would be a fortune indeed, and by its aid Springfield could be made a most beautiful city. The state-house situated here is an immense structure, covering a great area, and supporting a flag five hundred and thirty-one feet in the air. Flags and military relics of several nations, together with many other curiosities, are kept here for the public view; and persons going this way and having an opportunity, should by all means spend a half-day in going through this great museum. The cost of the building is about ten millions. It is built of stone and is fire-proof. Being rainy, and wood very scarce, we concluded to pitch our tent on the common for the night, and go to the Central Hotel for supper. This was our first meal inside of a house since we started, and dressing ourselves in our long hunting-coats, with great deep pockets in the sides, we were the center of attraction and comment; and we naturally felt inclined to have as much sport upon our side as the landlord and guests were having upon theirs. Accordingly, we sat at a table to ourselves; and having caught the eyes of one of the fair waitresses, we politely marked the bill of fare and began relating some of our great adventures, and Indian and lion fights through which we had dragged our lives by a single hair. And this, with our peculiar expressions and appearances, aroused great curiosity, and whisperings could be heard, “Which is Buffalo Bill?” “They are fierce-looking fellows, ar’n’t they?” After we were served, taking advantage of the good lady as she turned away, with a sort of sleight of hand the roasted potatoes and biscuits found their way to the bottom of the great side pockets, and we called out, “Potatoes and biscuits, please!” Apologizing, and having the good lady believe that we had eaten nothing for some time, we stayed at the table and played our game until the lady grew pale and the great pockets were pulling heavily at our sides. We now remarked that we thought we could wait until morning, and, seizing our great broad-brims, started for camp. The lady, with a sigh of relief, looked after us as if to say, “They must be powerful fellows! A biscuit or potato is no more than a pill to them!” The next day there was a long article in the Springfield paper about three hunters and their mighty capacities.

The street-car track is laid in the center of the street, and between the railing it is planked. Taking this we succeeded in getting through the muddiest city in the world, and arrived in camp safely, well pleased with our supper and the faithful lady. When the city was dead in slumber, and deep darkness hung o’er it, not wishing to disturb any one, we innocently seized a couple of chicken-coops that we found in the back yards, and then did our own cooking. When we were breaking up the coops into firewood down at camp, we were surprised to find a couple of chickens fast in the laths. This made me so mad that I jerked their heads off right then and there. John stood looking on with a troubled gaze, and as they lay there fat and motionless, he said, “Boys, it is too bad to waste those fowls that way; I think we had better cook them.” Well, after considering the hell we might raise by throwing dead chickens over the common in that way, we decided to make a stew. Feathers make very good pillows, you know; and we were very careful to pick up every one. We stored the wood in the wagon, very carefully out of the way, and of course had breakfast very early—for you know how curious people are when persons are going through the country, and how they hang around their camp, especially if they have chickens. To avoid all this we had everything cleaned up at daylight, and then and there made a rule that no person should be permitted to fool around the wagon. That wood and those feathers were hard to get; and one does not know what thieves might be lurking around. In a few days we pulled out, striking north-west for Iowa.

Illinois is a level, rich state, and but for its great rains it would certainly be one of the best as well as the prettiest states in the Union. There is a great deal of corn, and some spring wheat and barley, etc., raised here; but because of the little snow that falls, and the great freezing and thawing of the black, loose soil of this region, fall sowing is not successful. Stock-raising is the principal business of the people, however, and for this the state is particularly adapted. Land back from the cities being usually cheap (from $20 to $40 per acre), most farms are large and improvements limited. Barns and cribs are often but rail-pens, and thousands of bushels of corn lie exposed to the sun, only rounded on top to turn the mighty rains. What a contrast between this careless method of storing away corn, and the careful cribbing and covering by Ohio farmers! The cobs are most all more or less musty, and the grain damaged at the kernel, and we could hardly get corn that our horses would eat. They feed most of it to hogs and cattle. Hedge fences are fast coming in use, and ere long the whole state promises to be thus inclosed.

