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Table of Contents

NEW YORK TO BUFFALO.

Good advice to emigrants—Examination of the baggage—New York—Schw—z’s boarding-house and its deficiencies—Aspect of the city—Abundance of fruit—An Irishman’s funeral—Fire—Reports from Illinois—The German reformed church—Extraordinary scene—Soldiers—The Scotch and their national costume—Negroes—My tobacco speculation—Unsuccessful shooting excursion—Departure for Albany—Utica—An American breakfast—The canal-boat and its arrangement—Collision—Crowded state of the boat, and consequent discomfort—Lockport—Niagara—Hamilton—Visit to a countryman—Excursion into the woods—Meeting with an Indian—Bear hunt—Bivouac in the woods—Maize—Buffalo—The ‘William Tell’—Village politicians.

Although this blockhouse was called the Quarantine building, the quarantine was not very strict; several of us got a boat to take us on shore, and for the first time we stepped on the soil of a new world—for us a truly beautiful and noble world, but still a new, and therefore a strange one. Singular feelings came over me as I wandered under strange trees, among the pale Americans, and sought some quiet spot where I could indulge my thoughts; they were mournful, though at the same time full of hope and confidence. It was late when I returned to my companions, whom I found assembled round some bread and cheese and beer, and well satisfied with their reception in their new country. While sitting enjoying God’s good gifts, which we had been so long deprived of, a stranger came into our room, but as he addressed us in German, we were soon on a footing of old acquaintance; he was a baker, who had been about thirty years in America, and had realized a handsome fortune; he came with the praiseworthy intention of giving us good advice. The good man might have saved his trouble, for, wise in our own conceits, like all new comers, we knew better than he did. He had lived principally in Pennsylvania, and, like all the people of that State, he addressed each as “Thou.” He cautioned us against the Americans, telling us that they would cheat us whenever they could; “but,” said he, “if you must trust to any one, trust an American sooner than a German. It is a disgrace to the Germans, but it is too true: beware of them, for they are much worse towards their own countrymen than any others; because,” added he, confidentially, “they are the simplest. When you land at New York, don’t go into any of the low public-houses, near the landing-place—‘William Tell’—and such like—they are all dens of thieves; and now if you do—you have been warned—it will be your own faults and you can’t complain.” He continued for some time giving us advice on this subject, and although, at that time, I made no exception to the general rule of knowing better, disbelieving his calumnious warnings because they did not agree with my preconceived fixed opinions, I found afterwards that his words were unfortunately but too true.

A second examination of the baggage exposed more dirt; sick of remaining longer in disagreeable contact with it, we five took the steamer that starts at nine o’clock for New York, making the passage of nine miles in half an hour. There was too much to see, and too much that was quite new, for the eye to dwell long enough on any one object to receive a deep impression, and I hardly knew that the boat had started, when she stopped at the landing-place, and the immense sea of houses of New York, begirt by a forest of masts, lay before us.

The steamer had hardly landed, when we were surrounded by a number of car-drivers, offering to carry our luggage to our destined abode; we chose two, which took all our things, and for which we had to pay altogether one dollar—but they had a tolerable distance to go. Zellner, who had already been in New York, recommended Schw—z’s boarding-house, whither we all went. In all my life I never saw such a dirty establishment as old Madame Schw—z’s: it makes me sick now to think of it. Of course I did not remain much in the house, but for some days lounged through the fine broad streets, admiring several handsome buildings. I was much struck by the immense amount of shipping ranged thickly side by side all round the town, and by the superfluity of southern fruits; in every street were carts full of pine-apples, oranges, cocoa-nuts, &c. The finest pines were to be had for from sixpence to a shilling.

I had wandered about for a couple of hours, and was about to return to the boarding house, when turning the corner of a street I came upon one of the most extraordinary cavalcades I ever saw. It was the funeral of a poor Irishman, which I will briefly describe, as it is well worth it. First came a hearse covered with dirty cloth that once had been black. The driver was seated in front, by no means in a mourning attitude; his left foot rested on his right knee, the left elbow on the left knee. He was dressed in a shabby blue coat, a hat with the rim torn and hanging down; his trowsers might have been white if they had been washed; his left hand held an apple, which he was eating with the greatest composure; the right held the whip, with which from time to time he encouraged his horses; the reins were twisted round his left knee. The hearse was followed by six luggage cars, each containing from ten to twelve mourners, sitting back to back, with feet hanging down the sides, men and women together, in clothes of all colors, eating, drinking, and laughing: to say the least, it appeared to me a very original kind of funeral.

