# The Knickerbocker Gallery/Rambles in the Far West

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Yours Ever Edwar. P. Mitchell
Rambles in the "far West."
By Ralph Roanoke.
In 1820, Missouri was the "far West," and Independence the boundary of civilization. Now, in 1854, there is no "far West." It has been crowded overboard into the Pacific Ocean.
Formerly, the hardy pioneer, impatient of the restraints of society, and fired with the spirit of adventure, plunged into the wilds of the West in search of happiness on his own hook. He had no fear of a civilization which was travelling at a snail's pace to elbow him out of his quiet home; neither did he recognize in himself its champion, bearing the standard of empire westward. But now that rampant spirit of go-ahead-ativeness which is knocking at the doors of Congress for an appropriation to have our gold-diggers rode on a rail is daily gaining strength, and will soon make itself heard. The settlements which, under the present hot haste to make fortunes, are to spring up and bridge over our vast western domain will wear a new and widely different aspect. Pioneer life and pioneer progress must soon pass away for ever, to be remembered only in story.
If the traveller of the present day takes no note of the changes, leaves no foot-prints upon the sands of time, future generations will utterly fail to appreciate from what beginnings and under what auspices the great western cities have sprung into existence. They may even imagine that, like Minerva, they sprang from the front of those grand prairies, and from the banks of those mighty rivers, ready paved with cubical blocks of granite and brilliantly lighted with gas.
Perhaps no era in American history has been more fruitful in the birth of what are destined to become genuine cities, or so prolific in ​spurious abortions, as that period of which, as Captain Cuttle would say, I am about "to make a note." In the year 1837 the spirit of speculation in "town sites" along the banks of the western rivers, and in the large prairies of Illinois and Missouri was running riot throughout the United States. Golden harvests of profit were mathematically demonstrated on well-drawn and highly-colored maps, and enticingly offered to those who wanted to turn a quick and safe penny. Cautious and plodding citizens wore tempted out of their ordinary occupations and six per cent investments into the whirlpool of chance. Even worthy pastors were known to dabble in "town sites," doubtless with the hope of eking out their scanty salaries by a large advance upon a small investment. The East was In a state of fermentation, and the West was teeming with land speculators, plotting and counterplotting to establish eligible localities. Well would it have been for many who ventured into such speculations had they been blessed with bumps of caution sufficiently large to suggest the propriety of a personal visit to that land of milk and honey. For seldom, if ever, has there been a more nefarious scheme set on foot to rob the credulous and unwary of their hard earnings than the sale of town lots in embryo cities, made attractive on well-painted plots. Often must the traveller on those western rivers sigh over the many disappointed hopes indicated by the skeleton frames of homes imported from the East, dropped here and there on "corner lots," and left deserted in their glory to commemorate the folly of their deeply-deceived owners.
A sadder picture could scarcely he imagined than one of those "town sites," in the centre of which might be seen a miserable hut, giving the only presumptive evidence that a human being had ever dwelt there. Looking deeper into the middle-ground in search of him who called it home, anxious to find whether he was an object of pity, as all around indicated, the weary eye finally rested upon a few overgrown mounds and a freshly-made grave, the silent yet speaking interpreters of the landscape. The damp chills of the night and the poisonous miasma of the swamps had engendered fevers, and life, unaided by comforts and unsupported by sympathy, had yielded its spirit a victim to misplaced confidence.
​In imagination I could perceive these squatter ghosts waiting in solemn silence for the darkness of night to assemble together to howl away its gloom in deep lamentations over the loss of their money; or, like a tribe of witches, to stir up their boiling cauldron with direful incantations, over and anon sending forth horrific nightmares to drive away sweet and balmy slumber from the eyelids of the "land speculators" who had seduced them from their peaceful and happy homes in the East, to try their fortunes in the West.
It was during the height of this town-making mania that I chanced to be making a tour throughout the West. To one who is fond of the study of humanity in all its various phases, such an era and such a field of observation affords an infinite variety of amusement and instruction. I not only obtained an insight into pioneer life, and the modus operandi of land-speculators, but also had the rare good for tune to make the discovery that a weasel can be caught asleep.
