CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
We had now entered the white settlements of the Sabine river, and found,to our astonishment, that, far from arriving at civilisation, we werereceding from it; the farms of the Wakoes and well-cultivated fields ofthe Pawnee-Picts, their numerous cattle and comfortable dwellings, werea strong contrast to the miserable twelve-feet-square mud-and-log cabinswe passed by. Every farmer we met was a perfect picture of wretchednessand misery; their women dirty and covered with rags, which couldscarcely conceal their nudity; the cattle lean and starving; and thehorses so weak, that they could scarcely stand upon their legs.
Where was the boasted superiority of the Texians over the Indian race?or were these individuals around us of that class of beings who, notdaring to reside within the jurisdiction of the law, were obliged tolead a borderer's life, exposed to all the horrors of Indian warfare andfamine? Upon inquiry, we discovered that these frontier men were all,more or less, eminent members of the Texian Republic, one being ageneral, another a colonel; some speakers of the House ofRepresentatives; and many of them members of Congress, judges, andmagistrates. Notwithstanding their high official appointments, we didnot think it prudent to stop among them, but pushed on briskly, with ourrifles across the pommels of our saddles; indeed, from the covetous eyeswhich these magistrates and big men occasionally cast upon our horsesand saddle-bags, we expected at every moment that we should be attacked.
A smart ride of two hours brought us to a second settlement whichcontrasted most singularly with the first. Here, all the houses wereneat and spacious, with fine barns and stables; the fields were wellenclosed, and covered with a green carpet of clover, upon which weregrazing cattle and horses of a superior breed.
This sight of comfort and plenty restored our confidence incivilisation, which confidence we had totally lost at the firstsettlement we had fallen in with; and perceiving, among others, adwelling surrounded with gardens arranged with some taste, we stoppedour horses and asked for accommodation for ourselves and beasts. Threeor four smart young boys rushed out, to take care of our horses, and avenerable old man invited us to honour his hearth. He was a Mormon, andinformed us that hundreds of farmers belonging to that sect hadestablished themselves in East Texas, at a short distance from eachother, and that, if we were going to travel through the Arkansas, andchose to do so, we could stop every other day at a Mormon farm, until wearrived at the southern borders of the state of Missouri.
We resolved to avail ourselves of this information, anticipating thatevery Mormon dwelling would be as clean and comfortable as the one wewere in; but we afterwards found out our mistake, for, during thefifteen days' journey which we travelled between the Sabine and a placecalled Boston, we stopped at six different Mormon farms, either fornight or fore-noon meals, but, unlike the first, they were anything butcomfortable or prosperous. One circumstance, however, attractedparticularly our attention; it was, that, rich or poor, the Mormonplanters had superior cattle and horses, and that they had invariablystored up in their granaries or barns the last year's crop of everything that would keep. Afterwards I learned that these farmers wereonly stipendiary agents of the elders of the Mormons, who, in the caseof a westward invasion being decided upon by Joe Smith and his people,would immediately furnish their army with fresh horses and all theprovisions necessary for a campaign.
One morning we met with a Texian constable going to arrest a murderer.He asked us what o'clock it was, as he had not a watch, and told us thata few minutes' ride would bring us to Boston, a new Texian city. Wesearched in vain for any vestiges which could announce our being in thevicinity of even a village; at last, however, emerging from a swamp,through which we had been forcing our way for more than an hour, wedescried between the trees a long building, made of the rough logs ofthe black pine, and as we advanced, we perceived that the space betweenthe logs (about six inches) had not been filled up, probably to obtain amore free circulation of air. This building, a naked negro informed us,was Ambassadors' Hall, the great and only hotel of Texian Boston.
Two hundred yards farther we perceived a multitude of individualsswarming around another erection of the same description, but without aroof, and I spurred on my horse, believing we should be in time towitness some cockfighting or a boxing-match; but my Americanfellow-travellers, better acquainted with the manners and customs of thenatives, declared it was the "Court House." As we had nothing to dothere, we turned our horses' heads towards the tavern, and the barkingof a pack of hungry dogs soon called around us a host of the Bostonians.
