CHAPTER II. CHAPTER II. 
"Science and Art urge on the useful toil;
New mould a climate, and create the soil.
On yielding Nature urge their new demands,
And ask not gifts, but tribute, at her hands."
Barbauld.
Nature has done so much for the United States in this articleof their economy, and has indicated so clearly what remained forhuman hands to do, that it is very comprehensible to thetraveller why this new country so far transcends others of thesame age in markets and means of transport. The ports of theUnited States are, singularly enough, scattered round the wholeof their boundaries. Besides those on the seaboard, there aremany in the interior; on the northern lakes, and on thousands ofmiles of deep rivers. No nook in the country is at a despairingdistance from a market; and where the usual incentives toenterprise exist, the means of transport are sure to be provided,in the proportion in which they are wanted.
Even in the south, where, the element of wages being lost, andthe will of the labourer being lost with them, there are noadequate means of executing even the best-conceived enterprises,*more has been done than could have been expected under thecircumstances. The mail roads are still extremely bad. I found,in travelling through the Carolinas and Georgia, that the driversconsider themselves entitled to get on by any means they candevise: that nobody helps and nobody hinders them. It wasconstantly happening that the stage came to a stop on the brinkof a wide and a deep puddle, extending all across the road. Thedriver helped himself, without scruple, to as many rails of thenearest fence as might serve to fill up the bottom of the hole,or break our descent into it. On inquiry, I found it was notprobable that either road or fence would be mended till both hadgone to absolute destruction.
The traffic on these roads is so small, that the strangerfeels himself almost lost in the wilderness. In the course ofseveral days' journey, we saw, (with the exception of the wagonsof a few encampments,) only one vehicle besides our own. It was astage returning from Charleston. Our meeting in the forest waslike the meeting of ships at sea. We asked the passengers fromthe south for news from Charleston and Europe; and theyquestioned us about the state of politics at Washington. Theeager vociferation of drivers and passengers was such as is veryunusual, out of exile. We were desired to give up all thoughts ofgoing by the eastern road to Charleston. The road might be calledimpassable; and there was nothing to eat by the way. So wedescribed a circuit, by Camden and Columbia.
An account of an actual day'e journey will give the best ideaof what travelling is in such places. We had travelled fromRichmond, Virginia, the day before, (March 2nd, 1835,) and hadnot had any rest, when, at midnight, we came to a river which hadno hridge. The "scow" had gone over with another stage,and we stood under the stars for a long time; hardly less than anhour. The scow was only just large enough to hold the coach andourselves; so that it was thought safest for the passengers toalight, and go on board on foot. In this process, I found myselfover the ankles in mud. A few minutes after we had driven onagain, on the opposite side of the river, we had to get out tochange coaches; after which we proceeded, withoutaccident, though very slowly, till daylight. Then the stage sankdown into a deep rut, and the horses struggled in vain. We wereinformed that we were "mired," and must all get out. Istood for some time to witness what is very pretty for once; butwearisome when it occurs ten times a day. The driver carries anaxe, as a part of the stage apparatus. He cuts down a young tree,for a lever, which is introduced under the nave of the sunkenwheel; a log serving for a block. The gentleman passengers allhelp; shouting to the horses, which tug and scramble asvigorously as the gentlemen. We ladies sometimes gave our humbleassistance by blowing tbe driver's horn. Sometimes a cluster ofnegroes would assemble from a neighbouring plantation; and inextreme cases, they would bring a horse, to add to our team. Therescue from the rut was effected in any time from a quarter of anhour to two hours. This particular 3rd of March, two hours werelost by this first mishap. It was very cold, and I walked onalone, sure of not missing my road in a region where there was noother. When I had proceeded two miles, I stopped and lookedaround me. I was on a rising ground, with no object whatevervisible but the wild, black forest, extending on all sides as faras I could see, and the red road cut through it, as straight asan arrow, till it was lost behind a rising ground at eitherextremity. I know nothing like it, except a Salvator Rosa I oncesaw. The stage soon after took me up, and we proceeded fourteenmiles to breakfast. We were faint with hunger; but there was norefreshment for us. The family breakfast had been long over, andthere was not a scrap of food in the house. We proceeded, till atone o'clock we reached a private dwelling, where the good womanwas kind enough to provide dinner for us, though the family haddined. She gave us a comfortable meal, and charged only a quarterdollar each. She stands in all the party's books as a hospitabledame.
We had no sooner left her house than we had to get out to passon foot a bridge too crazy for us to venture over it in thecarriage. Half a mile before reaching the place where we were tohave tea, the thorough-brace broke, and we had to walk through asnow shower to the inn. We had not proceeded above a quarter of amile from this place when the traces broke. After this, we wereallowed to sit still in the carriage till near seven in themorning, when we were approaching Raleigh, North Carolina. Wethen saw a carriage "mired" and deserted by driver andhorses, but tenanted by some travellers who had been waitingthere since eight the evening before. While we were pitying theirfate, our vehicle once more sank into a rut. It was, however,extricated in a short time, and we reached Raleigh in safety.
