The Emigrant aid journal of Minnesota. [volume], November 07, 1857, Image 1

About The Emigrant aid journal of Minnesota. [volume] (Nininger City, Minn. Terr. [i.e. Minn.]) 1856-1858

Image provided by: Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

                
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VOLUME 1.
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A. W. M4CDOXALD.
KI«1 TOR AND 1* ROI’RI KTOR.
IS IStI'KD EVERY OTHER WEEK. *T THE
CITY OF 3JINIXGER, Dakotn Co., M. T.
AT TWO DOLLARS A YEAH, IN ADVANCE.
RATES or advertising :
light line*, one time, ----- ** !!V
•* •* three times, - uu
j®*Sp«cial contracts will he made with those desiring to
advertise by the year.
Character or the Developement In Pro
gress at the West.
The magnificent plains, prairies, and valleys of the
C.reat West, have been the theme of many speculations
as to their hearing and influence cm the rest of the .
world, when they shall be taken possession of by eivil
iaed man. The richness of the country, hardly loss
fertile than the bunks of the Nile in old lvgypt, and with
a climate to suit the habits and feelings of almost every
tribe of man on the earth, must yet attract, the veiy
life from the worn-out nations of Europe—and the
scattered thousands that are lost in the wilderness now,
will increase to hundreds of thousands, and millions at
some future day. llulikc the sterile, and rough lands
that have so long been a barrier to their approach and
settlement, this region is thoroughly pren.n to ie
oeive and nourish cities and kingdoms as they alight u
its smooth end gentle eloping surface ; over the iuipcoi
ineot that has hidden its attractiveness, the families ot
the Old World arc to be transported on highways that
tb« bocUr hav® devoted all their skill and wealth
to prepare for them almost unwittingly.
The Great Plains beyond the Mississippi to the lioeky
Mountains, comprehending nearly 1000 miles square,
is soon to be regarded us a ri«-h and lovely region, in
stead of being viewed as h 1 < esert, as at present. Al
though devoid of timber, the great Designer who laid
them out fitted them for becoming the cardinal basis of
an empire of commerce and industry exceeding in exteut
and power that, of any on record, adapted the means to
this end.
The clu tracier and adaptedness of these Great
Plains to perform their part of the great work is beauti
fully 9et forth in an article prepared some time since by
Col. W. Gilpin, and published in the St. .Joseph (Mo.)
Journal. It is too valuable to !>■ lost, and should be
preserved as a matter of history We therefore copy it
as a subject that interests us, as we shall he bound closely
to that region to participate iu all its advantages, when
the National Railroad shall connect the Atlantic and
Pacific Oeeans in a few years hence.
i There is no timber upon the Great Plains, and single
trees are scarce. They have a gentle slope from the
west to the east and abound iu rivers. They are clad
with nutritious grasses, and swarm with animal lift.
The soil is not silicious or sandy, but is a fine calcareous
mold. They run smoothly out to the navigable rivers
the Missouri, Mississippi, aud St. Lawrence. Their
area is equivalent to th. surface of the twenty-four
States between the Mississippi and the Atlantic Ocean,
but they are one homogeneous formation —smooth, uni
form, and continuous, without a single abrupt mountain,
timbered space, desert, or lake. From their ample di
mensions and position they define themselves to be Hie
‘‘pasture fields of the worid. I pon them pastoral
agriculture will become a separate grand department ol
national industry.
The pastoral characteristic being novel to our people
needs a minute explanation In traversing the conti
Bent from the Atlantic beach to the South Pass, tbt
poiut of the greatest altitude and remoteucss from th<
■ea, we cross successively the timbered region, the prairii
region of soft soil, and long annual grasses, aud finally
the Great Plains. The two first are irrigated by tin
rains coming from the sea, aud are arable. Ihe last i:
rainleas, of a compact soil, resisting the plow, and ii
therefore pastoral. Its herbage is peculiarly adapted t<
the climate and the dryness of the soil and atmosphere
and is perennial. It is edible and nutritious through
out the year. This is the “ ymmnw or buffalo grass.’
It covers the ground one inch in bight, has the appear
ance of a delicate moss, and its leaf has the fineness am
spiral texture of a negro’s hair.
During the melting of the snows in the iuimensi
mountain masses at the back of the Great Plrins, th(
livers swell like the Nile, aud yield a copious evapori
tion iu their long, sinuous course across the Plains
storm clouds gather on the summits, roll down th<
mountain flauks, and discharge themselves in verna
showers. During this temporary prevalence of rnois
atmosphere, these delicate grasses grow seed in the root
dud are “ cured iuto hay upon the ground,” by the gra«J
ually returning drought. ' It is this longitudinal belt i
perennial pasture upou which the buffalo finds his ait
ter food, dwelling upon it without regard to latitude
aud here are the infinite herds of aboriginal cattle p<
culiar to North America—buffalo, wild horses, -ll
white and black-tailed deer, mountain sheep, the grizzl
bear, the antelope, wolves, the hare, badger, porcupun
and smaller animals innumerable. The aggregate nun
ber of this cattle, by calculation from sound data, c;
~e e ds 100,1100,000. No annual tires ever sweep ov«
the Grek Plains: these arc confined to the prairie r
gion.