With a great deal of effort we at length reached the western border of the state. And were I to tell you the true condition of the roads during the greater part of our journey in the state, it would appear incredible; for sometimes the ground, in low places, would shake for ten feet upon either side of the wagon. The surface is often dry, and cracked by the sun, and when you break through that you are stuck; and that is just as sure as the wrath to come. Several times we were in to the axle, and not a rail within five miles. There would have been the place to try old Job; for if he did not curse God and deny all creation after viewing the situation, well might he be called “Job, the patient man.” Being most of the time sick, from the poor water we found in the state, and utterly discouraged with the bottomless roads, it is needless to say that we were glad to get through. The people told us that some winters they found it necessary to take the wheels off and tie soap-kegs to the spindles to skim over the mud. Spring-vehicles are very scarce in the country, and the most delicate society move round in two-horse wagons and on horseback. Roads that we thought were almost impassable they considered good. It is amusing to see a party of young folks out riding, with sometimes four and five couples in one wagon, and boards across the bed for seats. On they go, merry as larks. The wheel runs into a chuck-hole, the board breaks, and like magic the scene is changed, and number ten shoes and striped hose are cutting the air like muskets at the battle of Bull Run. Notwithstanding our good times in hunting and the great hospitality of the people, we had enough of Illinois, and one glorious day we had the pleasure of standing for our first time upon the banks of the mighty Mississippi. Of course, the northern and southern parts of the state are not as low and muddy as the central part herein described; but what has been said will be verified by like experience.

The Mississippi River is a quarter of a mile in width at this place (Keokuk), and is spanned by a powerful iron bridge. We had never seen steamboats, and were much amused by observing them here, moving up and down like ducks upon the water. Like old Daniel Boone, we looked at the blue waters of the rolling stream and longed to tread the beyond. There we once more found ourselves out of the mud, where the hills were covered with beautiful trees, and pure, cool water flowed from the crystal springs.

Traveling only for information, we had no particular route, and for the novelty we crossed the Des Moines River into Missouri, thus eating breakfast in Illinois, dinner in Iowa, and supper in Missouri.

Being told that there were many turkeys and deer in Missouri, we concluded to go south as far as the Missouri River. The northern part of the state is very rough, and well timbered; but as you go south the surface flattens, and many acres are still covered with the same sod and forests that accommodated the wild beast and the savage years ago. It is fast settling up, however, and rude huts are reared in all directions. We were cleverly received in the back country, and never failed to be saluted at every shanty by four or five great hounds. Peeping into the house you will see one lying upon the table, one licking the pots, one washing the baby’s face, and the rest stretched out by the stove,—quite a pleasant sight, indeed.

Visiting Kansas City, the great western emporium, situated at the junction of the Kansas and Missouri rivers, we were much surprised to see the amount of business carried on in what but a few years ago was a vacant plain. There are several large wholesale houses here. Everything is lively, and the business-din can be heard a long way off.

Northern Missouri and Iowa are certainly the best cherry countries in the world; for every little cherry-sprout was bending with the largest and finest fruit. Now, we were all very fond of cherries; and knowing our cherry-capacity better than any other persons,—whom we had not yet visited,—we concluded to buy our fruit on the following terms: Driving up to a place where the trees were red and bending, we tried our best to look like gentlemen,—I mean fellows who look as though they would take a cherry between thumb and finger, and, after rubbing it with a silk handkerchief, put it in the mouth, squeeze it with the tongue, spit out the seed, etc. We then asked the owner what he would charge us apiece for permission to eat a few cherries from the trees. I suppose we must have succeeded pretty well in our trial to appear delicate, for we bargained generally for five cents apiece; and, mighty Lord! when we perched ourselves in the branches and began, the money did not pay the cherry-man for the time he and his family wasted in watching us, besides the cherries that our sort of gentlemen could and did eat. We never went over the same road twice; but I suppose they do not sell cherries on the tree along there any more.

Going north from Kansas City, we again took the Des Moines River Valley, and went for the capital of Iowa. We were raised in a pretty country, and we passed through some on our journey; but this lovely valley, about two miles wide and of the very richest soil, spreading out level as a floor and covered with rich, golden grain, the dwellings here and there all surrounded with trees loaded with beautiful fruit, divided by the Des Moines, rolling between banks all skirted with mighty sycamores, is certainly an Eden to behold.