But while I enter my protest against that nefarious scheme of town-making, I most cheerfully give my testimony in favor of the local advantages and flourishing prospects of the town of Glasgow, in the State of Missouri. I came in sight of this embryo city just as the last rays of the setting sun were illuminating the slope of the hill on which it is located. Although but three months old, it had its tavern, its store, its blacksmith-shop, and many other signs of prospority. Onward was written on its first page; and to sum up my impressions in a sentence, I mentally admitted it must flourish.
I have said Glasgow had its house of entertainment. This was true. But it was not to be recognized by any of those outward signs which ordinarily hang dangling before the door, doling out some favorite ditty of the passing breeze. Looking around me as I entered the town by the main road, and riding into the centre of an open square which was marked out by the houses on the four corners, I saluted a good-natured, broad-mouthed, honest-looking old darkie with
"How dy, uncle: is this the town of Glasgow?"
"Yes, Massa, dis am he."
"Thank you, uncle; which is the best hotel"
"Yah! yah! yah! what dat you say, Massa? Which am de best hotel?"
​"Yes, where would you recommend me to stop?"
"Why, see here, Massa, just take a correspontal view of dem primsis, and den ax dis niggar which am de best hotel? We don't got no hotel in dis town. You call dat house a hotel! Yah! yah! yah!"
"Well, but uncle, you do n't mean to say you have no hotel?"
"Yes, I does mean to make dat statement for a solemn fac'. Massa, do you tink I do n't know what am a hotel? I do n't come from old Ferginy for nothin'. White folks can't fool dis child. Whar 's de Gen'l Washington? Whar's de Gen'l Jackson? Talk about a hotel whar you do n't see none ob dem great gemmen hangin' up fore de door!"
I soon discovered that my old colored friend was somewhat facetious, and prided himself upon once having lived in Old Virginia, where the "Mansion House" was honored by the "Father of his Country," or the "Hero of New-Orleans" to watch over it in all kinds of weather. Returning to the charge with,
"Well, uncle, I see you were not brought up among 'poor white folks,' so here is a picayune for you to drink the health of
Now tell me where can I get accommodations for the night?"
Unluckily for me, this last speech touched a chord deep down in the old man's heart, and instead of giving me an answer, his memory was wandering back to happier days. He seemed determined to overwhelm me with questions in turn.
"O lossey Massa, I'aint hearn dem delishus words since dese twenty years. Oh! where did you come from? Did you ever see my boy, Jim Sampson? O Jim! Jim! you could wait on de gemmen! You could make de boots shine like two puter-dollars stuck in a mud-hole! O Jim! if de old man could just see him once more 'fore he dies!
I was loth to break the old man's soliloquy. It was so natural, unaffected, deep, and touching—and, alas! what a comment upon ​the human affections! But it was now night; and cold, and hungry, I could not wait for his assistance. I therefore rode up to a house on the brow of the hill and inquired of a woman standing at the door:
"Madam, will you please direct me to a house of entertainment?"
"We take in strangers," was her ominous reply.
"Thanks, madam, thanks! I am very tired and hungry, and would like an early supper."
I soon dismounted and took the first opportunity to survey the premises, It was a log cabin, built two stories high, with but two rooms, one above and one below. It stood on the slope of the hill, with the lower side to the street. On the upper side was a small addition, made by driving four posts in the ground and fastening thereto, by means of wooden pins, huge slabs of boards sawed out from butts of trees, and placed at such a distance apart as to admit air and light. This addition was the great convenience of the premises. It served for kitchen, smoke-house, larder, pantry, wash-house ; in fact for every thing but the entertainment of strangers, The first floor of the main building was filled quite full of chairs, tables, and cupboards, in which the nicely-wiped crockery was tastefully displayed. In one corner of the room was a bed, which, from its cozy, home look, I took to be the resting-place of the master and mistress of the premises. The darkness of the room prevented my making any further observations as to the upper story, except to see that those bound upward had to climb a small, narrow, rickety ladder that stood in one corner.