The Great Plains also swarm with Pool try—the tu
key, the mountain cock, the sand-hill crane, the curlei
water fowl of every variety, the swan, goose, Loan
ducks, marmots, the armadillo, the picary, reptiles, ti
horned frog, birds ol prey, eagles, vultures, the ravci
aud the small birds of game aad song. Tbe streau
abound iu fish ; dog* aud deuii-wolves abound, l'i
immense population of nomadic Indians, lately one mi
lion in number, have, from immemorial antiquity, sn
sisted exclusively upon these aboriginal herds, bcii
unacquainted with any kind of agriculture, or the babi
nul use of vegetable food or fruits.
Prom this source the Indian draws exclusively li
fooll, his lodge, his fuel, harness, clothing, bed, his <
uaiucuts, weapon*, and uunsils Here is his sole ii
peßdence from the beginning to the cud of his existent
-■ c.;. -
yh
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Tlif innumerable carnivorous animals also subsist on P 1
them. The buffalo alone have appeared to me as nu- .
uierousas the American people, and to inhabit uniform- :
Iv as large a space of country. The buffalo robe at !an
once suggests his adaptability to a winter climate. !
The Great Plains embrace a very ample proportion of , !
arable soil for formers. The “ bottoms "of the rivers I -
are very broad and level, having only a tew inches of I
elevation above the water, which descends ny a rapid |
and even curient. They arc easily and cheaply saturated !
by all the various systems of artificial irrigation,:
azequieas, artesian wells, or Hooding by machinery. ;' j
Under this treatment the soils, being alluvial and cal- j
careous, both from the sulphate and carbonate torma
tions, return a prodigious yield, and are independent ot <
the seasons. Every variety of grain, grass, vegetable, :
the grape and other fruits, flax, hemp, cotton, and the
flora, under a perpetual sun, and irrigated at the root, >
attain extraordinary vigor, flavor, and beauty. ' w
The Great Plains abound in fuel and the materials ;
for dwellings aud fencing. Bituminous* coal is every- j
where interstratifiod with the calcareous and sandstone j *
formation ; it is also abundant in the flanks of the moun- !
tains, aud is everywhere conveniently accessible. 1 e
order of vegetable growth being reversed by the aridity j
of the atmosphere, what show above as the merest bush- ,
es, radiate themselves deep into the earth, and form ,
below an immense aborescent growth. Fuel of wood is j
found by digging. Plaster and lime, limestone, free- j
stone, day, and sand exist beneath almost every aeie. j j
Large economical adobe brick, hardened in,t he sun and !
without fires, supersede other materials tor walls and
. fences in this dry atmosphere, and, as in Syria and
i Egypt, resists decay for centuries. Dwellings time con- j
? true ted are most healthy, beiug impervious to heat, cold, ; 0
(iamp, and wind. ... , , ' I
The climate of the Great Plain# is favorable to health, ip
longevity, and intellectual and physical development, ; „
and stimulative of an exalted tone of social civilization ;
aud refinement. Americans and (heir ancestral Euro-
. peau people having dwelt for many thousand years ex- ,
clusively in countries ot timber and within the j-,
:of the maritime atmosphere, where winter annihilates j,
all vegetation annually for half the year; where al|
animal food must be .*ustained, fed, and fattened by til- a
lage with the plaw ; where the essential necessities of t ,
existence, food, clothing, fuel, and dwellings are secured s
oulv by constant care and intense manual tuil; why to ; s
; this people, heretofore, the immense empire ot pastoral ,
| agriculture, at the thresh hold of which we have arrived, , j
| has been as completely a blank as was the present con- r
> Git ion of s'cial development on the Atlantic Ocean and } j
I American Continent to the ordinary thoughts of the • ( .
antique Greeks and Romans! Hence this immense jj.
i world of plains and mountains, occupying three-fifths of j j
,our continent, so novel to them and so exactly contra- .
jdictory in ever}' feature of the existing prejudices, ]
| routine, and economy of society, is unanimously pro-
jnounced an nuinhabitsble desert. f Joany reversal of ; s
| such a judgment, the unanimous publit opinion, the rich ]
|and poor, the wise aud ignorant, the famous and °b-j t
scure, agree to oppose unanimously a dogmatic and uni- L
! versal deafness. To them the delineation of travelers, . ,
S elsewhere intelligent, are here tinged with lunacy ; the |
I science of geography is befogged ; the sublime order ot ]
; Creation no longer bolds, and the Supreme engineering . (
'of God is at fault aud a chaos of blunders ! i (
The bulk of it is under the temperate zone, out of: j
which it runs into the arctic zone ou the south ; the jj
parallel Atlantic amble aud commercial region flanks it
jon the east; that of the Pacific on the west The Great ~
: Plains then at once separate and bind together these j,
1 (flunks, rounding out both the variety aud compactness j
;of arrangement in the elementary details of society, ;
! which enables a continent to govern itself with thesame |
j ease as a siugle city. I
Assuming, then, that the advancing column ot pro- ,
oress, as having reached and established itself in foicc j.