It was late when I arrived at the boarding-house, for when I turned homewards I found so many things to attract my attention that the hours flew rapidly by. All my companions were assembled, and we had much to relate. As we were going to bed about twelve, there was a cry of “fire! fire!” in the streets. I jumped up and looked out of the window—the sky above the opposite houses was deep red. As I was still dressed, and none of the others would go, I ran down stairs, and hastened in the direction of the fire; I hurried along one street after another, following the reflection in the sky; yet it was three quarters of an hour before I arrived at the fire. It was a small wooden building still in flames, so I came in good time to see the engines worked. There were several Germans among those who had hastened to the fire; I asked one of them how far it was to my boarding-house, and learnt to my horror that it was two miles off. He assured me that if I ran to every fire that broke out in New York, I should have nothing else to do all night, as there are seldom less than two in the twenty-four hours. His words were confirmed by another alarm in a few hours; and during the three months that I remained in New York, I remember very few nights passing without an alarm of fire. The fire companies are excellent, and the most respectable citizens are enrolled amongst the firemen; the engines are handsome, and formed of brass and iron, often adorned with a pretty vignette; they are drawn by the men. How different from our old thunder-boxes, in Germany, where it takes half an hour to get the horses ready.

A week passed so quickly, I could hardly persuade myself that it was more than two days. I became acquainted with several Germans. The dirt of the boarding-house became insupportable. I had been introduced to a German family by a mutual acquaintance from Brunswick, and they agreed to let me board and lodge with them for three dollars a week, the ordinary price, washing not included. Washing costs at the rate of four cents a single piece.

I had come to New York with the intention of proceeding to Vera Cruz, but heard so many unfavorable reports of the state of Mexican affairs, that I was at first undecided; and afterwards, as so many told me of the disturbed and uncertain state of that country, and warned me, as a new comer, against going there, I decided on taking a good look at the United States before I visited other countries.

My prospects here seemed to improve. A young farmer from Illinois, whom I met in New York, said that it was not difficult to get a farm on lease there—a lease in the American sense of the word, where the farmer obtains a piece of cleared land, with the necessary buildings, for which he gives the proprietor, who also finds most of the farming implements, one third of the produce. At the same time, he assured me that two men could easily manage sixty acres. But he suppressed the fact that these two must be well acquainted with the American system of farming.

All sorts of plans came under my consideration, without my coming to any determination—and time slipped by.

One Sunday morning I wished to go to church. An acquaintance offered to accompany me. We went to the German reformed church. We were rather late, and I was astonished at the excitement and disorder which prevailed. I was soon to be still more surprised. The preacher, a robust, powerful man, was very red in the face, spoke with great vehemence and considerable ability. He paused every now and then to take a drink. Suddenly, as the confusion was somewhat subsiding, and the preacher was commenting on the text, a lady stood up, and began to speak very loud. At first I could not understand what she wanted. With surprise, I recognized her to be my landlady, and heard such words as “shame—insufferable—insolence—men—turn out of the pulpit,” &c. As I was reflecting on what this could mean, the disturbance broke out afresh. “Down with him out of the pulpit!” “Kick him out!” “Cane him well!” Such were the sounds that filled the church. The congregation attempted to get the preacher out of the pulpit, but this was not so easy as it appeared. The pulpit had a flight of steps on each side, with a door fastening inside at the foot of each. The insurgents attempted to storm the steps on the right, but their pastor proved to them that he belonged to the church militant in the literal meaning of the word. He made only two steps to the bottom, and gallantly defended the door. But too many dogs are the death of the fox. The garrison was too weak. While he defended one side, the other was left exposed. The insurgents made a breach, stormed the left-hand steps, and took the garrison in the rear. The preacher was dragged into the middle of the church, but managed to slip out of the hands of his persecutors, and escaped into a corner, when, putting himself into a regular boxing attitude, he called out with an oath—“Come on, all of you.” These words were not mere bravado; for now that his rear was secure, he kept them all at bay. I had watched the whole affair, standing on one of the benches. It was not a fair fight; for while those in front kept out of reach of his fists, those in the rear kept striking him on the head with umbrellas. At last, making a desperate sally, he succeeded in escaping. This was all that the congregation desired, and several talked of “fetching the other preacher;” but their minds were too excited, and so they separated. On coming home, I learnt the cause of this uproar from my landlady. The congregation had dismissed this hard-fisted preacher, and elected another, who was to have preached to-day for the first time; but they had reckoned without their host, for the ex-pastor was up at daybreak, and having his own key, had gone into the church, and taken possession of the pulpit, where he sat patiently awaiting the turn of events. The other preacher came in with the congregation, and being a quiet, peaceable man, he retired; and the former, in spite of threats and abuse, began the service, and would have carried his point, if my heroine had not lighted the match which set them all in a blaze. Some years afterwards I learnt that the same sort of disturbance had occurred several times in that church.

