sive provisions, for the sake of harmony, in the spirit of the compromise: all would then have been well, and a great deal of time, trouble and anxiety saved. We totally reject the idea that any thing which it is the business of congress to do, should be left to the judiciary or any other power. With due deference to the eminent gentleman who proposed it, we regret that he did it; for had his plan been adopted, who can tell where the precedent would have stopped? But we think it more strange that, because Missouri was empowered to make a constitution, it should be argued that congress was bound to accept it. Why, then, are constitutions offered, referred to committees, and sanctioned by both houses? All this is mere mummery, if they are to be accepted at any rate as contended for by some of the members. No one wishes harm to the people of Missouri - they are of our own kindred and lineage; they may have urged their claims imprudently, and, in our belief, have mistaken their true interests - but they have a right to judge for themselves; and if that judgment is repugnant to the general opinion or principle on the matter, they will yield it, we trust, to the law, and respect the majority.

We had written thus far when we first saw the resolution offered by Mr. Eustis, in the house of representatives, on Tuesday last . . . precisely meets our wishes, so far as it goes, and may accomplish all that either party is really just now disposed to contend for. The antirestriction members, as well as others, regretted the existence of certain clauses in the constitution of Missouri, as unnecessary, and calculated only to create doubts and excite opposition. Let them be expunged by the unanimous voice of congress, and then we shall hope for an obliteration of the feelings which this unfortunate controversy has given birth to, and that all will be willing to disavow sectional interests within the body of the republic; the peace and p[r]osperity of which can only be maintained by a spirit of forbearance and moderation:—and, if we must differ in opinion, let us differ like rational beings, and grant to others the rights which we assume for ourselves, always recollecting that the fairly expressed will of the majority must govern.

H[ezekiah] Niles, editor, Niles' Weekly Register, December 23, 1820 (Baltimore), XIX, 265-266.

CHAPTER XXI-THE GREAT WEST

137. Voyage down the Ohio (1808)

BY HENRY M. BRACKENRIDGE (1834)

Brackenridge was the son of Hugh H. Brackenridge (see No. 70 above). He studied law and became a prominent jurist, first as a district judge in Louisiana, and afterwards as a United States judge in Florida. His later life was devoted to literature. - Bibliography: James H. Perkins, Annals of the West, xviii-xx.

'ITH the reader's permission, I will now change the scene to the banks of the Monongahela at Pittsburgh-time, a fine morning in April. The shore is lined with the various kinds of keels, flat bottoms, or arks, of all the sizes and forms used in the growing trade of the west, and a bustling set of people playing different parts; but no Leviathan steamboats are seen proudly asserting their conquest over the western waters. The object to which our attention will be more immediately attracted, is a keel about ten or fifteen tons burthen, with a sort of deck at each end, affording a cabin sufficiently roomy for two men to lie under by coiling themselves up. Both bow and stern were pointed alike, and distinguished only by the bow rope on the one, and the long tail of a steering oar on the other. The open space amid ships, was occupied by barrels, bales and castings, part on freight, and part owned by the captain, as he of the steering oar is usually denominated. The captain, a swarthy, ill looking man of forty, inclining to fat, dressed in a leathern doublet, blue broadcloth pantaloons, and Suwarrow boots, gave the word to push off, which was promptly obeyed by Ralph Higginbotham, son of the 'Squire' up the Monongahela, (so justices of the peace are styled in Pennsylvania) and Bill Hulings, neither the first nor the last of the boatmen.' It might be easily seen, that this was the first voyage of Ralph, a well-set, broad-shouldered little fellow, with watch in fob, and dressed in home-made cloth, cut out and made up by his good mother, in burlesque of the mode which had prevailed in town a few years before. As this was a voyage of experience, to whet his faculties, so that he might take the management of a boat himself in due time,

he was to work his passage; which was not the case with Bill, in his tow shirt and trowsers, and handkerchief on his head, who had performed many such voyages, and who, in consequence, now appointed himself captain of the forecastle, seized a pole, bade Ralph do the same, and in a moment the boat was adrift in the current. . . .

The river was in fine order for navigation; the sky unclouded blue ; winter had passed off, and 'recalled his ruffian blasts,' yet the forests still appeared naked and leafless. As we glided swiftly along, my companion, to whom every thing was new and striking, amused me by his remarks, while I endeavoured to catch some recollection of my first voyage; but excepting Legionville, the camp of General Wayne in 1792, I saw nothing I could remember. In place of the interminable wilderness, cultivated spots, cottages and farms, pleasantly situated, frequently attracted our attention. Not thinking it prudent, in this part of the river to float during the night, it was resolved to encamp; which was accordingly done, and fire kindled in order to prepare our evening meal. . . .

Before the dawn of day the boat was again adrift, and before evening we reached the town of Wheeling. The intermediate space between this place and Pittsburgh will long continue to be the wildest and rudest part of the Ohio. The hills are high and steep, the river bottom comparatively narrow, and the river itself rapid and tortuous. . . .