’ i all along the eastern front of the Great Plains, from
‘ i Eouisiaua to Minnesota; having also jumped over and !,
: flanked them to occupy California aud Oregon ; assu-
J. ; tiling that this column is about to ilebouch upon them
' lo the front and occupy them with the embodied impulse j'
of our thirty millions of population, heretofore scattered j
> ;upon the flanks, but now converging into phalanx upon i
the centre; some reflections, legitimately made, may
B cheer the timid und confirm those who hesitate from old
e opinion and the prejudices of adverse education.
e j It is well established that six-tenths of the food of
f | the human family is, or ought to be, animal food, which j
R ! is the result of pastoral agriculture. As compared with
9 j the human family, the cattle of the world consume about j
s i eight times the f od. Meat, milk, butter, cheese, poul
° j try, eggs, wool, leather, honey, are the productions of
'■> j pastoral agriculture. Fish is the spontaneous produc
* tion of the water. Niue-tcuths of the labor of arable
culture is expended to produce the grain aud grasses i
* that sustain the present supplies to the world of the ,
above enumerated articles of the pastoral order. If, |
j then, a country can be found where pastoral produce is j
e j spontaneously sustained by nature, as fish iu the ocean, j
e it is manifest that arable labor, being reduced to the
* production of bread food only, may condense itself to a
> very small per ceutage ef its present volume, and the :
e cultivated ground be greatly reduced in acres.
l * At present the pastoral culture of the American pen- j
pic results exclusively from
Gat tie of all kiuds, 18,378,907 !
f Horses and mules, 4,830,060 i
A Sheep, j
Swiue, 30,334,213
£ Total value. *655;883,218 !
’ It is probable that the aggregate aboriyinaJ stock of
L> the Great Plaius still exceeds in amouut the above table.
a [ It is spontaneously supported by nature, as is the ti-h of
s . the sea. Every kind of our domestic animals flourishes
er upon the Great Plains equally well with the wild ones.
c . Three tame animals may'be substituted for every wild
one, ami vast territories reoccupied, from which the wild
stock has bceu exterminated by indiscriminate slaughter
and the increase of wolves.
it, The American people are about,*thou, to inaugurate
.ici a new and immense tinier of industrial production : Pas
it, TO UAL AGKICL'I.TIH i: Its fields vv i 1 be the Great Plains
os intermediate between the oceans. Once commenced, it
lie will develop very rapidly. We trace in tbeir history the
il- ! successive inauguration aud systematic growth ot sever
b- al of these distinct orders : the tobacco culture, the rice
sg culture, the cotton culture, the immense provision etil
it- tore of cereals and Cheats, leather and wool, the gold
. culture, navigation external and internal, comuterce ex
tis | tcrual aud iuTernal, transportation by laud aud water,
>r- 1 the hemp culture, the fisheries, inanufactuies
lc- Each of these had arisen as time has tipened the tie
Be. I cesejty for each, aud noiselessly taken and filled its ap
CITY OF NININGER, DAKOTA COUNTY, MINNESOTA TERRITORY. NOVEMBER 1. 1857.
Jt|jlJSUNyj#»
ropriate place in the general economy of our industrial J
mpire. . . , #
The pastoral property transports itself on the boot,
nd finds its food ready furnished by nature. In these j
levated countries fresh meats become the preferable
ood for man to the exclusion ot bread, vegetables and j
alted articles The atmosphere of the Great Plains is j
lerpetually brilliant with the suushiue, tonic, healthy, j
nil inspiring to the temper. It corresponds with and j
iiirpasscs the historic climate of Syria and Arabia, from ,
rheucc we inherit all that is etherial and refined in our |
ystem of civilization, our religion, our sciences, our j
daphabet, our numerals, our written languages and our j
system of social manners. ]
As the site for the great central city of the ‘ Basin of
he Mississippi ’ to arise prospectively upon the develop
ments now maturing, this city has the start, the geo
graphical position, aud the existing elements with which
my rival will contend in vain. It is the focal point
where three developments, now near ripeness, will find
their river port. 1. The pastoral development. 2. The
ijold, silver and salt productions of the Sierra San Juan.