I was surprised at seeing no soldiers in New York, except now and then a couple or so of military-looking men, with blue jackets and trowsers, and glazed caps. These are Uncle Sam’s soldiers, who devote themselves to their country for eight dollars a month. They are generally men who dislike hard work, yet cannot gain a living in any other way. They enlist for five years. There are besides bodies of militia, German as well as American battalions, who turn out on grand occasions, and are well dressed. A short time ago some of the Scots had a meeting, and got up a battalion in highland costume, the different clans in their proper tartan, with plaids, bonnets, feathers, targets, claymores, bagpipes, and the chiefs with eagle’s feathers. Thus they marched through the greater part of the town. The next day, the “New York Herald” made severe remarks upon people having a claim to respectability marching through the town with naked legs, having music into the bargain, to attract everybody’s attention.

A great number of emigrants arrived about this time, and filled all the taverns. I discovered that the Americans did not seem to care so much about foreigners as I had imagined; and to my great vexation, I saw that Germans and Irish were thought little more of than negroes. Of course there are honorable exceptions, for the educated Americans know how to make a distinction; yet, at that time, it is very possible that I may have been misinformed.

It is disagreeable to the feelings of the newly arrived European to behold the treatment of the unfortunate negroes; for though New York is not a slave state they are considered no better than cattle. Yet they enjoy a number of privileges, which they lately obtained through the kindness of General Jackson. At the same time, they are not allowed to enter an omnibus, nor to sit anywhere but in the gallery of the theatre. They must keep to their own churches, and cannot be sworn as witnesses against the whites.

After a few weeks’ residence in New York, my landlord asked me to try a speculation with him, in order, as he said, to get rich in a short time. He proposed to open a cigar shop. I had no inclination for it at first, having been so often warned against the Germans, but so many people spoke well of him, and said he was so much esteemed, that I began to think he must be an exception. I embarked all the money I possessed in this business. My partner obtained some, but upon credit; and in a short time a cigar shop was opened by the firm, in Broadway, the most frequented street of New York. It seemed a miracle how well I had managed my affairs. Hardly a month had I been in America, and already I carried on a business of my own! It was well that this dream lasted only a short time, or I should have lost everything.

I began now to Americanize myself. I was no longer surprised when I saw a fat mulatto woman walking along the street with a pipe in her mouth, or a lady handsomely dressed, and in the newest fashion, but without stockings; just as little did I marvel to see a well-dressed gentleman, in a black frockcoat, and black trousers, gold watch, chain, &c., going to market with a basket under his arm; and I hardly looked round if I saw a New Englander riding from market, in bad weather, at full gallop, with very short stirrups, a basket of vegetables hanging to his left arm, while his right hand grasped an outspread umbrella. In fact, a man may accustom himself to any thing.

I now resolved on making a shooting excursion, and as Zellner had described the banks of the Hudson as so very beautiful, we started one fine morning with our guns, by one of the numerous steamers, and ran up to our shooting grounds, a distance of twenty-two miles, for sixpence. The voyage alone was worth ten times the money, on account of the beauty of the scenery. The Hudson is certainly the loveliest river I ever saw, with its smooth majestic stream, its high steep cliffs, clothed with the brightest green, with dwelling-houses and villages wherever space will allow, and thousands of vessels of all descriptions giving such life to the whole, as fills one with wonder and delight. As we started late, it was dark when we arrived at our landing-place. We were up at daybreak next morning, and set off to search the woods and fields, eager to spill blood. Weary and exhausted with climbing over the number of fences and hedges, leaping over fallen or half-decayed trees, wading through morasses and mounting hills, we arrived in the evening at the house of a cousin of Zellner’s without having seen a feather or any thing else in the shape of game. Our host received us hospitably, told us that we did not understand how to find game in America, and promised he would accompany us on the morrow. Our hopes revived again; we were ready by break of day, inhaling the sweet morning air and determined upon slaughter, and doubting whether our game bags would hold all that we meant to kill. It was yesterday’s fortune repeated. Here we skirted a wood, there a fence, here we waded a marsh, and there pushed through a thicket; from daybreak to noon, not a shot had been fired. By the time we arrived on the banks of the river, and saw a steamer running down stream, Z. and I had had enough of it, and were rejoiced to see the steamer answer our signals and stop to take us on board. Hungry and tired, without having seen a single head of American game, we returned to New York. After this excursion, I was in no hurry to try another. I had had enough for once, and attended assiduously to my business; taking pains at the same time to learn English, for although I had made some progress in Germany, it sounded like so much Chaldaic or Chinese, till my ear became accustomed to it; then the foundation that I had formerly laid helped me to acquire it quickly.