It was worth undergoing a few travelling disasters to witnessthe skill and temper of the drivers, and the inexhaustiblegood-nature of the passengers. Men of business in any other partof the world would be visibly annoyed by such delays as I havedescribed; but in America I never saw any gentleman's temper giveway under these aceidents. Every one jumps out in a moment, andsets to work to help the driver; every one has his joke, and,when it is over, the ladies are sure to have the wholerepresented to them in its most amusing light. One driver on thisjourney seemed to be a novice, or in some way inferior inconfidence to the rest. A gentleman of our party chose to sitbeside him on the box; and he declared that the driver shut hiseyes when we were coming to a hole; and that when he calledpiteously on the passengers for he]p, it was because we weretaking aim at a deep rut. Usually, the confidence and skill ofthe drivers were equally remarkable. If they thought the stagemore full than was convenient, they would sometimes try to alarmthe passengers, so as to induce some of them to remain for thenext stage; and it happened two or three times that a fatpassenger or two fell into the trap, and declined proceeding; butit was easy for the experienced to see that the alarm wasfeigned. In such cases, after a splash into water, in the dark,news would be heard from the box that we were in the middle of acreek, and could not go a step, back or forward, without beingoverturned into the water. Though the assertion was disproved thenext minute, it produced its effect. Again, when the moon wasgoing down early, and the lamps were found to be, of course, outof order, and the gentlemen insisted on buying candles by theroad-side, and walking on in bad places, each with a tallow lightin his hand, the driver would let drop that, as we had to beoverturned before dawn, it did not much matter whether it was nowor later. After this, the stoutest of the company were naturallyleft behind at the next stopping-place, and the driver chuckledat the lightening of his load.
At the close of a troublesome journey in the south, we drewup, with some noise, before a hotel, at three in the morning. Thedriver blew a blast upon an execrable horn. Nobody seemedstirring. Slaves are the most slow moving people in the world,except upon occasion.
"What sleepy folks they are here!" exclaimed thedriver.
Another blast on the horn, long and screeching.
"Never saw such people for sleeping. Music has no effecton 'em at all. I shall have to try fire-arms."
Another blast.
"We've waked the watchman, however. That's somethingdone."
Another blast.
"Never knew such people. Why, Lazarus was far easier toraise."
The best testimony that I can bear to the skill with whichtravelling is conducted on such roads as these, and also insteam-boats, is the fact that I travelled upwards of ten thousandmiles in the United States, by land and water, without accident.I was twice nearly overturned; but never quite.
It has been seen what the mail routes are like in the south;and I have mentioned that greater progress has been made in othermeans of transport than might have been expected. I referred tothe new rail-roads which are being opened in various directions.I saw few circumstances in the south with which I was so wellpleased. By the free communication which will thus be opened,much sectional prejudice will be dispelled: the inferiority ofslave to free labour will be the more speedily brought home toevery man's convictions; and new settlers, abhorring slavery,will come in and mix with the present population; be the lawsregarding labour what they may.
The only rail-roads completed in the south, when I was there,were the Charleston and Augusta one, two short ones in the Statesof Alabama and Mississippi, and one of five rmiles from LakePontchartlain to New Orleans. There is likely to be soon amagnificent line from Charleston to Cincinnati; and the line fromNorfolk, Virginia, to New York, is now almost uninterrupted.
The quarter of an hour employed in reaching New Orleans fromLake Pontchartrain was one of the most delightful seasons in allmy travels. My notion of a swamp was corrected for ever. It wasthe end of April; and the flowering reeds and tropical shrubsmade the whole scene one gay garden. It was odd to be passingthrough a gay garden on a rail-road. Green cypress grew out ofthe clear water everywhere; and there were acres of blue andwhite iris; and a thousand rich, unknown blossoms waving over thepools. A negro here and there emerged from a flowery thicket,pushing himself on a raft, or in a canoe, through the reeds. Thesluggish bayou was on one side; and here and there, a groupof old French houses on the other. It was like skimming, as onedoes in dreams, over the meadows of Sicily, or the plains ofCeylon.
That which may be seen on either hand of the Charleston andAugusta rail-road is scarcely less beautiful; but my journeys onit were by far the most fatiguing of any I underwent in thecountry. The motion and the noise are distracting. Whether thisis owing to its being built on piles, in many places; whether thefault is in the ground or the construction, I do not know. Almostall the rail-road travelling in America is very fatiguing andnoisy. I was told that this was chiefly owing to the roads beingput to use as soon as finished, instead of the work being left tosettle for some months. How far this is true, I do not pretend tosay. The rail-roads which I saw in progress were laid on woodinstead of stone. The patentee discovered that wood settles afterfrost more evenly than stone. The original cost, in the State ofNew York, is about two thousand dollars per mile.
One great inconvenience of the American rail-roads is that,from wood being used for fuel, there is an incessant shower oflarge sparks, destructive to dress ancl comfort, unless all thewindows are shut; which is impossible in warm weather. Someserious accidents from fire have happened in this way; and,during my last trip on the Columbia and Philadelphia rail road, alady in the car had a shawl burned to destruction on hershoulders; and I found that my own gown had thirteen holes in it;and my veil, with which I saved my eyes, more than could becounted.
