Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-06-01

bed, "what's the matter with building
pair of canvas canoes-building them our
selves-and making a trip from Pittsburl
to Cincinnati next spring?"
The canoes were built, and though thei
'lines" may not have satisfied the mos
fastidious canoeist, they bore us safely ant
well many mile, writes B. A. Jenkins il
the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette This il
the cost:
Several goods boxes for bulkheads, etc. S p
/ One bunch quarter-inch strips. ........... o.
| Ten yards eight-ounce duck k............. ! q
| racks and nails. ....................... q
White lead, colors, oil. on..................... 81
Total. SO 9;
So, one morning in May, our boats with
sundry contrivances for carrying provisions
were placed aboard Pittsburg steamer.
We put in the time learning all we could
about the river on our trip up, making q
friend OF every man on board.
1t was about A. NJ. when we pushed of
from the steamers side at the Monongahela
wharf in Pittsburg, and waved goodbye to
the crew. And for two weeks, with the ex-
ception of an occasional morning, the same
hour found us pushing off from somewhere
or frequently nowhere-along the shores
of La Belle Riviere, as the Cavalier de La
Sale so Justly called the river he discovered.
Indeed, the Indian name it still bears is said
| to signify ''The Beautiful River" For two
week we saw it at all hours in all weathers,
in all moods, at all points, and we're ready
to stand by the man who named it.
The Memorable First Day.
The first day out of Pittsburg was a mem
orable one, and hangs out its red flag of
avoidance like the dynamite boat that was
met later. The experiences of that day say
plainly to the canoeist-as well as to other
people-"Don't try to do it all the first
day." for we nearly exhausted ourselves by
padding 13 hours against the strongest of
head winds, finding in the end that we had
made only A miles. For the rest of our
journey we contented ourselves with an
average of only SO or "a miles per day, for
the head winds continued and seemed to
back, crab-like, ahead of us all the way
down. To add to the difficulty the current
was almost nothing, owing to the low stage
of water. Three cold meals we munched in
the narrow cock-pits of our canoes that day.
as we watched the shores glide slowly by.
Factory after factory, mill after mill, out
of Pittsburg, and further down, hill after
hill and cliff after cliff, with good deal of
wildness and an occasional small Pittsburg,
with more mills for iron, brick, paper or
tow-now and then; and-Oh, yes,
the dynamite boat. The red flag over that
lone man in the small skiff had strange
fascination for US, but it waved us away as
plainly as could the "unclean, unclean!'' of
the leper of old. That man had in his little
boat deadly load He was the bearer of
the dreaded nitro-glycerine from the factory,
up somewhere at the head of the Allegheny,
to the oil fields at Belmont, $50 miles below
Pittsburg, where it is used in shooting the
wells" Night and day the lone Messenger
bears his treacherous burden, that no steam
boat or train will carry. He stops not an
hour to eat or sleep. He touches neither
shore, and avoids the '.rollers" of
side to side to keep away. Nor
do the steamers court proximity They
know that one bump of that skiff on rock |
or shoal would blow skiff, man, steamboat,
rock-yes, almost that everlasting hill itself |
into atoms. That boat had a queer sort of |
fascination for us-especially for Chris He |
wanted to get aboard and talk to theSman.
We tried hard to find glycerine factory. |
Chris wanted to know all about it. But no |
body seemed to know where one was They /
hide them away in out-of-the-way mount
ainous places, where no man comes.
Curious Cries From the Shore.
1t was curious to hear the cries that
greeted us from the shores as we passed.
only once were we cursed and
River people may be, no
doubt are, rough and hard characters, but
little civility never failed to purchase us
good will and all the information and as
sistance they could command. We found
The river people of all kinds-faetory hands,
ferrymen. fishermen, shantyboat men,
faor NOR nu fn cict |
greetings and jokings from
The shores were of all kinds, but the most
frequent was paddle your own canoel''
We were surprised to know how widely the
oldsline is known.
1t was about sunset on that first day when
1 little fellow chirped it at us in shrin
Key, and then jumped into skiff and pad
He'd out to us. We asked him the cause of
/ gathering of people on the shore there,
near little, lonesome village.
"Floater," answered he tersely "Say,
what'n you take fer yer john-boat?"
Floaterl 1t made us creep, but Chris was
IN for going ashore, and could only feebly
protest and follow after. He was a work
ngman, four weeks drowned. His friend
standing by to identify him, spoke the
words, eyes, that's him." just as we
landed.
"How do you know him?'
s'By his clothes and beard
Nobody said anything more, except the
who cursed the men for being
slow with the wagon. We didn't stay long.
Night soon set in, and the moon seemed be-
midland.
We travelled on in silence; each knew
what allied the other. We could see only
hat bloated, discolored body. Chris tried
20 sing "Twinkling Stars are Laughing,
Love-" but failed I had TO proan ont ssT'Ii
,e hanged if 1 like this travelling at night" ;
Neither do l." confessed he And just
hen the cough-cough of a big tow came up
he river ahead, and we could see her bank
# lights. We held our breath, for we could
ell neither where she was heading, nor
Ehere was the shore. She finally passed us {
afely, only shaking,us up a bit, and we &
eayed sigh of relief as we swung round /
he lower end of Blacks Island and saw {
ne lights of our stopping place glimmer on t
he shore. AT the same time the moon
rose, and our spirits arose with her. So
nded our first and hardest day. After that {
re seldom travelled at night.
Recalling Times Long Gone BY.
Another queer cry that rather startled us 7
ne day was uttered by farmer boy As =
e caught distant sight of us he ran down the :
ank, waving his hands and shouting, sIn- /
lans, Indians, Jimmiel Lookl Looki'' and
thought of how often that cry-now ut
'red In fun-had rung out in sober earnest
days gone by. All along the shores of
us Beautiful River" the worst of the In
AN wars had waged. Near where the boy
DIV stood was once the cabin home of n eui |