There was nothing peculiar about the host and hostess except a glaring disparity in their ages, the lady looking as if she might be more readily taken for daughter than wife. Still there was a robust vigor about the man which might readily encourage a widower in a new country to venture a second wife rather than undergo the ills of solitude, Beside, some how or other, in all new countries, the male animal being in reality a kind of monarch of all he surveys, has a wonderful propensity to be waited upon, and the last act of benevolence he would be likely to be guilty of would be to allow any young lady to live without a master while he could officiate in that capacity. ​The old man and I chatted, while the young wife prepared the supper, which, in the West, especially with travellers, is a hearty meal, the rule being to eat but twice a day, Consequently, the preparation for supper was no small affair. There was evidently, however, a shyness and reserve about him, which I did not at first exactly comprehend. Subsequent experience would have enlightened me on that subject at once, but it was some time before I discovered that he had a great dread of "land speculators," and suspected me for being one of those much-dreaded animals, so unpopular in all new countries, I was not ignorant of the great curiosity of all mankind, and particularly of those removed from much society, and I might have adopted Franklin's plan of telling him my name, business, and residence if I had not taken peculiar pleasure in watching his plan of attack to unravel the mystery of my appearance in "those parts." Beside, it was as pleasant a way as any to beguile the time before supper.
"Well, stranger," said he, "if I may make so bold, what might your name be?"
"Not bold at all," replied I, "but a very natural question indeed, Sir. My opinion is that Glasgow will some day become a very large and flourishing city. By the way, can you tell me, Sir, is there much land about here to be had at government price?"
"Why you see," continued he, "my business of intertainin' travellers is not very agreeable. I git many a customer that don't look fit to be trusted with a night's lodgin';" and, glancing above the door with a sort of blood-or-money expression to see that his never-failing rifle was there, continued; "but you see I keep a close watch on 'em, and if any 'scapes me they 're welcome to all they git."
"Indeed," said I, "I should think from your phrenological developments that you were a very benevolent man, and I have no doubt that as you have lived in this country for many years, and know all about the lands, that you would take great pleasure in pointing out to a stranger such as are vacant."
"Well," rejoined he, "I should think you came from Kentuck. There 's a great many land-hunters from Kentuck and Virginy looking about Howard county, and I do n't see what for, nuther. There's many counties just above this where land is much better and plentier."
​A slight interruption to our game of dodge and gammon occurred here, by the entrance of the wife to ask the old man whether the stranger would have to coffee. To which I volunteered an answer:
"Thank you, Madam; you are very kind. I will take tea."
Looking somewhat confused, she stammered out: "I am sorry we have no tea in the house; it's just out."
"No matter," said I; "either will do."
But, as if a new thought had struck her, she continued:
"O Sir, if you would like tea, John can get some down at the store. We are very well fixed now; we can get sugar, and coffee, and tea, and molasses, and nails, and spades, and axes, and almost any of the luxuries of life."
I replied:
"Madam, I dislike to give your good husband any trouble, but if he could procure me a cup of tea, it would really be a very great favor, I so seldom most with such good society where one can get a nice cup of tea."
This last compliment was irresistible, and nolens volens, John Williams was despatched for tea. This afforded me a for moments' conversation with the kind-hearted wife, who confidingly told me that her husband, Mr. John Williams, was a very clever man. It was true he had some strange ways about him, but after all, when he was n't crossed in his humor he was very kind. A pause in the conversation gave me an opportunity to observe her more slowly, and I saw clearly that there was something on her mind which she would like to communicate, and I frankly said:
"Madam, excuse the liberty, but if I am not mistaken you have some question to ask me, and it will afford me great pleasure to serve you if in my power. Is it not so?"
"Yes, Sir," she replied, but I am sure you will excuse me when I tell you that my husband is a poor man, and is saving up money to buy a piece of land just across the river, which he is afraid every day will be entered by some of those 'land-hunters,' and he has no peace оf his life. Now, Sir, I hope you don't intend to enter it. Do you, Sir?"
"Give yourself no more uneasiness on that account, my dear ​Madam; I assure you I am not a land-hunter, and have not the slightest intention of buying a foot of ground in the country."
No one but a married man can appreciate the sunny smile of triumph which this good woman could not conceal as she thought of the pleasure she had in store for the old man. Just as he returned with the tea, in stalked another stranger, who seated himself con amore. The old man and I did not resume our game of attack and defense. It was easy to see that his wife had whispered something in his ear, and that his suspicions were transferred from me to the new-comer. The stranger was "the observed of all observers." I acknowledge to some slight curiosity to see who was to be my companion for the night, not doubting that if any number short of a dozen were to arrive, they would all be bundled together in the same bed. The good wife had a very proper curiosity to scan his dimensions with a view to ascertain how much additional provender to prepare; and the old man, ever ready to discover his mortal foe—a land-hunter—in every traveller, came down upon him with a fixed stare that would have disconcerted any body but an Irishman or a Yankee pedlar.