3. The continental railroad Irom the Pacific. These
[rreat fields of enterprise will all be recognized aud un-
Jerstoocl by the popular mind within the coming six
years, and will be uuder vigorous headway in ten. There
must be a great city here, such as autiquity built at the
head of the Mediterranean aud named Jerusalem, Tyre,
Alexandria and Constantinople ; such as our own peo
ple name New York, New Orleans, San Francisco, St.
Louis.
Growth of Machlnerj.
’l'is a curious chapter in modern history, the growth
of the machiue shop. Six hundred years ago, Pioger
Bacon explained the procession of the equinoxes, the
consequent necessity of the reform of the calendar,
measured the length ot the year, invented gunpowder,
and announced (as if ba king from his lofty cell over
five centuries into ours,) ‘that machines can be con
structed to drive more rapidly than a whole galley of
rowers could do ; nor would they need anything but a
pilot in steer them. Carriages also might be construct
ed to move with an incredible speed, without the use of
auy animal. Finally, it would not be impossible to
make machines, which, by means ot a suit of wings,
should fly in the air in the manner of birds.’ But the
secret slept with Bacon. The six hundred years have
not yet fulfilled his words. Two centuries ago, the saw
ing of timber was done by hand ; the carriage wheels
ran i‘U wooden axles; the laud w r as tilled by wooden
plows. And it was to little purpose that they had pit
coil, or that looms were improved, unless Watt and
Stephenson had taught them to work force pumps and
power looms by steam The great strides were all taken
within the last hundred years. The ‘Life of Sir Robert
Peel,’ who died the other day, the model Englishman,
very properly has for a frontispiece a drawing of the
spinning-jenny, which wove the web of his fortunes,
llardgveaves invented the spinning-jenny, and died in
the workhouse. Arkwright improved the invention,
and the machine dispensed with the work of ninety-nine
tneu ; that, is, one spinner could do as much work as one
hundred had done before. The loom improved further.
But the men would sometimes strike for wages, and
combine against the masters, and, about 1820-30, much
fear was felt lest the trade would be drawn away by
these interruptions, and the emigration of the apinners
: to Belgium and the United States.
Iron and steel are very obedient. Whether it were
not possible to make a spinner that would not rebel, noi
I mutter, nor scowl, nor strike for wages, nor emigrate \
; At the solicitations of the masters, after a mob and riol
at Stalybridge, Mr. Roberts, of Manchester, undertook
to create this peaceful follow, instead of the quarrelsonu
fellow God had made. After a few trials he succeeded
and, in 1830, procured a patent for hi? self-acting mule
j a creation the delight of mill owners, and ‘destined,
; they said, ‘ to restore order among the industrious class
les a machine requiring only a child’s hand to piect
the broken yarns. As Arkwright had destroyed domes
tie spiuniiig, so Roberts destroyed the factory spinner
I The power of machinery in Great Britain in mills hat
: been computed to be equai to 600,000,000 men, om
1 man being able, by the aid "f steam, to do the worl
which required 25*0 meu to accomplish fifty years ago
The production has been commensurate. England al
ready had this laborious race, rich soil, wood, coal, iroi
aud favorable climate. Eight hundred years ago, com
' mcrcc had made it rich, and it was recorded, ‘Englant
is the richest of all the northern nations.’ The Normal
' historians recite, that ‘in 1067, William carried wit!
him into Normandy from England more gold and silve
than had ever before been in Gaul.’ But when to tbi
labor, aud trade, and these native resources, was adde<
this goblin of steam, with its myriad arms, never tired
1 working night and day everlastingly, the amassing c
property has run out of all figures. It makes the moto
iof the last ninety years. The steam pipe has added t
j her population and the equivalent of four or five Enj
| lands. Forty thousand ships are entered iu Lloyd’s list
The yield of wheat has gone on from 2,000,000 quarter
in the time of the Stuarts, to 13,000,000 in 1854.
A thousand million of pounds sterling are said to coir
I pose the floating money of commerce Iu 1848, Lor
I John Russell stated that the people of this country ha
I laid out 300,000,000 of capital iu railways, in the lat
! four years. But a better measure than these soundin
i figures is the estimate, that there is wealth enough i
I England to support the entire population in idleness fc
! one year. The wise, versatile, all giving machiner
make chisels, roads, locomotives, telegraphs. Whi
| worth divides a bar to a millionth of an inch. Steal
’ twines huge cannon into wreaths, as easily as it braic
straw, and vies with the volcanic furccs which twiste
• the strata. It can clothe single mountains with ehi
i oaks, make sword blades that, will cut barrels in tw<
Iu Egypt, it can plant'furests mid bring rain after thrt
i thousand years. Already it is ruddering the ballooi
[ aud the next war will be fought in the air. But ai
• . other machine more potent iu England than steam,
the Bank. It votes an i-sue of bills, population is stirni
. la ted, and cities rise; it refuses loans, and emigrate
empties the country ; trade sinks ; revolutions brea
j out; kings are dethroned. By these now agents ot
f i social system is moulded. By dint ot steam and
I money, war and commerce are changed. Natious ha*
a * lost their old omnipotence ; the patriotic tie docs n
• j hold. Nations are getting obsolete; we go and li'
1 when- we will Steam has enabled niati to choose wh
j law they will live under. Mom y makes place for thet
Coi'WSR Mines or Arizona Between two and tbr
millions of dollars are already invested in the copp
» miue> of Arizona. The ore has bceu pronounced
>. i Loudou the richest ever sold iu that market.
j Louis
HTHE*
Si Iff
i|n|| tijLs
S@f.
joslali Hunt, the Indian Tigliter.