Coming into Des Moines, we found a pretty city, with nice, broad streets, but no gravel. It is situated on both sides of the stream, and all the water is forced from Coon River. There is not a well in the town. The new state-house had been worked at six years, and it would require about four or five more to finish it. It is seven hundred feet long, and when finished will certainly be a grand structure. It is being built of stone, and its cost is approximated at five millions of dollars.

Leaving the valley and striking west for Council Bluffs, we opened into a wild country, and for the first time realized that we were leaving civilization behind. The broad forest had entirely faded away, and the surface that had begun to wave at the great river-bank had now become very rough, and the steel of the husbandman had not yet pierced the aged sod. A broad, open land stretched out before us, like a sea whose waters were tossed by a mighty wind, and marked only by the dim trails that led from one to the other of the distant little sod domiciles. Great herds of cattle may be seen upon the hill-sides of this rich pasture-land, and large flocks of sheep are bleating in the valleys. The country being very rough, there is very little farming done; and a fence is a novelty. Herders are employed upon these conditions: They are to take care of the cattle on the prairie for four months, salt them, and stand all losses,—unless the brand of the missing animal can be produced,—and while boarding themselves they receive one dollar and twenty-five cents per head; and often having five and six hundred head together, there is money in it; and a number of young men find employment here.

It was only with great effort that we found our way over the rough prairie and unbridged streams, in which we often stuck. The country looks as if God had carefully made the hills to order, and then fitted them together as closely as he could; and heavy rains falling here all run down the hills into the valleys, which are usually very soft, and many times the water stands very deep in them. There was one time (and which I shall not soon forget) that we came to a slough about fifty yards wide. We could tell by its look that it was a bad crossing, and as far as we could see either way, it appeared the same. So, seeing several old wagon tracks through it, we pushed in. Starting in lively, we managed to get about half way, when the wagon was in to the hub and the mud so stiff that the horses could get no further. There we were in the middle of a slough between the hills of Iowa, and the prospect of our being anywhere else for some time about as limited as a boy’s show for victory in a fight with a red-headed school-marm. You may all talk of wisdom, but I will bet a million if Solomon himself had been there, he would have stood out upon the bank and said, “Boys, you are in a worse fix than five hundred wives have ever been able to put me.” But after about exhausting our ingenuity, we at length unhitched our horses and took them across. Tying a long rope to the end of the tongue, we hitched the team to it and pulled the wagon on a lock. Unluckily for me, I had the appearance of being the best wheel-horse in the crowd; and though I coughed and told the boys that getting into the mud and over exerting myself would certainly be the cause of my death, they still insisted. Just then finding that they too were consumptive, and limping with pain in every joint, I consented to take my chances; and after preparing for the occasion like any person would in such circumstances, where clothes were scarce and no one near, I waded into the doughy sea. I held the wheel from going back, while Johnny pulled the wagon on a lock on my side. I would then draw myself up out of the mud, take a few long breaths, and after touching up my will-power with a little Iowa bog-sirup that we had along, go to the other side. We worked thus from left to right, moving a foot at a time; and at length, when the bottle could have been broken without wasting much sirup, we once more stood upon terra firma. We had often heard of the valley of the shadow of death, and right then and there concluded that if that was not it, it must be a fork of it, and if we found that it reached from the north to the south, we would go by the way of the gulf on our return. However, after washing our horses all over, and trimming ourselves up to once more look like white men, we felt a little more experienced and none the worse. We were about ready to start again when we caught sight of a middle-aged Dutch-woman, with two little mules to a spring-wagon, and a great coop of chickens, bearing down the hill-side to the same mud-hole. Willing to lend our experience, especially to a lady, we most politely spoke to her; but she paid no more attention than if a prairie-dog had barked at the road-side. Well, thought we, it is a nice thing to be independent; but that mud-hole may bother you some, and may be the means of our becoming intimately acquainted. Sure enough, when she got to about where we stuck, the little mules gave out and one of them lay down. You may all talk of whoops and halloos, but the yell of the rebels, the groans of the dying, and the thundering of the cannon at the battle of Stone River, were not to be compared to the shouts of that Dutch-woman in the midst of the Iowa bog. Nevertheless, neither the angry countenance nor the force of the brawny arm had any effect upon the little mule, which, like Job, had determined to take it patiently. If you could have seen the unearthly smile upon her face as she looked back to us and yelled, “Coom,” you would have been surprised at the great change one mud-hole and one Dutch-woman can bring about. Wading in to where the little Job lay prostrate, I took hold of his bridle and gave him a kick in the ribs and an English yell; and doubtless never having heard an English word in his life, it apparently frightened him so that he forgot all about the mud-hole. The last we saw of the Dutch-woman she was going over the brow of a hill, sitting upon the back of her neck, screaming in the key of E, the old chicken-coop tossing, the chickens squalling, and the little mules down to a mile a minute. If it had not been for that ugly bog to cross we would have looked after that outfit; for the way that coop was bobbing it might have fallen out, and the poor chickens would have starved, for she never could stop the mules; and you know if we had found them we would have fed them. This was one more lesson of experience, and we started on.