My first trip on the Charleston rail-road was more amusingthan prosperous. The arrangements were scarcely completed, andthe apparatus was then in a raw state. Our party left Columbia atseven in the evening of the 9th of March, by stage, hoping tomeet the rail-road train at Branchville, sixty miles fromColumbia, at eleven the next morning, and to reach Charleston,sixty-two more, to dinner. Towards morning, when the moon hadset, the stage bumped against something; and the driver declaredthat he must wait for the day-spring, before he could proceedanother step. When the dawn brightened, we found that we had, aswe supposed, missed our passage by the train, for the sake of astump about two inches above the ground. We hastened breakfast atOrangeburg; and when we got to Branchville, found we need havebeen in no hurry. The train had not arrived; and, some littleaccident having happened, we waited for it till near two o clock.
I never saw an economical work of art harmonise so well withthe vastness of a natural scene, as here. From the piazza of thehouse at Branchville, the forest fills the whole scene, with therail-road stretching through it, in a perfectly straight line, tothe vanishing point. The approaching train cannot be seen so faroff as this. When it appears, a black dot, marked by its wreathof smoke, it is impossible to avoid watching it, growing andself-moving, till it stops before the door. I cannot draw; but Icould not help trying to make a sketch of this, the largest andlongest perspective I ever saw. We were well employed for twohours in basking in the sun, noting the mock-orange-trees beforethe house, the turkeys strutting, the robins (twice as large asthe English) hopping and flitting; and the house, apparently justpiled up of wood just cut from the forest. Everything was as newas the rail-road. As it turned out, we should have been betteremployed in dining; but we had no other idea than of reachingCharleston in three or four hours.
For the first thirty-five miles, which we accomplished byhalf-past four, we called it the most interesting rail-road wehad ever been on. The whole sixty-two miles was almost adead level, the descent being only two feet. Where pools, creeks,and gullies had to be passed, the road was elevated on piles, andthence the look down on an expanse of evergreens was beautiful.This is, probably, the reason why three gentlemen went, a fewdays afterwards, to walk, of all places, on the rail-road. Whenthey were in the middle of one of these elevated portions, wherethere is a width of only about three inches on either side thetracks, they heard a shout, and looking back, saw a train comingupon them with such speed as to leave no hope that it could bestopped before it reached them. There was no alternative; allthree leaped down, upwards of twenty feet, into the swamp, andescaped with a wetting, and with looking exceedingly foolish intheir own eyes.
At half-past four, our boiler sprang a leak, and there was anend of our prosperity. In two hours, we hungry passengers wereconsoled with the news that it was mended. But the same thinghappened, again and again; and always in the middle of a swamp,where we could do nothing but sit still. The gentlemen tried toamuse themselves with frog-hunting: but it was a poor resource.Once we stopped before a comfortable-looking house, where a hotsupper was actually on the table; but we were not allowed tostop, even so long as to get out. The gentlemen made a rush intothe house to see what they could get. One carried off a chickenentire, for his party; another seized part of a turkey. Ourgentlemen were not alert enough. The old lady's table was clearedtoo quickly for them, and quite to her own consternation. Allthat we, a party of five, had to support us, was some strips ofham, pieces of dry bread, and three sweet potatoes, all jumbledtogether in a handkerchief. Our thoughts wandered back to thissupper-table, an bour after, when we were again stickiing in themiddle of a swamp. I had fallen asleep, (for it was now themiddle of a second night of travelling,) and was awakened by sucha din as I had never heard. I could not recollect where I was; Ilooked out of the window, and saw, by the light of the moon,white houses on the bank of the swamp, and the waving shrubs ofthe forest; but the distracting din was like nothing earthly. Itpresently struck me that we were being treated with afrog-concert. It is worth hearing, for once, anything sounparalleled as the knocking, ticking, creaking, and rattling, inevery variety of key. The swamp was as thick of noises as theforest is of leaves: but, five minutes of the concert are enough;while a hundred years are not enough of the forest. After manytimes stopping and proceeding, we arrived at Charleston betweenfour and five in the morning; and, it being too early to disturbour friends, crept cold and weary to bed, at the Planters' Hotel.It was well that all this happened in the month of March. Threemonths later, such detention in the swamps by night might havebeen the death of three-fourths of the passengers. I have notheard of any mismanagement since the concern has been put fairlyin operation.
There are many rail-roads in Virginia, and a line to New York,through Maryland and Delaware. There is in Kentucky a line fromLouisville to Lexington. But it is in Pennsylvania, New York,Rhode Island, and Massachusetts, that they abound. All havesucceeded so admirably, that there is no doubt of theestablishment of this means of communication over nearly thewhole of the United States, within a few years, as by-ways to thegreat high-ways which Nature has made to run through this vastcountry. The evil of a super-abundance of land in proportion tolabour will thus be lessened so far, that tbere will be aneconomy of time, and a facility of intercourse, which willimprove the intelligence of the country population. There will,also, be a facility of finding out where new supplies of labourare most wanted, and of supplying them. By advantageousemployment for small capitals being thus offered within bounds,it may also be hoped that many will be prevented from strayinginto the wilderness. The best friends of the moral as well aseconomical interests of the Americans, will afford all possibleencouragement to wise schemes for the promotion of intercourse,especially between the north and south.