The object of our scrutiny was a tall, round-shouldered, hatchet-faced individual, with that lignum-vitæ complexion which would keep one guessing till doomsday, whether he was just thirty-five years old last thanksgiving day, or would be fifty the next. At a glance you would feel in doubt whether he was a rough son of West-Tennessee, or a 'cute one in disguise from the land of pumpkin-pies and steady habits; but one word uttered, and the doubt was at once dispelled. However, let him speak for himself.
"Wall, I reckon as how I'm just in the nick of time, and no mistake. Them are pork stakes a-fryin' out there wake up one's innards at such a 'tarnal rate that I'm almighty skeared least the old woman should do up a short allowance. I say, landlord, I've a notion this is a-growin' up to be a smart sort of a town. How would a lot of notions take among ye? I'm not partic'lar. I'll swap for any thing. Would n't mind locatin' somewhere in these parts."
And so he might have run on until his mouth was filled with a piece of the fat pork which he had scented out so sagaciously, if the old man had not given him very strong indications of displeasure and ​astonishment at his nonchalance. When it is remembered that our new-comer had brought with him no visible responsibilities in the shape of a horse, wagon, or pair of saddle-bags, and that his garments had seen many rent-days, the old man's indignation may be readily conceived and appreciated, as he asked in a sharp tone:
"Have you any business with me, Sir?"
The Yankee replied:
"Wall, now, I rather guess I have. I hope I hain't made no mistake nor nothin'. I inquired of that woolly-headed chap what set me over the river a spell ago, where I'd find a night's lodgin', and he p'inted right straight here, old dad, and no mistake, and I walked right in and made myself to hum."
"Yes," said the old man; "I think you do make yourself at home with a vengeance."
The Yankee rejoined:
"Now, old gentleman, I just begin to see how it is. I'm all the way from down-east, and I'm rather green out here, but not quite so green as a drake's neck. If you've any notion that I can't fork down the dust, I rather guess you 're a little bit out of your latitude."
The old man looked at me, and I could see he felt that he had gone rather too far, and, in judging too much by appearances, had not manifested his usual discretion. I answered his inquiring glance by an indication that I thought our Yankee was all right, and the old man was greatly relieved by a summons "to walk up to the supper-table, and be seated."
Who that has ever been really hungry from exposure and violent exercise, can fail in his imagination to see the warm fumes rise up from a large pewter platter of fried pork, and as he scents the delicious odor, congratulate our small party on the bounties before them? Down we sat and fell to work in right good earnest. For a few moments there was a truce to conversation—to the etiquette of asking your next neighbor if you might have the pleasure of helping him to this nice bit of lean, or that laughing potato. Even our Yankee was metamorphosed into a man of deeds, and not of words, he having hardly waited for the common announcement by the landlady, "Now all turn to and help yourselves."
​How lamentable has been his lot who has been reared in the lap of luxury, and never known the ecstasy of appeasing an honest, healthy appetite! Now would I give a guinea if Miss Bremer had been present to see our Yankee eat. Reader, how many times do you think he would have asked her to take "pickles?" Thanks to the good landlady, she had a whole hog to cater from; and as fast as a platter-fall was demolished, another rose up piping hot in its place, until I began to doubt whether my friend, the Yankee, had ever eaten a meal before in his life, or whether he might not have the faculty, among his other thrifty habits, of imitating the Pelican in stowing away provisions for a rainy day.
But as all sublunary things must have an end, so it was with our supper. After a hearty meal over the warm fire, the traveller is soon wandering in the land of Nod, and seldom adds much to the stock of information, as the family group sit chatting around the huge fireplace where whole trees are made food for the devouring flames.
It was evidently the desire of the old man to extract the Yankee's history in a social chat after tea; but either the Yankee was mum, when no more was to be made, or he was holding an indignation meeting within himself on account of his previous treatment. Certain it was, that, with the question of "Where am I to lay to-night?" he left us to enjoy ourselves as we best could without even a passing good-night. Well do I remember how he dragged himself up the rickety ladder in the corner; and as he went, I mentally exclaimed: "Well, my good fellow, peace be to the manes of the fat porker who sleeps with you to-night! May you dwell in harmony together!"