A few hours’ travel brought us into the little village of Lewis; and the next day being the Fourth of July, we concluded to stay over and have some fun. We enjoyed ourselves very well; and as the end of the gala day drew nigh, people found that we were travelers and gathered around us to trade horses. Well, we had one horse that wanted to stop very often when we were in a great hurry, and having given us a great deal of trouble, we concluded to cheat somebody to get even with Iowa any how. Of course we showed quite an unwillingness to trade; but when a fellow brought a fine young-looking horse around and warranted him safe and sound, and to work any place, we traded, thinking there was no harm in cheating a man when he proposed the trade. We swapped even, and he throwing a saddle upon his new horse was soon out of sight. Proudly we buckled the harness upon ours, and everything being ready I drew up the lines to start, when behold! like the wife of Lot, his action had all vanished and he stood as immovable as Pike’s Peak. He was worse than the other one, for she would go when the wagon was started, but this one refused to go if you just stood him before the wagon without harness on. Then we pulled the wagon out of town with one horse and camped for the night. Of course we got him with a warranty, but where in the thunder was the warrantor? All had vanished. Many persons came around with old plugs, thinking that of course we would trade for anything that would pull. We told them he was the kind of a horse we wanted, and in the morning we would show them something.

Morning came, and putting the harness on him we put up the traces and tied his tail to the single-tree, when, to the surprise of all, he started off, pulling the whole wagon, the other horse, and all. The horse-traders swore the like was never seen in Iowa; and they looked after us with wonder until we were over the hill. We were delighted with our success, and all went along smoothly until we got about five miles from town and came to a bridge where the dirt was washed away from each side; and the wheel striking this, he balked on the tail. We knew he had good shoulders, and he had shown us that he had a noble tail; and to refuse to use either was an insult to us, and we set about to use compulsion. It was not long, however, before the tongue was cracked and both single-trees broken, and the battle just begun. John went back to town to get the breaks mended, and Johnny and myself set to work in earnest. We had used kind words and coaxed him, all to no purpose; for as long as you were friendly he was as gentle as a lamb, but as soon as you wanted to make him work he considered our friendship at an end. So we took him from the wagon and tied up one foot and put on throw-ropes and hitched him to a bush. Of course he refused to go, and every time he refused we pulled him down. When he pulled one bush, we put on another. We had seen bad horses, and we had heard of the devil, and we concluded that he was one fourth bad horse and three fourths devil. We worked hard until late in the afternoon before he would pull his part of the spring-wagon. Just as he was beginning to work two men came along, going east. They had a good two-horse wagon, and we traded. We now had a good, stout wagon, and the next morning, after a little squabble, we had no more trouble, and the buckskin mustang was conquered. Our experience was such as to make us tired of Iowa, and after determining never to cheat another western man out of a horse, even if he did name his own terms, we rapidly pushed on until we stood in the streets of Council Bluffs. This is a neat, pretty little town, located near the bank of the great Missouri, and among the bluffs that rise mountain high. It received its name from the council held there in the year 1804 by Lewis and Clark, United States explorers, to decide upon the best method of avoiding the Indian dangers. Having wended our way down to the river-side, we stood upon the bank of the muddiest stream that washes the soil of the Union. There being no wagon-bridge here, we were obliged to take passage to the opposite bank upon the train and over the great railroad bridge, which the Indian chief said looked like a “much big spider-web.”

CHAPTER II.