The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-03-27
DOWN A HOOSIER RIVER.
CANOEING ON THE TIPPEcANoE
From Rochester to Lafayette in a Boat
Maidens Bathing in Calico Gowns-A
Crooked Stream-Fish Dams-Com-
fort and Discomfort.

have been objects OF sympathy to our
sworn enemies, had we any, and could
they have seen us. Between the wreaths
of smoke from our freshly-made campfire
we looked at the piles of duffie, at the
tent half hidden in the foliage, at the cot
fin-like cooking-box, at the tiny canvas
canoe. Then, after rapid mental calcula-
tons as to which of our pet schemes for
comfort and enjoyment could best be
sacrificed, we gazed with despair in our
hearts at each other.
The Tippecanoe. which has its rise in
north-central Indiana, and winds its
crooked way in southwest course for
some two hundred odd miles to the
Wabash, was the favorite hunting-ground
of the Pottawatomies and Kickapoos.
Here the Shawnee Te-cum-seh and his
brother-in-law Law-be-was-i-kaw, the
so-called prophet. held their ill-fated
councils, which ended in the battle OF
Tppecanoe, Just below where the clear
waters OF this river are lost in the mud
yellow of the Wabash.
The banks as far down as Winamac are
almost entirely skirted by prairies alter
mating with beautiful groves.
With hope in our hearts and Monterey
IN our minds eve, we launched the What
is-it, literally loaded to the gunwales The
current is rapid, and save an occasional
touch of the paddle TO keep her head on,
the canoe claimed no attention, and we
were at liberty to revel IN the passing
beauties of field and forest.
The river is crooked beyond belief.
After leaving behind US Rochester and
Lake Manitou, once a favored spot with
the Indians of Wabash, L ventured to in
quire of a native, About how lar is it
from here to Monterey" After an IN
considerable amount of mental effort, he
replied "Bout eight mile" So, with
visions OF soft-tack and milk for supper, we
spun along. Hour after hour went by,
and point after point was turned, but no
Monterey. There is something to be ad-
mired about a river so thoroughly and
completely crooked as the Tippecanoe.
We only rounded one bend to look into
the blight of the next, and pushed on with
the fascinating anticipation OF the I'M
known beyond leading US to entire forget
fullSss of time and place. We pitched
our camp that night in a wilderness.
Early the next morning a man came
down the opposite bank to water his
horses. He wore white shirt, and we
knew it was SUNDAY. l called TO him,
about how far is 1t from here to Mon
terey? % With that same dazed look in his
eyes. he answered after a time:
|By river?''
Yes"
81 don't know"
stBy road. then ~
\ pause, during which the horses were
duly kicked:
diRout four mile
I looked round for Pard. He was say
ing not word, just pitching pebbles at a
long-legged water-spider and Whistllng
softly TO himself.
Silently and lazily floating along be-
tween banks, now more broken, We round
ed a sharp turn and came suddnly upon
two dark objects almost in mid-river;
simmer of light and light ripple indi-
eating a long bar as their resting-place.
Pard's +'What in thunder is it? brings to
the right-about-face two very comedy girls,
with long, loose black hair, clad in very
wet and clinging calico gowns. A moment
of hesitauon-ar esolve-a hasty gathering
OF drapery-a yell that would have turned
Me-shing-ge-me-si in his grave-a great
splashlng OF water. then a twinklng OF
white. and Up the path and over the hill they
90. whats next" saws Pard. drawing
long breath. Round loop in the river,
and we pass house upon the brink of the
of the stream Two black haired girls
peep at US from behind the evergreens, and
we suddenly lost all interest in knowing
'.about now far it was from there to any
where"
At noon we passed the village of Mon
terey, a little one-street town of white
houses with green window-blinds
and a church. The river from this
-rt - - I
dare 20 say so, more crooked than
ever. But it is the more beautiful,
and grows deeper and somewhat broader
The current is ever swift. The banks be-
gin to show bluffs now and then, and
there are occasional indications OF Indian
fish dams. The country around Wilma
mac is historic. and the town derives its
name from the old chief of the Pottawato-
mics, Winamac We landed at the town
half-drowned by six hours of steady run
IN driving rain, two days from Monterey
and about two DAYS behind our schedule
Not far below Winamac lies the village
of Pulaski, called "Pulask-eve" by those
who live there and ought to know, COM
prising half a dozen houses. a general
store and a mill visited the store. The
cleanliness was appalling TO one so ragged
and disreputable as |. The damp. wave
like marks OF the mornings sprinkling
and sweeping were still visible upon the
floor. The counters were bright and clean
Everything looked as if nothing had been
sold for ages. The peculiar mingled odors
of leather. brown sugar and calico greeted
me upon entering the door. There sat the
proprietor, tilted back in his chair in the
middle of the aisle, his hands casped be-
hind his head. his feet upon key of nails,
coatless. and with a slouched black nat
over his eyes, half concealing a formidable
mustsche and freshly lit cigar He looked
so comfortable that | did not care to dis
turb him, 50 asked for a drink of water
A nod 70 the rear OF the room gave me my
bearings on the w4ter-bncket. / drank
with one eve on him but he did not even
look at me as | silently passed out. AS
the screen door closed behind me l caught
this:
g., but it's hot"
We left Pulaski with regret. The men,
Org of its kindly people. OF Of the broad
stretch of willow-fringed water that all day
long laughs and plays In the sunlight, will
not soon be effaced.
Two days from Pulaski and few miles
above Monticello, we reached Norway, a
village whose chief industry is conferred in
a mill for the conversion OF wood into
pulp for paper-making. On the way down
we skirted numerous cliff-like bluffs,
which TO me were very beautiful as masses
of color; but my geological pard said they
were erich !" and insisted uDOn pryinQ