I remained some weeks longer in the town, otherwise I must have intrusted all that I possessed to the integrity of strangers, and an inward misgiving warned me against so doing. At the same time, I began to reflect that I was fast bound in the town, and could not get out into the open country; and this feeling became every day more painful and vexatious. It struck me that this was not exactly the object for which I had left all that was dear in my native land, and often while brooding over my late step, it seemed a wild, oppressive dream. It seemed as if I could not be in the long desired land of freedom, so many thousands of miles from my loved country, and that I might awake at any moment and thank God that it was only a frightful delusion. It was however a reality, and I decided on breaking my fetters. I soon arranged with my partner; with the exception of a small sum down for travelling expenses, he was to keep the rest in the business till the end of March, and then repay the bare sum I had at first invested.

I left my two chests containing clothes and books in the care of H., and taking some clean linen and a double-barrelled gun, I started for the wide world, according to my heart’s desire. Whither, I neither knew nor cared, except that I wished in the first place to see the Falls of Niagara, and then to follow wherever fate might send me. I was free, once more free, and felt my heart swell with the feeling of independence. I no longer envied the birds of passage, whose flight towards the south my eyes had lately so mournfully followed. I was as free as they were, and no less inclined to use my unbound pinions.

At five in the evening of the 24th Oct., the new steamer “Diamond” left New York for Albany. I stood on her deck inhaling with delight the pure balsamic air, viewing with enchanted eyes the glorious scenery.

My costume seemed probably rather eccentric to some of the stiff Americans, who kept staring with curiosity at the foreigner who was leaning on his gun, and thinking little about them, lost in admiration of the wonderfully beautiful landscape that extends along the shores of the Hudson. Though my costume was nothing extraordinary, yet the tight leather trousers, high waterproof boots, short green shooting jacket, green cap, and open shirt collar, might have appeared so to them. The beautiful double-barrelled gun attracted many eyes, as well as the double-edged hunting-knife that hung on the left side. The German game bag, the powder-horn, shot belt—all, in short, was different to their fashion.

The night was cold and damp, and as on the following morning the sun broke through the thick clouds, his rays were reflected from the steeples of Albany; a pretty little town, and though I stayed too short a time to be able to judge, I believe it is likely to become a handsome city. I left that morning by the train for Utica. It was the first time that I had travelled by a railroad, and cutting the air with the speed of an arrow made an indescribably agreeable impression on me. A drunken man next to me told me long stories, in the still strange English, with a comically mournful expression of countenance, and afforded me much amusement. We arrived at Utica during the night. In the street I found some men with a carriage, and inquired of them when the canal boat left; they pointed to the carriage, one of them taking me by the arm; but I, remembering former warnings, set my foot against the door, and asked about the fare: “Nothing to pay, nothing to pay,” said they, and at one step I was seated in the carriage, which soon stopped before a very grand house. I did not feel quite comfortable under all this hospitality, for every light in the large building seemed to call out to me, “Money is the principal thing, therefore get money,” which sentence I recollect having to translate at Dr. Flügel’s, at Leipzig. I walked in, however, and inquired for the first boat going to Buffalo; meantime be it said, my misgiving was not altogether unwarranted, for I had to pay fifty cents, about 2s. 2d., for a cup of tea with bread and butter. The price of the boat was six dollars, table included, which seemed too dear, and a German Jew who was present took my part and made an agreement for me for four dollars. It was very cold when I went on board the canal boat a short time before its departure, and I found the warm cabin very agreeable.

The morning broke dull and rainy, and the breakfast-bell roused us too soon from our beds. An American breakfast is something astonishing to a newly arrived German. He beholds in surprise coffee, pork, pickled gherkins, potatoes, turnips, eggs, bread, butter, and cheese, all on the table at once; but as soon as the stomach has become accustomed to this strange assemblage, I must honestly acknowledge that it suits a hungry Christian man much better than dry bread and weak coffee.

After breakfast I had plenty of time to notice the company with whom I shared the narrow space of a cabin in a canal boat. There were ten gentlemen and three ladies; these latter had a cabin to themselves, separated from the other by a red curtain; over the entrance was the inscription, “Ladies’ Cabin,” with the friendly reminder of “No Admittance.” The ladies consisted of two old, and one not young. One young man, certainly the greatest lout I met with in America, deeply buried in a coat of his father’s, whose skirts nearly swept the ground, almost hiding his too scanty trowsers, and a hat so large that he was obliged to keep shoving it up from his face, played the gallant to them. These canal boats are very long and narrow, decked over, and rising about six feet above the water; ours was fitted up for the comfort, or rather discomfort of the passengers. They are well provided with windows, hold a number of people, and go very slowly; ours in particular, drawn by two very quiet horses, seemed to traverse the landscape at a snail’s pace. The canal is crossed by numerous low bridges, often only a few inches above the deck, and one must be constantly on the look-out not to be swept overboard, a disaster I once happened to witness. Sometimes it is necessary to lie quite flat, a precaution which also has its dangers, and on one occasion caused a dreadful misfortune, when a passenger, by a boat that had very little cargo, was horribly crushed to death between the boat and the bridge.