In searching among the records for the perfect type
»f that class of men who are pre-eminently entitled to
he cognomen of ‘ Indian fighters,’ we have been able j
o find uone iu whose individuality was combined so j
uany characteristics of the class as in the person who is j
lie subject of the following sketch
Nature had given Hunt a frame of iron mould, and a
.(institution which no hardship, privation or suffering
;ould impair. As a hunter he was rarely equaled. His
habits, his inclinations, his early life and bis necessities
ill combined to make him expert in the pursuit of game.
Adopting all the craft and cunning of the red men, to
which he added the intelligence of the pale face, lie was
alwavs successful where others would have despaired.
By constant and unremitting observation and practice
he could imitate the voices of all the denizens of the
forests, from the growl and bark of the bear to the call
of the smallest songster of the vale, and these powers
were of immense service to him in luring the game, as
well as in deceiving an enemy. As an Indian fighter
he possessed all the subtility and artifice of the foe, with
the tact, stratagem, powers of concentration and perse
vering determination of the white man. No trap, how
ever artfully and cunningly laid, ever caught him un
prepared, and the Indians themselves awarded him the
praise of being the most silent, artful and dangerous
enemy they ever met.
When Wayne was dispatched into the Northwestern
country to chastise and bring to terms the various tribes
who had leagued together with a determination to re
strict the approach of the whites to the Ohio River, be
gathered about him Hunt, and all the Indian fighters,
scouts, spies and hunters whom he could in any way in
duce to join his army.
While the army was stationed at Greenville, in the
winter of 1793-4, Hunt was employed in furnishing the
tables of the officers with game, and of course was ex
empted from every other duty. lie had a carte blanche
to go aud come when he pleased, take what he wished,
and do as he desired ; iu fact, was free of the fort iu
every aspect. The country was overrun with Indians ;
the fort was watched by scouts aud spies, who stationed
themselves in trees the better to overlook the garrison,
aud when a person was seen to leave, note was taken of
the course he pursued, his path ambuscaded, and his
scalp secured. Hunt was too cunning for them, how
ever. He invariably left after dark ; and ‘ when he got
into the woods/ he used to say, ‘ without tbeir knowl
edge, he had as good a chanee as they had.’ To spend
the uiglit in the woods without a fire, during the severe
cold of the winter, would have been almost certain death,
for no human beiDg could do it without the most im
mineut danger of freezing to death. To show a light,
however, was to invite ceriaiu destruction. Hunt did
the one without fear of the other. His mode of proce
dure was as follows : He would leave the camp about
three hours after dark, and traveling by a circuitous
route for some miles in the direction of the section
where he intended to hunt the next day, he would bivouc
[ for the night.
Ilis arrangements for this purpose were made in the
| following manner: With his tomahawk he cut a hole
; in the frozen earth about the size and depth of a hai
! crown, and after it was made to his liking, with as little
j noise as possible, he prepared some ‘roth ’ or wbite-oak
bark from a dead tree, which will retain a strong heal
when covered with its ashes Kindling a fire from Aim
and steel at the bottom of his ‘ coal pit/ as he termed
it, the bark was severed into strips, which were laic
crosswise iu the hole until it was tilled. After it was
sufficiently ignited, it was covered over with dirt, wit!
the exception of two air holes in the margin, whicl
could be opened or closed at pleasure. Spreading dowi
a layer of bark or brush to keep him from the ground
I he sat down with the coal pit between his legs, envelop
cd himself in his blanket, and slept cat-dozes in an up
right position. If his fire became too much smothered
he freshened it by blowing into oue of the air holes. Hi
declared that he could make himself sweat whenever In
chose. The snapping of a dry twig was sufficient t<
awaken him, wheu, uncovering his head, he keenly scru
tinized the surrounding gloom—his right hand on hi
trusty rifle, ‘ ready for the mischance of the hour.’