From Wheeling, the river and its borders undergo an almost instantaneous change. The hills rapidly subside, the flat lands become wider, the current of the river more gentle and regular, and cultivation smiles on its banks. Peace, civilization, and the cheerful sound of the human voice, have taken the place of the frightful savage wilderness, of the nightly howling of the wolf, and the mid-day terrors of the Indian scalping knife. . . .

The borders of the river had already put on the livery of Robin Hood before we arrived at Marietta, a pretty town, situated on a point at the mouth of the Muskingum; and at this time one of the most important on the Ohio. It was a handsome town when I first saw it, but it had much improved both in the style and number of its buildings. Some ten or twelve miles below this, we came in sight of the island of Blennerhasset. There was a blue mist upon the waters and on the land, softening the scene into the most mellow landscape, but either bank of the river was destitute of any striking natural objects, there being neither rocks nor hills: the giant sycamore and sugar trees may be considered

exceptions to my remark. The island and its embellishments were seen to the greatest advantage. The clean, naked, pebbly beach divided the stream in nearly equal parts; and beyond it the elegant mansion, painted white, was half hidden among the trees, partly native, which had submitted to the hand of art, and partly exotic, such as the Lombardy poplar and weeping willow. The large gateway and the tasteful shrubbery heightened the scene, looking like what the islands of the Ohio may be a century hence. It looked more like a vision of the future, than a real landscape in the yet infant west. Such improvements are too far in advance of the state of society; they are costly to the owner, because they add nothing to the intrinsic value, and wealth is yet too scarce to pay so high for the gratifications of taste and the love of elegance. The fifty thousand dollars expended on this property, would not have produced more than two or three thousand on the sale of it, unless by mere accident some other person of wealth happened to come, who was possessed of the same fancy, and was equally regardless of calculation. It was said by a witness, on the trial of Burr, who was questioned as to the character of Blennerhasset, that he had every kind of sense but common sense.' The remark is true so far, that he had not directed his attention sufficiently to the business of common life; and having formed his habits in a country which had already attained the highest degree of advancement in social polish and refinement, with aristocratic feelings at war with his democratic opinions, he did not correctly estimate the difference of places and persons. The unfortunate family had left the place where they had passed several years in pursuit of happiness by embellishing nature, having been disappointed in finding it in the taste and polish and refinement of society, at least in accordance with their notions and preconceived opinions. . . . The situation of the accomplished pair was not that of Adam and Eve in Paradise, nor was Burr a Satan as to them. He found them discontented; unpleasant feelings had been experienced by them, and disappointment had ensued. The error was in their own minds; in their preconceived notions of the people and country of America, and in their uncongenial habits and ideas. . .

...

The next morning we passed Letart's Falls, having passed several villages during the night, and also some considerable streams, and among others, that one which bears

'The name so shocking

Of Hock-Hock-Hocking.'

As this was the Sabbath, the banks, chiefly on the Ohio side, were alive with people going to or returning from places of worship, or seated in groups in their best apparel. On the Virginia side, instead of seeing dwellings, we saw occasionally houses of more ambitious structure, but unfinished, and already showing marks of decay; while much of the river bottoms was still unimproved. What a contrast with the uninhabited banks of the beautiful river, when I first saw them! When the howl of the wolf, or the hooting of the owl were enough to strike terror into the heart of the voyager, fearing that these might be the telegraphic sounds of Indians preparing to attack him. . . .

. . . It will be expected . . . that I should take some notice of Cincinnati, which, thirteen years before, was covered with the native forest, excepting the space occupied by a rude encampment. I now found it a beautiful little city, in the midst of a highly cultivated country. I went up to the market, which I found equal in goodness to that of Philadelphia, but much cheaper. A turkey may be had for sixteen cents; and, if thought too high, a goose will be offered into the bargain. The wonderful and almost magical change which had taken place here gave me pleasure; for there were no objects which, as at Gallipolis, were associated with the deep impressions made on my boyish mind. Louisville had also become a handsome town; and thus far the curtain of the wilderness may be said to have been lifted up; but, further down, the Ohio was still the abode of solitude and gloom.

I will describe a phenomenon which we beheld a few days after leaving Louisville, but which, I fear, will tax the credulity of the reader. It was not a sea serpent, but something almost as difficult to believe. In a part of the river where the vision extended at least ten miles down, after day break (weather rainy the night before, and then drizzling), the whole heavens, to the edge of the horizon, were covered and concealed by a flight of wild pigeons, and remained so for upwards of two hours, until we reached the lower part of the long view. During the whole of the day immense flocks continued to pass. According to my computation, the principal flock was at least (if we allow a mile a minute to the flight of the pigeon), ten miles in width, by one hundred and twenty in length! If each pigeon occupied one foot square, there will be sufficient data to compute the number of the whole. I leave the matter in the hands of the schoolmaster, who may give it as an exercise to his scholars.

The captain stopped at the mouth of the Wabash, where he expected