The old man pressed me for my opinion of his lodger, intimating that he did not half like his looks, and would n't wonder if he was in search of land, adding that he had always made it a point to know all about his guests before they passed a night under his roof, but this fellow would give him no satisfaction. The more he thought of it, the more indignant he grew, and, but for me, would have gone up after him to demand an explanation.
But I told him I had no doubt he would turn out a good enough fellow in his way, and after a good night's rest would grow more communicative. The old man shook his head, expressive of his great ​doubts, and by this time the good wife had put every thing to rights for the night. Sleep soon began to wait upon me, and, bidding them good-night, I clambered up the ladder with a small tin saucer, half-filled with lard, in which a bit of wick, lighted at one end, floated quite cozily.
On reaching the upper room, I could discern, by this dull light, that it was the same size as the one below, and had a bed in each corner. To have a whole bed to myself was a most unexpected luxury. My worthy friend, the Yankee, had, by accident, taken possession of the bed in the corner immediately over the one in the lower room, which was occupied by the landlord and his wife, and was sound asleep, giving evidence that my orisons for his good night's rest were being realized. I must here explain, that, owing to a scarcity of flooring plank, the floor upon which we were sleeping was not entirely laid. The legs of the four bed-posts next to the walls were left to rest upon one single plank, leaving all the space under the beds open and communicating with the room below. The inner legs of the bed-posts rested upon other planks, and that portion of the floor which was in sight between the beds was all properly laid, except that they were not nailed down, and made an ominous creaking as I walked over them to choose my lodging-place, which I instinctively took as far from the Yankee as possible. Now, this vacuum under our beds was not known to either of us when we went to bed, and we laid down in our respective places, unconscious of any lurking danger beneath us. Fatigue is a great promoter of sound sleep; and I should, doubtless, have remained quietly in the arms of Morpheus until morning, had I not been aroused by the sound of a human voice, apparently in great agony. Having gone to bed, fully impressed with the idea of a catastrophe in that quarter, I asked, half-asleep and half-awake:
"Who is making that noise? Is it the Yankee, or the pig?"
To which I received no other answer than another groan. Rising up upon my elbow, I listened and soon discovered that the noise proceeded from the bed of the Yankee, and immediately sung out:
"My dear fellow, what's the matter?"
But my question seemed to have no other effect than to increase ​the rapidity of the Yankee’s utterance, as he continued soliloquizing his nightmare:
"O Jerusalem! Jerusalem! this beats all natur', Aunt Jemima, what shall I do?"
Jumping up in my bed, I cried out loud enough to alarm the house:
"Hello there! are you mad or dreaming? What's all that infernal noise about? Are you going to die with the' cramp-colic, and have me hung for murder?"
By this time I was getting furious, really not knowing whether the fellow was shamming or crazy, as I could not get a word out of him. But to my last appeal he appeared to understand that a friend was near, and groaned out:
"Them darned pork-steaks have given me the 'Minerva Jane.'"
At this announcement, I was almost convulsed with laughter; but his continued groans soon awakened a sympathy for his teat and I replied:
"Why do n't you see if the landlord has any brandy?"
No quicker suggested than attempted; but what was my horror when, as he bounded out of bed, and was feeling in the dark for his boots, I heard one long agonizing yell of, "Murder! murder!" as he went head-foremost through the aperture down into the bed on the lower floor. Before his voice had died away, the sound was reëchoed by the old man, upon whom he had fallen, and who, being stunned by the shock, and awakened out of a dream about land-hunters, redoubled the shouts until the whole house rang with the startling cry. Springing out of bed, and hurrying on my clothes, I ran down the ladder, and reached the group, just as the wife had struck a light, and the old man had discovered the cause of the disturbance in the form of the suspicious Yankee. The terror of the shock and the monstrosity of the act, added the strength of Hercules to the old man’s muscles, and he fell to belaboring the poor horrified Yankee most soundly. No asseverations of innocence could reach the reason of the "green-eyed monster;" and, but for the timely aid of the Madam and myself, who dragged the old tiger off, the Yankee's peddling-days would have been numbered, Nothing could have pacified the old man but my relation ​of the accident, and the Yankee's Bible-oath that he was no land-hunter.
Months afterward, I met this same Yankee on the Levee in New-Orleans, and he declared to me that when he had closed out his venture of notions—which did n't take in them parts—he would go home to Varmount, and never, as long as he lived, would he eat fat pork for supper, or go to sleep in a strange garret without first looking under the bed.