It is strange that the name of city should be given to an unfinishedlog-house, but such is the case in Texas; every individual possessingthree hundred acres of land calls his lot a city, and his house becomesat once the tavern, the post office the court-house, the gaol, the bank,the land-office, and in fact everything. I knew a man near the RedRiver, who had obtained from government an appointment of postmaster,and, during the five years of his holding the office, he had not had asingle letter in his hand.
This city mania is a very extraordinary disease in the United States,and is the cause of much disappointment to the traveller. In the Iowaterritory, I once asked a farmer my way to Dubugue.
"A stranger, I reckon," he answered; "but no matter, the way is plainenough. Now, mind what I say: after you have forded the river, you willstrike the military road till you arrive in the prairie; then you ridetwenty miles east, till you arrive at Caledonia city; there they willtell you all about it."
I crossed the river, and, after half an hour's fruitless endeavours, Icould not find the military road, so I forded back, and returned to myhost.
"Law!" he answered; "why, the trees are blazed on each side of theroad."
Now, if he had told me that at first, I could not have mistaken, for Ihad seen the blazing of a bridle-path; but as he had announced amilitary road, I expected, what it imported, a military road. I resumedmy journey and entered the prairie. The rays of the sun were verypowerful, and, wishing to water my horse, I hailed with delight amiserable hut, sixteen feet square, which I saw at about half a milefrom the trail. In a few minutes I was before the door, and tied myhorse to a post, upon which was a square board bearing some kind ofhieroglyphics on both sides. Upon a closer inspection, I saw upon oneside, "Ice," and upon the other, "POSTOFF."
"A Russian, a Swede, or a Norwegian," thought I, knowing that Iowacontained eight or ten thousand emigrants of these countries. "Ice--well, that is a luxury rarely to be found by a traveller in the prairie,but it must be pretty dear; no matter, have some I must."
I entered the hut, and saw a dirty woman half-naked, and slumbering upona stool, by the corner of the chimney.
"Any milk?" I inquired, rousing her up.
She looked at me and shook her head; evidently she did not understandme; however, she brought me a stone jug full of whisky, a horn tumbler,and a pitcher of water.
"Can you give my horse a pail of water?" I asked again.
The woman bent down her body, and dragging from under the bed a girl offourteen, quite naked, and with a skin as tough as that of an alligator,ordered her to the well with a large bucket. Having thus provided formy beast, I sat upon a stump that served for a chair, and once moreaddressed my hostess.
"Now, my good woman, let us have the ice."
"The what?" she answered.
As I could not make her understand what I wanted, I was obliged to drinkthe whisky with water almost tepid, and my horse being refreshed, I paidmy fare and started.
I rode for three hours more, and was confident of having performed twicethe distance named by mine host of the morning, and yet the prairiestill extended as far as the eye could reach, and I could not perceivethe city of Caledonia. Happily, I discovered a man at a distance ridingtowards me: we soon met.
"How far," said I, "to Caledonia city?"
"Eighteen miles," answered the traveller.
"Is there no farm on the way?" I rejoined, "for my horse is tired."
The h
orseman stared at me in amazement. "Why, Sir," he answered, "youturn your back to it; you have passed it eighteen miles behind."
"Impossible!" I exclaimed: "I never left the trail, except to water myhorse at a little hut."
"Well," he answered, "that was at General Hiram Washington Tippet's; hekeeps the post-office--why, Sir, that was Caledonia city."
I thanked him, unsaddled my horse, and bivouacked where I was, laughingheartily at my mistake in having asked for _ice_, when the two sides ofthe board made _post-office_.
But I must return to Boston and its court-house. As it was the time ofthe assizes, some fifty or sixty individuals had come from differentquarters, either to witness the proceedings, or to swap their horses,their saddles, their bowie knife, or anything; for it is while law isexercising its functions that a Texian is most anxious to swap, tocheat, to gamble, and to pick pockets and quarrel under its nose, justto shew his independence of all law.
The dinner-bell rang a short time after our arrival, and for the firsttime in my life I found myself at an American _table-d'hote_. I wasastonished, as an Indian well might be. Before my companions and selfhad had time to set down and make choice of any particular dish, all wasdisappearing like a dream. A general opposite to me took hold of afowl, and, in the twinkling of an eye, severed the wings and legs. Ithought it was polite of him to carve for others as well as himself, andwas waiting for him to pass over the dish after he had helped himself,when to my surprise, he retained all he had cut off, and pushed thecarcase of the bird away from him. Before I had recovered from myastonishment, his plate was empty. Another seized a plate cranberries,a fruit I was partial to, and I waited for him to help himself first andthen pass the dish over to me; but he proved be more greedy than thegeneral, for, with an enormous horn spoon, he swallowed the whole.