I believe the best-constructed rail-road in the States is theBoston and Lowell, Massachusetts: length, twenty-five miles. Itsimportance, from the amount of traffic upon it, may be estimatedfrom the fact that some thousands of dollars were spent, thewinter after it was opened, in clearing away a fall of snow fromit. It was again covered, the next night.
Another line from Boston is to Providence,Rhode Island,forty-three miles long. This opens a very speedy communicationwith New York; the distance, two hundred and twenty-seven miles,being performed in twenty hours, by rail-road and steam-boat.
There is a good line from Boston to Worcester; forty-fivemiles in length. Its estimated cost is 883,904 dollars. This roadis to be carried on across the entire State, to the Connecticut;from whence a line is now in course of construction to theHudson, to issue opposite Albany. There are proposals for atunnel under the Hudson at Albany; and from Albany, there isalready canal and rail-road communication to Lake Erie. There isnow an uninterrupted communication from the Atlantic to the farend of Lake Michigan. It only remains to extend a line thence tothe Mississippi, and the circle is complete.
The great Erie canal, intersecting the whole State of NewYork, is too celebrated to need much notice here. Its entirelength is three hundred and sixty-three miles. It is forty feetwide at top, twenty-eight at bottom, and four feet deep. Thereare eighty-four locks on the main canal. Thc total rise and fallis six hundred and ninety-two feet. The cost was 9,500,000dollars. Though this canal has been opened only since 1825, it isfound already insufficient for the immense commerce carried onbetween the European world and the great West, through theeastern ports. There is a rail-road now running across the entireState, which is expected to exhibit much more traffic than thecanal, without at all interfering with its business.
I traversed the valley of the Mohawk twice; the first time bythe canal, the next by stage, which I much preferred, both onaccount of the views being better from the high road, and fromthe discomfort of the canal-boats. I had also the opportunity ofobserving the courses of the canal and the new rail-roadthroughout.
I was amused, the first time, at hearing some gentlemen planhow the bed of the shoaly Mohawk might be deepened, so as toadmit the passage of steam-boats. It would be nearly as easy todig a river at once for the purpose, and pump it full; in otherwords, to make another canal, twice as wonderful as the present.The rail-road is a better scheme by far. In winter the traffic iscontinued by sleighs on the canal ice: and a pretty sight it mustbe.
The aspect of the valley was really beautiful last June. Itmust have made the Mohawk Indians heart-sore to part with it inits former quiet state; but now there is more beauty, as well asmore life. There are farms, in every stage of advancement, withall the stir of life about them; and the still, green graveyardbelonging to each, showing its white palings and tombstones onthe hill-side, near at hand. Sometimes a small space in theorchard is railedin for this purpose. In a shallow reach of theriver there was a line of cows wading through, to bury themselvesin the luxuriant pasture of the islands in the midst of theMohawk. In a deeper part, the chain ferry-boat slowly conveyedits passengers across. The soil of the valley is remarkably rich,and the trees and verdure unusually fine. The hanging oak-woodson the ridge were beautiful; and the knolls, tilled or untilled;and the little waterfalls trickling or leaping down, to join therushing river. Little knots of houses were clustered about thelocks and bridges of the canal; and here and there a village,with its white church conspicuous, spread away into the middle ofthe narrow valley. The green and white canal boats might be seenstealing along under the opposite ridge, or issuing from behind aclump of elms or birches, or gliding along a graceful aqueduct,with the diminished figures of the walking passengers seen movingalong the bank. On the other hand, the rail-road skirted the baseof the ridge, and the shanties of the Irish labourers, roofedwith turf, and the smoke issuing from a barrel at one corner,were so grouped as to look picturesque, however littlecomfortable. In some of the narrowest passes of the valley, thehigh road, the rail-road, the canal, and the river, are allbrought close together, and look as if they were trying whichcould escape first into a larger space. The scene at Little Fallsis magnificent, viewed from the road, in the light of a summer'smorning. The carrying the canal and rail-road through this passwas a grand idea; and the solidity and beauty of the works areworthy of it.
The canal was commenced in 1817; and the first boat from theinland lakes arrived at New Vork on the 4th of November 1825. Thefirst year's revenue amounted to 566,221 dollars. In 1836, thetolls amounted to 1,294,649 dollars.
The incorporated rail-road companies in the State of New Yorkin 1836 were fifty; their capitals varying from fifteen thousandto ten million dollars.
When I first crossed the Alleghanies, in Novemher 1834, Icaught a glimpse of the stupendous Portage rail-road, runningbetween the two canals which reach the opposite bases of themountains. The stage in which I travelled was on one side of adeep ravine, bristling with pines; while on the other side wasthe lofty embankment, such a wall as I had never imagined couldbe built, on the summit of which ran the rail-road, its linetraceable for some miles, with frequent stations and trains ofbaggage-cars. One track of this road had not long been opened;and the work was a splendid novelty. I had afterwards thepleasure of travelling on it, from end to end.