On a sudden we stopped with a tremendous crash. Everybody jumped up to see what had happened; our boat was jammed with another in a narrow part of the canal, directly under a bridge; and as ours was the stoutest, she had broken some of the other’s ribs. We remained as immovably fixed as if we had been built in; all attempts to drag the boat backwards were in vain, because the horses, knee deep in mud, would not pull together. At last, in a fit of compassion, and trusting to my waterproof boots, I jumped out, seized the large whip, and giving the horses a few sharp cuts, I made them understand that they could if they would. And they did, but in doing so one of them lashed out behind, in the thickest of the red mud, so that I was splashed all over with it, and looked more like a trout than a human being. I crept back, resolving next time not to be quite so obliging.

At length the captain came round for the fare; I quietly handed out my four dollars, and was not a little astounded to learn that an agreement made with a stranger at Utica was not binding on the captain, and that I must pay my six dollars like the rest—a bit of experience not too dear at two dollars.

So far we had been very comfortable, having had plenty of room; but now we took in fifteen more passengers, all for Buffalo. While daylight lasted all went on well enough, but in the evening I really could not divine where all the people would be stowed; yet with the live cargo of the Bremen lighter fresh in my memory, I considered nothing impossible. The sleeping-places in the canal boats consist of long four-cornered frames, which in the evening are hung up along the cabin; and now that the number of passengers had so much increased, we had to be packed in layers. The frames are covered with coarse strong canvas, on which a small mattress was laid; at least all the passengers who came from Utica had that accommodation, but now, on account of the number of new arrivals, that luxury had to be dispensed with. I scrambled into my swinging bed, having first examined the fastenings, leaving the lately-arrived passengers playing at cards.

I awoke in the night with a dreadful feeling of suffocation; cold perspiration stood on my forehead, and I could hardly draw my breath; there was a weight like lead on my stomach and chest. I attempted to cry out—in vain; I lay almost without consciousness. At last I became quite awake, and remembered where I was, and in what circumstances I was placed. The weight remained immovable; above me was a noise like distant thunder: it was my companion of the upper story, who lay snoring over my head; and that the weight which pressed on my chest was caused by his body no longer remained a doubtful point. I endeavored to move the Colossus—impossible. I tried to push, to cry out—in vain. He lay like a rock on my chest, and seemed to have no more feeling. As all my attempts to awaken him were ineffectual, I bethought me of my breastpin, which luckily I had not taken out of my cravat the night before; with great difficulty I succeeded in moving my arm and reaching the pin, which I pressed with a firm hand into the mass above me. There was a sudden movement, which procured me momentary relief; but the movement soon subsided, the weight was growing heavier and more insupportable, and to prevent being utterly crushed, I was obliged to reapply the pin. “What’s that?” “Murder!” “Help!” cried a deep bass voice above me. Feeling myself free, I slipped like an eel from under the weight, and saw, by the dim light reflected from a lamp hanging under the deck, a sight of no common occurrence. A stout heavy man, who slept in the upper frame without a mattress, was too much for the well-worn canvas; during his sleep it had given way under the weightiest part of his form, which descended till it found support on my chest. The thrust of my breastpin had caused him to make an effort to move, which gave me that opportunity of making my escape I so gladly seized. As he returned to his former position with greater force and weight, from the exertions he had made, the support being gone, the canvas split still wider, and, more than half asleep, he was sitting on my bed, while his head and feet remained in his own. He soon began to call out, “Help!” “Murder!” Everybody started up to see what was the matter, and to laugh heartily at the extraordinary attitude of this stout gentleman.

In the morning we arrived at Lockport, where the canal has a fall of sixty feet, with two sets of locks, one for boats ascending, and the other for those descending: a noble work for so young a country. Here I left the boat for the purpose of seeing the Falls of Niagara, towards which I took the nearest road. It was about two in the afternoon when I arrived at this most colossal wonder of all the rivers of the earth. I abstain from any attempt to represent it; inadequate drawings, and thousands of descriptions, are to be found in all parts of the world; I will not add to the number. It was so surprisingly grand that I could only gaze in admiration, and worship God.

My heart still full of this glorious scene, I avoided the little town of Manchester, lying close to the falls, and followed the first path that led into the country, partly for the sake of shooting, and partly to find a house to sleep in. It became darker and darker, and the mud seemed to be getting deeper and deeper, when I espied a light, which acted as a guiding star through the darkness. It shone from the quiet friendly dwelling of a Pennsylvanian smith, who had settled in the state of New York, and who, with benevolent hospitality, fed the hungry, and prepared a warm bed for the tired. I learned from him, and from other farmers, that Canada was a fine country, that the forests there were full of game, but that sportsmen were often hard beset by bears and wolves.

I took but little time to consider my route, and on the 1st November, a steamer from Lewiston, a small town on the Niagara river, carried me over to Toronto, where I remained the night, and started next morning by another steamer for Hamilton.