The table was now deserted by all except by me and my companions, who,with doleful faces, endeavoured to appease our hunger with some straypotatoes. We called the landlord, and asked him for something to eat;it was with much difficulty that we could get half-a-dozen of eggs andas many slices of salt pork. This lesson was not thrown away upon me;and afterwards, when travelling in the States, I always helped myselfbefore I was seated, caring nothing for my neighbours. Politeness atmeals may be and is practised in Europe, or among the Indians, but amongthe Americans it would be attended with starvation.
After dinner, to kill time, we went to the court-house and werefortunate enough to find room in a position where we could see and hearall that was going on.
The judge was seated upon a chair, the frame of which he was whittlingwith such earnestness that he appeared to have quite forgotten where hewas. On each side of him were half-a-dozen of jurymen, squatted uponsquare blocks, which they were also whittling, judge and jurymen havingeach a cigar in the mouth, and a flask of liquor, with which now andthen they regaled themselves. The attorney, on his legs, addressing thejury, was also smoking, as well as the plaintiff, the defendant, and allthe audience. The last were seated, horseback-fashion, upon parallellow benches, for their accommodation, twenty feet long, all turnedtowards the judge, and looking over the shoulders of the one in front ofhim, and busily employed in carving at the bench between his thigh andthat of his neighbour. It was a very singular _coup-d'oeil_, and anew-comer from Europe would have supposed the assembly to have been a"whittling club."
Having surveyed the company, I then paid attention to the case on trial,and, as I was just behind the defendant, I soon learned how justice wasexecuted in Texas, or, or least, in Texian Boston. It appeared that thedefendant was the postmaster and general merchant of the country. Twoor three weeks back, the son of the plaintiff had entered his shop topurchase his provision of coffee, sugar, and flour, and had given him tochange a good one-hundred-dollar bill of one of the New Orleans banks.The merchant had returned to him a fifty-dollar note and another of ten.Two hours afterwards, the young man, having swapped his horse,carriole, and twenty dollars, for a waggon and two couple of oxen,presented the fifty-dollar note, which was refused as beingcounterfeited. The son of the plaintiff returned to the merchant, andrequested him to give him a good note. The merchant, however, wouldnot: "Why did you take it?" said he; "I be damned if I give you anyother money for it." Upon which the young man declared it was shamefulswindling, and the merchant, throwing at him an iron weight of ninepounds, killed him on the spot.
The attorney, who was now pleading for the defendant, was trying toimpress upon the jury that the murder had been merely accidental,inasmuch as the merchant had thrown the missile only in sport, just toscare away the fellow who was assaulting him in his own house; but,strange to say, no mention was made at all of the note, though everybodyknew perfectly well that the merchant had given it, and that it was apart of his trade to pass forged notes among his inexperiencedcustomers. As soon as the lawyer had ended the defence, the merchantwas called upon by the judge to give his own version of what occurred.He rose:
"Why," said he, "it was just so as has been said. I wished not to hurtthe fellow; but he called me a swindler. Well, I knew the man was in apassion, and I did not care. I only said, `How dare you, Sir?' and Ithrew the piece of iron just to frighten him. Well, to be sure, theblackguard fell down like a bull and I thought it was a humbug. Ilaughed and said, `None of your gammon;' but he was dead. I think thething must have struck something on the way, and so swerved against hishead. I wished not to kill the fellow--I be damned if I did."
The jurymen looked at each other with a significant and approving air,which could be translated as accidental death. Gabriel touched themerchant upon the shoulder, "You should have said to him, that youmerely wished to kill a mosquito upon the wall."
"Capital idea," cried the defendant. "I be damned if it was not amosquito eating my molasses that I wished to kill, after all."
At that moment one of the jurymen approached the merchant, and addressedhim in a low voice; I could not hear what passed, but I heard theparting words of the juryman, which were, "All's right!" To thisdispenser of justice succeeded another; indeed, all the jurymen followedin succession, to have a little private conversation with the prisoner.At last the judge condescended to cease his whittling, and come to makehis own bargain, which he did openly:
"Any good saddles, Fielding? mine looks rather shabby."