This road is upwards of thirty six miles in length, and at onepoint reaches an elevation of 2,491 feet above the sea. Itconsists of eleven levels, and ten inclined planes. About threehundred feet of the road, at the head and foot of each plane, ismade exactly level. The embankments were made twenty-five feetwide at the top, and the bed of the road in excavations istwenty-five feet, with wide side ditches. Much care in drainagewas necessary, as the road passes chiefly along the steep slopesof hills, of clayey soil, and over innumerable small streams.Sixty-eight culverts of masonry pass under the road, andeighty-five drains. There are four viaducts of hammer-dressedsandstone, to carry the line over streams. The most splendid ofthese is over the Conomaugh, eight miles from Johnstown. It has asemi-circular arch of eighty feet span; the top of whose masonryis seventy feet above the water. There is a tunnel through a spurof the Alleghany, nine hundred and one feet long, by twenty feetwide, and nineteen high. The foundations of this road are partlystone and partly wood. Each station has two steam-engines; onebeing used at a time, and the other provided to prevent delay, incase of accident. Four cars, each loaded with 7000 lbs. can bedrawn up, and four such let down at a time; and from six to tensuch trips can be accomplished in an hour. A safety-car isattached to the train, both in ascending and descending; andthough not an absolute safeguard, it much increases the security.This little machine, when pressed upon from behind, grounds itspoint, and materially checks the velocity of the otherwise flyingtrain. The iron rails, and some other of the metal portions ofthe work, were imported from Great Britain.
The cost of constructing this rail-road at the contract priceswas 1,634,357 dollars; but this does not include office expenses,or engineering, or accidental extra allowances to contractors.During the first year of the two tracks being opened, fiftythousand tons of freight, and twenty thousand passengers, passedover the road.
Five years before, this line of passage was an untroddenwilderness. The act authorising the commencement of the workpassed the Pennsylvania legislature on the 21st of March, 1831.On the 12th of the next month, the tents of the first workingparty were pitched at the head of the mountain-branch of theConemaugh. The party consisted of two engineers, a surveyor,twelve assistants and axemen, and a cook. A track, one hundredand twenty feet wide, overgrown with heavy spruce and hemlocktimber, had to be cleared, for a distance of thirty miles. Theamount of labour was increased as the work proceeded; and, at onetime, as many as two thousand men were employed upon the road. Onthe 26th of November, 1833, the first car traversed the wholelength on the single track that was finished. The canals werethen closed for the season; but, during the next March the roadwas opened for a public highway. In another year theenterprise was completed: and in May 1835, the State furnishedthe whole motive power. The stupendous work was then in fulloperation.
Our party (of four, one a child) traversed the entireState from Pittsburg to Philadelphia by canal and rail-road, infour days, at an expense of only forty-two dollars, not includingprovisions. There was then great competition between the lines ofcanal-boats. We went by the new line, whose boats wereextraordinarily clean, and the table really luxurious. Anomnibus, sent from the canal, conveyed us from our hotel atPittsburg to the boat, at nine in the evening; and we immediatelyset off. Berths were put up for the ladies of the party in theladles' dressing-room, and removed during the day. We were calledearly, and breakfast dispatched before the heat grew oppressive;but, though it was now the middle of July, I could not remain inthe shade of the cabin: the scenery, during our whole course, wasso beautiful. Umbrella aud fan made the heat endurable on deck,except for the two hours nearest to noon. The only greatinconvenience was the having to remember perpetually to avoid thelow bridges, which we passed, on an average, every quarter of anhour. When we were all together, this was little of an annoyance;for one or another was sure to remember to give warning; but asolitary person, reading or in reverie, is really in danger. Weheard of two cases of young ladies, reading, who had been crushedto death: and we prohibited books upon deck. Charley thought thecommotion caused on our approach to a bridge the best part of ouramusement; and he was heard to complain sometimes that it wasvery long since we had had any bridges, or when one chanced to beso lofty that we might pass under it without stooping. The bestof all in his eyes were the horizontal ones, which compelled usto lie down flat.
The valley of the Kiskiminites is like one noble, fruitfulpark. Here and there were harvest fields of small grain, and ofthe tasselled Indian corn: and a few coal and salt works, someforsaken, some busy, showed themselves on reaches of the river;but we were usually enclosed by a circle of wooded hills,reposing in the brightest lights and shadows. The canal commonlyran along the base of one of these hills; but it often let usslip into the broad lucid stream of the river itsel£
After having left the Kiskiminites behind us, we crossed theConemaugh by a fine aqueduct, which continued its course througha long dark tunnel, piercing the heart of the mountain. Tbereflection of the blue light behind us on the straight line ofwater in this cavern made a beautiful picture. The paths whichhuman hands have piled upon one another here form a singularcombination: the river below, the aqueduct over it; and higherstill, the mountain road, winding steeper and steeper to thesummit. A settler lives on this mountain, the bottom of whosewell was dug out in making the tunnel. In the evening there wasevery combination of rock, hill, wood, river, and luxuriantvegetation that could furnish forth a succession of noblepictures. Charley was as well amused as the rest of us. Heunderstood the construction and management of the locks, and wasnever tired of our rising and falling in them; and they afforded,besides, an opportunity of stepping ashore with his father, toget us flowers, and run along the bank to the next lock. Of theselocks there are a hundred and ninety-two between Pittsburg andPhiladelphia, averaging eight feet in depth.