As soon as it was light enough to see, he was on hi
I feet, and, leaving his camp-ground, would proceed t
! hunt for game, keeping at the same time, a good 100 l
out for the Indians. If he discovered a deer, he wouh
slip a bullet into his mouth, to be prepared to load agaii
immediately. This was his first care, never to be caugh
with an empty rifle. After shooting his game, he seerc
ted himself until satisfied that the report of his picc
had brought no Indians into his immediate vicinity, an
he would then proceed to skin it and take it to the fori
On one of these excursions he discovered three li:
j dians in a party, proceeding along the base of a ridge o
j which he was. Quickly concealing himself, he took am
j but waited for two of them to get within range, bein
! willing to risk himself with the other. But they coi
j tinued to march iu Indian file, and although lie coul
| have killed either one of them, be concluded that th
j odds of two to oue would be too great, without guiniD
! more than the death of one enemy. So he let thet
! pass.
j When the army moved forward to the Maumee, fc
’ the purpose of giving battle to the Indians, Hunt ws
with it, and took an active part in the action at th
‘ Fallen Timber.’
In the midst of the confusion consequent upon th
first charge, he was about to spring over a fa lieu trei
when an Indian behind it fired at him so close that th
flash almost singed his face. He had been obliged I
! fire in such haste, however, that he missed his aim, a
i though the ball passed between the ear and the head <
| the hunter, making his ear ring fGr an hour afterwari
( As soon as he had fired, the Indian sprang up and dar
ed off at his utmost speed, running zig-zag ‘like tl
* worm of a fence/ dodging up and down, and endeavo
ing in every way to escape the ball from his eDemy
. rifle. He knew the man he had fired at, and he kne
j that he never missed his mark. His body was nakc
. from his waist upward, and had a bright red streu
i ; painted up and down the back, which afforded a prom
; ; nent mark for an experienced shot. Huut sprang ov<
r! the tree and threw his rifle into the hollow of his >houl<
f j or, exclaiming : * Hold on a moment, stranger, Killde
i I has got a word to say to you ; ’ aud taking aim at tl
t 1 red stripe, he seized the moment, when the Indian wi
b j rising to ilia feet and tired. Although a snap-shot,
t j was an effectual one, aud the red skin fell der,d.
. J At the treaty of Greenville, in 1;95, the Indiai
j seemed tu consider Hunt as the uext great man to Way]
e himself. They inquired for him, gathered arouud hit
r and were loud aud profuse in their praises aud comp
n I incuts : a Great man, Cnptuiu Hunt —great warrior
j good hunting tntm ; Vdinu no can kill ! They inlori
DEFECTIVE PAGE
;d hi* that some of their bravest, and most cunning j
warriors had often set out expressly to kill him. They j
jnew how he made his secret camp fires, the. ingenuity ;
if which excited their admiration. The parties in quest.
>f him had often seen him—could describe the dress he j
wore, and his cap, which was made of a raccoon’s skin, j
with the tail hanging behind, the front turned up and j
ornamented with three brass rings. The scalp of such j
i great hunter and warrior they considered to be an in-!
valuable trophy—yet they never could catch him off his j
guard —never get within shooting distance without be- j
ing discovered, and exposing themselves to his death- j
dealing rifle. He settled in Greene County, Ohio, but
afterwards removed to Indiana, where he resided until j
bis death.
A Score of Printers.
In this office are engaged twenty printers. Only look !
at them ! In ages ranging from twenty to forty : in j
size and complexion from the ordinary stout (we never
saw a fat Printer) to some that might crawl though a
greased flute, ns white as Circassions, and others brown
or rosy —as your ‘ Georgia cracker,’ or Pennsylvania
publican. Some bearded like a pard, others smooth as
the Greek Slave. One has traveled all over the North
American continent, hunted bears in Arkansas, and the
wild horses in the pampas of South America ; another
has been out on the broad ocean, and has seen life be
fore the mast; another graduated at West Point, served
in the army ; another accompanied Col Doniphan in
the Xenopliouic grand campaign all over New Mexico.
What a book he can write ! Another traveled all over
the United States several times, kept a tavern, sold goods
at auction, been well off and broken—often. Two have
been on the stage, a profession printers are much addict
led to, for about half of the Actors on the American
I board are priutera. One we believe, has preached ser
: mons; another has lectured to crowded bouses An
j other has served in Mexico with General Scott. A sixth
! has been a stump orator, member of the Legislature,
! ‘ out West,’ and iought a duel, we believe. Three have
| practiced medicine, kept store and dealt in horses, cot
i ton and negroes. Two have been municipal officers*.
! Four or five have been officers or privates iu various
! military companies. Oner served with General Houston
in the Texas Revolution, and one in the Canadian Re
bellion Six or eight have edited or published news
papers in various parts of the United States. One has
been officer of a packet on the raging canawl. One
wounded —leg off—at the storming of Monterey. An
other has clerked on a Mississippi steamer, was blown
up and slightly wounded. Some are or have been mar
ried ; some are old bachelors. All have seen more or
; less of life and its changeable scenes. They are live
men, good, practical printers, speaking various lan
guages, and form a newspaper corps hard to surpass or
equal. —(Cincinnati Unionist.