"Yes, by Jingo, a fine one, bound with blue cloth, and silver nails--Philadelphia-made--prime cost sixty dollars."
"That will do," answered the judge, walking back to his seat.
Ten minutes afterwards the verdict of manslaughter was returned againstthe defendant, who was considered, in a speech from the judge,sufficiently punished by the affliction which suck an accident mustproduce to a generous mind. The court broke up, and Fielding, probablyto show how deep was his remorse, gave three cheers, to which the wholecourt answered with a hurrah, and the merchant was called upon to treatthe whole company: of course he complied, and they all left the courthouse. Gabriel and I remained behind. He had often tried to persuademe to abandon my ideas of going to the States and Europe, pointing outto me that I should be made a dupe and become a prey to pretendedwell-wishers. He had narrated to me many incidents of his own life, ofhis folly and credulity, which had thrown him from an eminent station incivilised society, and had been the cause of our meeting in the WesternWorld. He forewarned me that I should be disappointed in myexpectations, and reap nothing but vexation and disappointment.
He knew the world too well, I knew nothing of it, and I thought that hewas moved by bitterness of spirit to rail so loud against it. He wouldfain persuade me to return with him to my own tribe of Shoshones, andnot go in search of what I never should obtain. He was right, but I wasobstinate. He did not let pass this opportunity of giving me a lesson.
"You have now witnessed," said he, "a sample of justice in this_soi-disant_ civilised country. Two hundred dollars, perhaps, havecleared a murderer; ten millions would not have done it among theShoshones."
"But Texa
s is not Europe," replied I.
"No," said Gabriel, "it is not; but in Europe, as in Texas, with moneyyou can do anything, without money nothing."
At that moment we perceived a man wrapt in his blanket, and leaningagainst a tree.
He surveyed the group receding to the tavern, and the deepest feelingsof hatred and revenge were working evidently within him. He saw us not,so intense were his thoughts. It was the plaintiff whose son had beenmurdered. Gabriel resumed:
"Now, mark that man; he was the plaintiff, the father of the youngfellow so shamefully plundered and murdered; he is evidently a poorfarmer, or the assassin would have been hung. He is now brooding overrevenge; the law gave not justice, he will take it into his own hands,and he will probably have it to-night, or to-morrow. Injustice causescrime, and ninety-nine out of a hundred are forced into it by theimpotency of the law; they suffer once, and afterwards act towardsothers as they have been acted by. That man may have been till this daya good, industrious, and hospitable farmer; to-night he will be amurderer, in a week he will have joined the free bands, and will thenrevenge himself upon society at large, for the injustice he has receivedfrom a small portion of the community."
Till then I had never given credit to my friend for any great share ofpenetration, but he prophesied truly. Late in the night the fatherannounced his intention of returning to his farm, and entered thegeneral sleeping-room of the hotel to light a cigar. A glance informedhim of all that he wished to know. Forty individuals were rangedsleeping in their blankets, alongside of the walls, which, as I haveobserved, were formed of pine logs, with a space of four or six inchesbetween each: parallel with the wall, next to the yard, lay the murdererFielding.
The father left the room, to saddle his horse. An hour afterwards thereport of a rifle was heard, succeeded by screams and cries of "Murder!help! murder!" Every one in the sleeping-room was up in a moment,lights were procured, and the judge was seen upon his knees with hishands upon his hinder quarters; his neighbour Fielding was dead, and thesame ball which had passed through his back and chest had blazed thebark off the nether parts of this pillar of Texian justice.
When the first surprise was over, pursuit of the assassin was resolvedupon, and then it was discovered that, in his revenge, the father hadnot lost sight of prudence. All the horses were loose; the stable andthe court-house, as well as the bar and spirit store of the tavern, werein flames. While the Bostonians endeavoured to steal what they could,and the landlord was beating his negroes, the only parties upon whom hecould vent his fury, our companions succeeded in recovering theirhorses, and at break of day, without any loss but the gold watch of thedoctor, which had probably been stolen from him during his sleep, westarted for the last day's journey which we had to make in Texas.
As we rode away, nothing remained of Texian Boston except three patchesof white ashes, and a few half-burnt logs, nor do know if that importantcity has ever been rebuilt.