We were called up before four on the second morning, and hadbarely time to dress, step ashore, and take our places in thecar, before the train set off. We understood that the utmostpossible advantage is taken of the daylight, as the trains do nottravel after dark; it being made a point of, that the ropesshould be examined before each trip. After having breakfasted bythe way, we reached the summit of the Portage rail-road betweennine and ten. There were fine views all the way; the mountainsopening and receding, and disclosing the distant clearings andnestling villages. All around us were plots of wild flowers, ofmany hues.
We were carried on chiefly by steam power, partly by horse,partly by descending weight, and, at the last, down a long reach,of the slightest possible inclination, by our own weight. Themotion was then tremendously rapid, and it subsided onlyon our reaching the canal at the foot of the mountains.
There was again so much hurry--there being danger of either oftwo rival boats getting first possession of the next locks, thatwe of the last car had scarcely time to step on board before theteam of three horses began cantering and raising a dust on thetowing path, and tugging us through the water at such a rate asto make the waves lash the canal bank. Our boat won the race, andwe bolted with a victorious force into the chamber of the firstlock.
We had occasionally to cross broad rivers. Today we crossedthe Juniatta by a rope ferry, moved by water-power; andafterwards we crossed the Susquehanna (at the junction of twobranches of the Juniatta, the Susquehanna, and two canals) bymeans of the towing-path being carried along the outside of thegreat covered bridge which spans the river at Duncan's Island.
The next morning we had to leave the broad, clear, but shallowSusquehanna,--the "river of rocks," as its nameimports. I had before travelled almost its whole length along itsbanks; and, like every one who has done so, loved its tranquilbeauty.
The last stage of this remarkable journey was from Columbia toPhiladelphia, by rail-road, eighty-one miles, which we were sevenhours in performing, as the stoppages were frequent and long.This work, which was opened in 1834, includes thirty-oneviaducts, seventy-three stone culverts, five hundred stonedrains, and eighteen bridges. Its cost was about 1,600,000dollars.-- The length of this passage from Philadelphia toPittsburg is 394 miles.
Where, I again ask, would have been these great works, but forthe immigration so seriously complained of by some?
The number of considerable canals, varying in length fromfourteen to three hundred and sixty-three miles, was, in 1835,twenty-five. Of railroads, from fifteen to a hundred andthirty-two miles long, there were fourteen. The cost of thesecanals was 64,578,099 dollars. The cost of these rail-roads wasnearly thirty millions of dollars.
The Dutch are the best people to apply to for capital when anycanal work is projected. I heard it said that the word"canal" was enough for them.
The steam-boats of the United States are renowned, as theydeserve to be. There is no occasion to describe their size andbeauty here; but their number is astonishing. I understand thatthree hundred were navigating the great western rivers some timeago: and the number is probably much increased.
Among so many, and where the navigation is so dangerous as onthe Mississippi, it is no wonder that the accidents are numerous.I was rather surprised at the cautions I received throughout thesouth about choosing wisely among the Mississippi steam-boats;and at the question gravely asked, as I was going on board,whether I had a life preserver wih me. I found that all myacquaintance on board had furnished themselves withlife-preservers; and my surprise ceased when we passed boat afterboat on the river, delayed or deserted on account of someaccident. We were on board the "Henry Clay," a nobleboat, of high reputation; the present being the ninety-seventhtrip accomplished without accident. Our yawl was snagged one day;and we encountered a squall and hail storm, one night, which blewboth the pilots away from the helm, and made them look "tosee the hurricane deck blown clear off;" but no mischiefensued.
Notwithstanding the increase of steam-boats in theMississippi, flat boats are still much in use. These are largeboats, of rude construction, made just strong enough to holdtogether, and keep their cargo of flour, or other articles, dry,from some high point on the great rivers, to New Orleans. Theyare furnished with two enormous oars, fixed on what is, Isuppose, called their deck; to be used where the current issluggish, or when it is desirable to change the direction of theboat. The cumbrous machine is propelled by the stream; herproprietors only occasionally helping her progress, now bypulling at the branches of overhanging trees, now by turning herinto the more rapid of two currents. She is seen sometimesfloating down the very middle of the river; sometimes glidingunder the banks. At noon, a bower of green leaves is waving onher deck, for shade to her masters; at night, a pine brand iswaved, flaming, to give warning to the steam-boats not to run herdown. The voyage from the upper parts of the Ohio to New Orleans,is thus performed in from three to five weeks. The cargo beingdisposed of at New Orleans, the boat is broken up, and thematerials sold; and her masters work their way home again, asdeck passengers on board a steam-boat, by bringing in wood at allthe wooding places. The "Henry Clay" had a largercompany of this kind of passengers than the captain liked. Hedeclared that the deck was giving way under their number. It wasa pretty sight to see them twice a day,--very early in themorning, and about sunset,--pour from the boat, when she drewunder the shore, form two lines between the boat and the woodpile, and bring in their loads. Most of them were tallKentuckians, who really do look unlike all other people. I felt astrong inclination for a flat-boat voyage down the vast andbeautiful Mississippi; beautiful with islands and bluffs, and theeternal forest; but I have lost the opportunity. If I should evervisit that beloved country again, this picturesque kind of craftwill have disappeared, as the yet more barbarous raft is nowdisappearing; and one more characteristic feature of westernscenery will be effaced.