Hamilton is a pretty little town on Lake Ontario in Canada, and although only a short distance from the frontier of the United States, a great difference is perceptible as well in general appearance as in trifles. Most of the settlers in Canada consist of English, Scots, or Irish, who all keep to their national habits. I twisted my ankle at Hamilton, which laid me under the disagreeable necessity of remaining there till the morning of Saturday the 4th, when, recovered and joyful, I again sallied for the woods, pitying the poor people who were obliged to live in towns. From Hamilton I proceeded to Dundas, also on the Ontario, and from thence took a northerly direction towards Preston, turning aside, two miles short of the town, to visit New Hope, where dwelt, as I was told, an old German sportsman. I arrived safe and sound at New Hope on Sunday afternoon, and inquired for the abode of the old German, which I reached about dusk. He was not at home, but some half-dozen children of all ages and sizes, stared with their bright clear eyes at the stranger and his outlandish costume. The father and mother were gone to church; and the eldest daughter, a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, was teaching the little ones, some to read and others to spell, from an old well-thumbed catechism. I sat myself quietly in the corner to await the return of the parents, and listen to the tattle of the children.

At length the two heads of the family arrived, to the great joy of the little ones, who ran to meet them. The man presented so striking a likeness to one of my friends in Germany, that, in my astonishment, I hardly answered his friendly “Good evening.” After they had laid aside their church-going clothes, and made themselves comfortable, we sat ourselves near the stove, which in Canada often takes the place of the open fireplace, so hurtful to the eyes. The conversation turned mostly on farming and shooting. He seemed thoroughly to understand the first, and to be passionately fond of the latter. He was just the man for me. He spoke of the former abundance of game, which was fast disappearing through the increasing population, and he complained of the number of bunglers who infested the woods, frightening the game, and crippling the poor deer. He said he was very successful in turkey shooting, which is still the same sport as described by Cooper in his “Pioneer.”

When the night was far advanced, my host showed me to a sleeping place under the roof, where there was no want of fresh air—but I slept like a top. He had told me of a lake, not many miles off, where there would most likely be immense flocks of wild duck; so I was off at daylight in search of some. My new acquaintance had pointed out the direction in which I should find the lake; a path was out of the question, but I thought that I should be able to find it without looking at my compass, and stepped out boldly; but the wood was so thick and there were so many fallen trees, some lying one over the other, that the sun stood high, when, taking the compass out of my pocket, and by its help, making a straight course, I arrived at the lake. I saw plenty of wild-fowl, but perhaps frightened by others, they kept in the middle, very few venturing near the banks. This was out of my reckoning, but as the lake did not seem very large, I resolved on going round it. I had killed three ducks one after the other, and in my eagerness had forgotten how the hours flew by, till I suddenly observed that the sun was fast approaching the west. I now saw that it was not possible to pass round the lake before sunset, for as I came to the clearings, I perceived that as yet I had not gone half the way. Thick masses of cloud were gathering in the N. W., and the wind began to rustle and moan through the trees. I expected to be obliged to bivouac here, and slightly appeased my hunger with a bit of dry bread that I found in my pocket, for I had not had time to roast one of the ducks. The weather threatened worse and worse; in no pleasant humor I was walking slowly along the shore, when I found a canoe, made of a hollowed trunk, fastened to the root of a tree. I stepped in without the least compunction, and paddled to the opposite shore, distant about two miles and a half, directing my course by a large dead tree. The wind blew hard, and the waves tossed the rude awkward craft to such a degree that I was obliged to exert all my strength and skill to keep her even and to force her ahead. In the mean time it began to snow, so that I was soon as white as a miller, and had great difficulty in keeping my eye fixed on the dead tree, and thus preserving a direct course. At last I landed, secured the canoe, and looked out for a path towards some habitation. Before it became quite dark I had discovered a path, which being wet, the snow melted on it as it fell, leaving a dark line along the white ground.

Suddenly I heard a noise as if a whole herd of buffaloes were breaking through the forest, and almost before I could look round, a dark-colored horse passed at full speed, uttering a very remarkable scream of agony. A rider sat on his back, who looked behind him in the greatest alarm. I had hardly caught sight of them, as they passed so rapidly, when another horse, without a rider, rushed snorting after them. So sudden was it, that I should have taken it for a dream, if the footmarks in the snow had not convinced me of the reality. I did not long indulge in useless meditation on the cause of this nocturnal flight through the forest in mist and snow, and soon I was happy enough to find a wheel-track. After about an hour and a half’s walk, I saw a light in the distance, and in a short time knocked at the door of a small farm-house. A voice called out in German—“Who’s there?” It fell like balsam on all my organs, but more particularly on my stomach. The door was opened by the wife of a German wheelwright, whose husband had ridden into a village some miles off, and whose return was expected every moment. The warm stove restored my benumbed limbs to fresh life, which a cup of hot coffee served to heighten. The husband, a good-natured German, came back in the course of an hour. He had arrived in the country three years ago, without a farthing, and now he had a nice little house, a portion of land, and plenty of work. We went to bed about ten o’clock. It snowed heavily all night, so, in the hopes of good sport, I started early, and, as my host would not accept money, I left him the ducks I had killed yesterday. Loading my left barrel with buck-shot, and fixing fresh caps, I hastened out of the hot room, and inhaled in long draughts the fresh morning air.