A Michigan Bed-Bug Story.
The editor ef the Grand River Eagle has a friend
who has been stopping, he alleges, at one of the hotels
at Kalamazoo. His story is pretty fairly told, and he
possesses talent in the way of spinning ‘yarns’ that
would do credit to one who has entertained his mess in
the forecastle of a whaler, or relieved the tedium of a
watch on deck
; ‘ You see I went to bed pretty all fired used up, after
a hull day on the road before the plank was laid, calka
latiug on a good snooze. Waal, just as the shivers be
gan to ease off, I kinder felt suthin’ tryin’ to pull off my
shirt, and diggin’ their feet into the small of my back,
to get a good hold. Wiggled and twisted, doubled and
puckered—all no use—kept agoing it like all sin.
Bimeby got up and struck a light to look around a spell
—found about a peck of bed-bugs scattered around, and
more dropping off my shirt, and runuin’ down my leg
every minit. Swept off a place on the floor, shook out
a quilt, lay down and kivered up for a nap. No use
—mounted right ou to me like a parcel of rata on a
meal tub—dug a hole iu the kiverlid and crawled
through, and gave me fits for tryin’ to hide. Got up
again and went down stairs, got a slush bucket from the
w'agon, made a circle of tar on the floor, lay down on
! the floor on the inside, and felt comfortable that time
| anyhow. I left the light burnin', and watched ’em, see
I 'em get together and have a camp meetin' about it, and
they- went off in a squad, with an old grey-headed one
; on the top, right up on the wall an' to the ceilin’, till
! they got to the right spot, then dropped right plump
! into iny face ! Fact, by thunder. Waal, I swept 'ena
jup again, and made a circle on the ceiling too. Though!
II had ’em foul this time; but I swan to man if thej
j didn’t pull straws out of tho hed, and built a bridge
over.’ Seeing an incredible expression on our visage
he clinched his story thus :
j ‘lt is so, whether you believe it or not, and some oi
j them walked across on stilts. Bed-bugs are cautioui
i critters and no mistake —especially the Kalamazoo kind.
| The Jews Always Remaining the Stunt
Number In the World,
The Hebrew people, remarkable all over the world foi
, their thriving peculiarity in business of a mercantile na
j ture, for they never touch agriculture, are still more re
I markable from the fact that their entire number in th<
1 world at the present is about the same as in the palmies'
days of Judea.
This fact is worthy of note in the statistics of th<
! Jewish population, and is among the most singular cir
• cumstances of the most singular of all people. Undei
* all their calamities and dispersions, they seem to hav<
» remained nearly the same amount as in the days of Davit
- and Solomon; never much less after ages of suffering.
’ Nothing like this has occurred in the history of an;
other race ; Europe in general having doubled its popu
lation within the last hundred years, and England near
' ly tripled hers within the last half century; the propor
• tion of America being still more rapid, and the worl<
5 crowding in a constantly increasing ratio. Yet the Jewi
r seem to stand still in the vast and general movement
l The population of Judea, in its most palmy days, proba
t j bly did not exceed, if it reached, four millions. Thi
j number who entered Palestine from the wilderness wer
l ' | evidently not more than three millions, and their censns
- j according to German writers, who were generally con
r ; sidered to he exact, is now nearly the same as that of th<
- ! people under Moses—about three millions, ’lhey ar
* | thus distributed ~
i j In Europe one million nine hundred and fifteen thou
jsand nine hundred, of which about six hundred an
fifty-eight thousand are in Poland and Russia, and fou
3 ! hundred and fifty-three thousand are in Austria.
* i Iu Asia, seveu hundred and thirty eight thousand, c
• which three hundred thousaud are in Asiatic Turkey-.
Iu Africa, five hundred and four thousaud, of whio
• 1 three hundred are iu Morocco.
In America, North and South, Sfty-seven thousand.
If we add to these about fifteen thousand Samaritans,
the calculations in round numbers will be about three
million one hundred and eighty thousand.
This extraordinary fixedness in the midst of almost
universal increase is doubtless not without a reason, if we
are even to look for it among the mysterious operations
which have presented Israel a separate race through
eighteen hundred years.
A Battle Incident.
At the battle of the Thames, a laughable incident oc
curred, which is thus related by one who was in the en
gagement :
‘ The British General had formed his men iu open or
der, with their cannon pointing down the road, by which
the Americans were advancing. General Harrison im
mediately took advantage of this, and ordered Col. John
son’s mounted regiment to charge at speed by heads of
companies, (so as to expose the least possible front,) pass
through the open intervals, and form in the rear of the
i British forces. This movement was brilliantly executed
i by the battalion under the command of Lieut. Col.
James Johnson, his brother, Col. R. M. Johnson, at the
same time charging the Indians with the other battalion.