It seems probable that there will be a more rapid increase ofships and schooners than of steamboats on the northern lakes.These lakes are so subject to gusts and storms that steam-boatscannot be considered safe, and ought to make no promises ofpunctuality. The captains declare their office to be too anxiousa one. A squall comes from any quarter, without notice; and theboat no sooner seems to be proceeding prosperously on her way,than she has to run in somewhere for safety from a sudden storm.
Of all the water-craft I ever saw, I know none so graceful asthe sloops on the Hudson; unless it be the New York pilot-boats.The North-River sloops are an altogether peculiar race of boats.They are low, and can carry a great press of sail, from thesmoothness of the water on which they, perform their voyages. Asloop of a hundred and fifty tons will carry a mast of ninetyfeet high. I could watch these boats on the Hudson, a wholesummer through; moored beside a pebbly strand, in a recess of theshore; or lying dark in a trail of glittering sunshine; orturning the whitest of sails to the sun, startling the fish-hawkwith the sudden gleam, so that he quits his prey, and makes forthe hanging woods. I saw their graceful forms disclosed bylightning, while I was watching, from the piazza of the WestPoint Hotel, the progress of a tremendous storm. I saw them assuddenly disclosed at another time; and still more strikingly.From tbe terrace of Pine Orchard House, on the summit of theCatskill Mountain, I watched, one July morning, at four o'clock,the breaking of the dawn over the entire valley of the Hudson.The difference between mountain, forest, and meadow, firstappeared. Then the grey river seemed to grow into sight, for thewhole length of its windings. It was twelve miles off, and lookedlittle more than a thread. The sun came up, like a golden starresting on the mountain-top; and, on the instant, the river wasseen to be peopled with these sloops. Their white sails came inone instant into view, together with the churches in the hamlets,and the brighlt gables of the farm-houses in the meadows. Thewhole scene was made alive by one ray.
There will be no want of markets for produce of all kinds, inthe United States, within any time that can be foreseen. Ifslavery were to be abolished to-morrow, and, in consequence, morecorn grown and cattle reared in the slave States, the demand forboth from tho north-western States would still go on to increase;so vast and progressive would be the improvement in the south.The great cities are even yet ill supplied from the country.Provisions are very dear; and the butcher's meat throughout thecountry is far inferior to what it will be when an increasedamount of labour and means of transport, shall encourageimprovement in the pasturage and care of stock. While, as we haveseen, fowls, butter, and eggs, are still sent from Vermont intoBoston, there is no such thing to be had there as a joint oftender meat. In one house at Boston, where a very numerous familylives in handsome style, and where I several times met largedinner parties, I never saw an ounce of meat, except ham. Thetable was covered with birds, in great variety, andwell cooked;but all winged creatures. The only tender, juicy meat I saw inthe country, was a sirloin of beef at Charleston, and the wholeprovision of a gentleman's table in Kentucky. At one countryplace, there was nothing but veal on the table for a month; in atown where I staid ten days, nothing was to be had but beef: andthroughout the south the traveller meets little else than pork,under all manner of disguises, and fowls.
Much is said in England about the cheapncss of living in theUnited States, without its being understood what need there is ofequalising, (or what appears so to the inhabitants of an oldcountry,) by means of markets. In places where beef and veal aretwopence per pound, and venison a penny, (English,) tea may betwenty shillings per pound, and gloves seven shillings a pair. AtCharlottesville University, fowls were provided to theprofessors' families at a dollar a dozen. In the towns ofKentucky, meat is fourpence per pound; in the rural parts ofPennsylvania a penny or twopence; and butter sixpence. AtEbensburg, on the top of the Alleghanies, we staid twenty-fivehours. Two of us were well taken care of, had attendance, goodbeds, two dinners each, supper, breakfast, and a supply of bunsto carry away with us; and all for one dollar; the dollar at thattime being four shillings and twopence English. The next week, Ipaid six dollars for the making of a gown at Philadelphia; andall the ladies of a country town, not very far off, were wearinggloves too bad to be mended, or none at all, because none hadcome up by the canal for many weeks.
At Washington, I wanted some ribbon for my straw bonnet; and,in the whole place, in the season, I could find only six piecesof ribbon to choose from.