After an hour’s march, and shooting nothing more than a pheasant and a rabbit, I was startled by seeing a man approach unlike any I had ever seen before. I soon found that he was a civilized Indian. He was dressed in a short woollen frock, blue cloth trowsers, with broad seams, mocassins on his feet, glass earrings in his ears, and on his head a red woollen shawl, wound like a turban, under which sparkled his dark fiery eyes, while his black straight hair hung over his temples. He carried the long American rifle, and had altogether a bold and romantic appearance. His Indian belt, ornamented with beads, held a tomahawk; and his powder-horn and shot-belt hung on his right side. After a short and friendly greeting, we attempted to converse—but that was no easy matter, he speaking broken English, while I was, as yet, only partially acquainted with that language. On my asking him if he had seen any game, he pointed to the ground before him, showing the fresh trail of a bear in the snow, which I had not observed, as my attention had been drawn to him. He made signs for me to go with him, and I need hardly say that I followed him with a heart beating with joy and excitement. We may have gone about five miles, through marsh, moor, and bush, over hill and valley, and hundreds of fallen trees, constantly following the trail, when my silent comrade came to a halt, and pointing to a thick coppice, said—“I believe we find him.” My excitement was now at its height; but the Indian directed me quietly to take my stand by a tree, while he went round the coppice to see if the trail was continued on the other side. I had in the mean time dropped a ball over the swan-shot, and eagerly watched every motion of the bush. It opened suddenly about fifty paces from me, and the bear, a dark brown fellow, walked out to seek his safety in flight. In an instant my ball with the swan-shot, was in his skin, and immediately after that the barrel of buck-shot. Perhaps surprised by the report of the gun, perhaps smarting from the buck-shot, Bruin stood for a moment snuffing the air, and then ran furiously towards me. A ball from the Indian’s rifle stopped his attempt to revenge himself, and stretched him dead upon the earth. The Indian cut down a young straight tree with his tomahawk, and having ripped open and cleaned out the bear, we bound his paws together, and, as he was not very large, slung him to the tree, and carried him to Preston, which was not very far off. We arrived in the evening, and my Indian friend sold the bear for four dollars. He would probably remain in Preston till he had spent it all in drink, and then take to the woods again for more game.

I began to find the climate too cold for me, and several Germans had told me that here it was much colder in winter than in our own country. I had no fancy for that, so turned south towards Lake Ontario, in order to get on to Buffalo. I shot a pheasant which gave me a delicate meal, and had hardly left the fire to recommence my march, when I saw seven wolves standing at a distance of about seventy yards. Without a moment’s consideration, I dropped lightly down in the snow to load one barrel with ball, fearing that I should not do much with No. 4 shot; but when I got up again the wolves had taken their leave. As they had fled towards the S. E., I thought of following, to try and get one or two of their scalps (government gives six dollars for a wolf’s scalp), but as the sun was getting low, and looked very red, I gave up the chase. I had seen several deer in the course of the day, but could not get a shot at them, and my stomach began to complain considerably. An American would have helped himself by shooting squirrels, of which there were plenty, but I hadn’t the heart to eat one of these happy little creatures. Luckily I shot a hare, and had now the comfort of being able to appease my hunger. It was out of the question to think of finding a house for the night, as I was no longer in a track, but in the thick of the forest, and so, before it became quite dark, I collected as much dry wood as I could, cleared away the snow from under a fallen tree, and lighted a fire beneath it, which soon blazed up merrily. When I had got comfortably warm, I set to work on my hare. I opened it, cleaned it out with snow as well as I could, and stuck it on a piece of wood before the fire, placing a piece of bark under it to catch the dripping, with which I basted it. I felt very much the want of salt and bread, but hunger is a good sauce. With the exception of the two legs, which I reserved for breakfast, I devoured the whole. When I had finished, I heaped more wood on the fire, and prepared to pass my first night in the open air in America. I laid my game-bag under my head, pulled my cap well over my ears, and with my feet to the fire was soon asleep. I slept soundly till the sharp morning air awoke me. The fire had burned out, and I was quite benumbed by the frost, and shook so that I could hardly light the fire again. At last I succeeded, and gradually thawed. The rising sun found me deep in consideration of my two legs of hare, which I looked at so long that at length I could see only the bones. After thus taking care of myself, I resumed my march southwards with fresh vigor, and about ten o’clock the crowing of a cock denoted that I was not very far from a human habitation. I hastened forward, and was soon saluted by the barking of dogs. The proprietor was in the forest, cutting wood for a fence. His wife, a pretty little American woman, treated me hospitably with bread and milk, and assured me that I was not above twenty miles from the Buffalo road, and that I should find plenty of farm-houses as I went south. She would not on any account accept payment for my refreshment, and so, with hearty thanks, and working my way through a legion of dogs, I sallied joyfully forth, making the Canadian woods resound with German songs.