Throughout the entire country, (out of the cities) I wasstruck witll the discomfort of broken windows which appeared onevery side. Large farm-houses, flourishing in every otherrespect, had dismal-looking windows. I was possessed with theidea that the business of a travelling glazier would be a highlyprofitable one. Persons who happen to live near a canal, or otherquiet watery road, have baskets of glass of various sizes sent tothem from the towns, and glaze their own windows. But there is nobringing glass over a corduroy, or mud, or rough limestone road;and those who have no other bighways must "get along"with such windows as it may please the weather and the childrento leave them.
The following laconic dialogue shows, not unfairly, even if itbe a mere jest, how acceptable means of transport would be towestern settlers.
"Whose land was this that you bought?"
"Mogg's."
"What's the soil?"
"Bogs."
"What's the climate?"
"Fogs."
"What do you get to eat?"
"Hogs."
"What did you build your house of?"
"Logs."
"Have you any neighbours?"
"Frogs."
There are only two methods (besides rare accidents) by whichdwellers in such places can get their wants supplied. When a fewother neighbours besides frogs, gather round the settler, someone opens a grocery store. I went shopping near the Falls ofNiagara; about a quarter of a mile from which place, there is astore on the borders of the forest. I saw there glass and bacon;stay-laces, prints, drugs, rugs, and crockery; bombazeens and tincans; books, boots, and moist sugar, &c. &c.
Pedlars are the other agents of supply. It has been mentionedhow bibles and other books are sold by youtbs who adopt thismethod of speedily raising money. The Yankee pedlars, with theirwooden clocks, are renowned. One of these gentry lately retiredwith a fortune of a hundred thousand dollars, made by the sale ofwooden clocks alone. These men are great benefactors to society:for, be their clocks what they may, they make the country peopleas well off as tne inhabitants of towns, in the matter of knowingthe time; and what more would they have? One would think therewas no sun in the United States, so very imaginative are most ofthe population in respect of the hour. Even in New York I found awide difference between the upper and lower parts of the city:and between Candandaigua and Buffalo there was the slightvariation of half an hour. In some parts of the south, we were atthe mercy of whatever clock the last pedlar might have happenedto bring, for the appearance of meals: but it appeared as if theclocks themselves had something of the Yankee spirit in them;for, while they were usually too fast, I rarely knew one tooslow.
The perplexity about time took a curious form in one instance,in the south. The lady of the governor of the State had never hadsuffcient energy to learn the clock. With both clock and watch inthe house, she was incessantly sending her slave Venus, (lazy,ignorant, awkward, and ugly,) into a neighbour's house to ask thehour. Three times in one morning did Venus loll againstthe drawing-room door, her chin in her hands, drawling,
"What's the time?"
"Nine, Venus."
Venus went home, and told her mistress it was one. Dinner washastened; but it soon appearing from some symptom that it coultlnot be so late, Venus appeared again, with her chin reposing asbefore.
"What's the time?"
"Between ten and eleven, Venus."
Venus carries word that it is eight. And so on.
The race of pedlars will decrease, year by year. There will befewer carts, nicely packed with boxes and baskets. There will befewer youths in homespun, with grave faces and somewhat primdeportment, in well-laden gigs. There w ill be fewer horsemen,with saddle-bags, and compact wooden cases. There will be fewerpedestrians, with pouches strung before and behind, an umbrellain one hand, and an open book in the other. The same men, ortheir sons, will gain in fortune, and lose perhaps somewhat inmind and manners, by being stationary, or the frequenters of someestablishled market.
The conveying of vast quantities of cotton and other producetowards the southern ports is already a matter of pride to theresidents, who boast that they employ the industry of persons athousand miles off to provide food for themselves and theirdependents. The bustle of the great northern markets is also verystriking to the stranger who sees to what distance in theinterior, the produce of Europe and Asia is to be conveyed. But,a few years hence, the spread of comfort and luxury will be asgreat as that of industry is now. By a vast augmentation of themeans of transport, markets will be opened wherever the soil ispeculiarly rich, the mines remarkahly productive, or the localityespecially inviting.
The object is an all-important one. As it is too late torestrict the territory on which the American people aredispersed, it is most serviceable that they should be broughttogether again, for purposes of intercourse, mutual education anddiscipline, and wise co-operation in the work of self-government,by such means as exist for practically annihilating time andspace. The certain increase of wealth by these means is a good.The certain increase of people is an incalculably greater. Thecertain increase of knowledge and civilisation is the greatest ofall.
* "The income of the public works of the State"(South Carolina) "is very small, not exceeding 15,000dollars per annum, over the cost of management, although tbeState has incurred a debt of 2,000,000 in constructing them. Inmany parts of the State, canals have been constructed, which donot yield sufficient to pay their current expenses; and, with theexception of the State road, and tbe Columbia canal, there ishardly a public work in the State, which, put up at publicauction, would find a purchaser."
1833. American Annual Register, p. 285.
From Harriet Martineau, Society in America, VolumeII, Part II, Chapter II, "Transport and Markets."London: Saunders and Otley, 1837, pp. 171-208.
Forward to Society in America, Vol II,Chapter II, Section I, - "Internal Improvements."
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