On the following morning I reached the Buffalo road, lined on both sides with farms, and on which a sort of stage-coach runs. I was now again in the cultivated part of the country. Wheat is grown in large quantities, and answers very well, as do oats and barley; Indian corn does not attain the degree of perfection in which it is found further south. The ears were small, and most of those I saw had yellow grain.

About thirty miles from the town, I overtook a cattle dealer from the United States, who was on his road back. He seemed a good sort of fellow, and I resolved to travel the thirty miles in his company. We soon became acquainted. He had two enormously fat oxen, which he had bought in Canada, and a dreadfully thin horse, on which he kindly invited me to take turns to ride, as he would willingly walk a little.

A light but penetrating rain was falling, and the ride would not have been disagreeable, though the road had become slippery; only the good man was constantly offering the horse, while I was riding, to every person he met, and would have been glad to exchange it for a couple of cows. When tired, he mounted again, and I walked. He carried a book in his pocket containing a deeply affecting tragedy, and as soon as he was firmly fixed in the saddle, he invariably took it out, and began to declaim, holding the book in his left hand, and gesticulating vehemently with his right, in which he brandished his long cattle whip. Whenever the more interesting parts of the tragedy occasioned an extra forcible movement of the right arm, and with it of the whip so formidable to the oxen, an implement on which they kept a constant watch, they started on one side or ran back, and only the prosaic “Quiet there! Gently!” &c., &c., uttered in a pathetic tone, brought back the horned audience to their duty.

On the evening of the 11th of November, I came a second time to the Falls of Niagara, and could now admire their grandeur and majesty from the Canadian side. From thence a beautiful road runs along the Niagara river to Lake Erie. The road itself is good and dry; on the left the glorious wide river, shaded with trees of the original dark forest, on the right a succession of prosperous farms, with excellent orchards; altogether a most enchanting prospect. The whole distance appeared scarcely more than a few paces. A few miles from Buffalo I crossed a ferry worked by horses in a large perpendicular wheel, and was now in the United States again. What I saw of Canada, showed me that it is, at least this part of it, a beautiful and fertile country, with a healthy, though very cold climate, too cold to suit me. It produces excellent corn, but except in the thickly inhabited parts, sheep and pigs do not succeed on account of the numerous wolves. Many Canadian farmers assured me that the bite of a wolf was like that of a venomous reptile to these animals, and that however slightly they may have been bitten, they are sure to die. But perhaps these deaths may have been caused by the bites of rabid wolves.

It was Sunday afternoon when I stepped into the public room of the “William Tell,” in Buffalo, and seated myself in a corner to rest. The eyes of several respectable German operatives, who were all in hot political debate, were at first attracted with astonishment towards the armed stranger, but soon following up their dispute they forgot all listeners, and I think it might very likely have come to more than words, if the host, a little fat figure, had not rolled himself in amongst them, and restored peace with the conciliatory words: “You are all as foolish as so many stockfish.” In these words, the equality of persons was proclaimed, and their feelings were pacified. It was, however, no trifle that formed the subject of their dispute; for an honest shoemaker would by no means allow that the English could send any troops over, on account of the disturbances in Canada, because the Russian was sitting across their necks. A cabinet-maker, seated opposite to him, maintained that Russia was too far off from England to be able to make war so quickly; but the shoemaker proved to him so clearly that Russia was close to England on the north, and that there was only a broad strip of land between the two Principalities, that the astonished cabinet-maker was silenced by the overwhelming amount of solid learning; the shoemaker admitted that the march from Russia to England was difficult, as the soldiers had sometimes to wade up to their shoulders in sand. Whence the good man had obtained his idea of a march through sand, and his geographical knowledge, is more than I can say, but the debate was amusing enough; and when the shoemaker appealed to me for my opinion, I agreed with him of course, but told him that the Russians intended to lay down bear-skins on the sand to make the march easier, upon which he exclaimed, in astonishment, “What desperate fellows!”

I was up early on the following morning in order to see the town; it is a very pretty place, and contains many Germans; it must become, and in fact is already, the central point of all the interior commerce of the north, for railroads, canals, steamers, and sailing vessels rival each other in bringing and taking away produce.