It happened that in one of the companies under James
Johnson’s command there was a huge, brawny fellow,
named Lamb; he weighed about 240 pounds; was a
brave man, and as good humored as big —brave men
proverbially are. Lamb had broken down his Kentucky
horse by his great weight, and was mounted instead upon
a short, stout, wild Canadian pony; from whose sides
his long limbs depended almost to the ground, while his
bulky frame rose high above the beast —looking not un
like an overgrown boy astride of a rough sheep.
When the charge was made, Lamb’s pony took fright,
and broke into a run. Lamb pulled until the bit broke
in the animal’s mouth, and all command of him was
lost. The little pony stretched himself as to the work,
dashed out of the ranks, soon outstripped all the file
leaders, and pushed on in advance of tho company
Lamb was no longer master of his horse or himself, anu
-he was iu a quandary. If he rolled oft he would btf
trampled to death by bis friends; if the horse, rushed
upon the British lines with him, so far ahead of the rest,
he must he killed. Either way death seemed inevita
ble; and, to use his expression, he thought “he’d jist
say something they could tell his friends in Kentucky,
when they went home.”
He struck both heels into the pony’s flanks and urged
him to his utmost speed. On they drove, some fifty
yards in front of the leading file, Lambs gigantic person
swaying from side to side, and his legs swinging in a
most portentous fashion —the little Canadian ‘pulling
foot ’ all he knew how, hi* tail straight, his nostrils dis
tended, his ears pinned back, and his eyes flashing from
under their shaggy foretop, with all the spite and spleen
of a born devil. Just as he got within a stride or two
of the British, Lamb flourished his rifle and roared out
in a voice of thunder : “ Clear the way, G —d d d
you ! for I’m coming ! ”
To his surprise the lines opened right and left, and he
passed through unhurt. So great was their astonish
ment, at the strange apparition of such a rider, and such
a horse moving upon them, with furious velocity, that
they opened mechanioally at his word of command,, and
let him pass. So soon as he gained the rear of their
position, Lamb rolled on the grass, and suffered his pony
to go on his own road. A few minutes more, and he
was with his comrades securing the prisoners.*
Tub Hebrew Genealogies in TnE Bible. — Gene
sis, ch. 5. —The Rev. Dr. Cumming says, curiously, that
‘ it is a remarkable fact that the names that are given in
this chapter of memoirs and epitaphs, when literally
translated from the Hebrew contain a prophecy of the
Gospel of Christ, each one conveying a great and bless
ed truth.
Adam is the first name, which means, “ man, in the
image of God; ” Seth, “ substituted by; ” Enos, “ frial
man; ” Cainan, “ lamenting; ” Mahalaleel, “ the bless
ed God; ” Jared, “ shall come down; ” Enoch, “ teach
ing ; ” Methuselah, “ his death shall send; ” Lamech,
“to the humble; ” Noah, “ rest,” or “ consolation.
It is thus if you take the whole of the names, and
simply in the order in which they are recorded you have
| this truth stated by them :
“To man, once made in the image of God, now sub
| stituted by roan, frail and full of sorrow, the blessed
• God himself shall come down to the earth teaching, and
! his death shall send to the humble consolation.”
r This is just an epitome of Christianity.’
How to do op Shirt Bosoms. —We have often been
’ requested by lady correspondents to state by what pro
f cess the gloss on new linen shirt-bosoms, etc., is pro
, duced, and in order to gratify them we subjoin the fol
i lowing recipe; Take two ounces of fine white gum
arsbic powder—put it in a pitcher, and pour on a pint
, or more of boiling water, according to the degree ot
strength you require—and then having covered it, let it
stand all night—in the morning pour it carefully from
r tho dregs into a clean bottle, oork it, and keep it for use.
■ A tablespoonful of gum-water stirred in a pint of starch,
■ made in the usual manner, will give to lawn, either
5 white or printed, a look of newness, when nothing else
t can restore them after they have been washed.
• Small Pox. —BalVa Journal of Health has the fol
- lowing: ‘From extended and close observation, the
r following general deductions seem to be warrented
; 1. Infantile vaccination is an almost perfeot safeguard,
1 until the fourteenth year. 2. At the beginning of four
teen, the system gradually loses its capability of resist
f ancc, until about twenty-one, when many persons become
• almost ss liable to small pox, as if tboy had not been
- vaccinated. 3. This liability remains in full force un
• til about forty-two, when the susceptibility begins to de-
I dine, and continues for seven years to grow less and
i less, becoming extinct at about fifty, the period of life
• when the general revolution of the body begins to take
-! place, during which the system yields to decay, or takes
9 j a new lease of life for two or three terms, of seven years
9 ; each. 4. The great praotioal use to be made of these
» statements isLet every youth be re-vaocinated on en
*! tering fourteen ; let several attempts be made so as to
9j be certain of safety. As the malady is more liable to
® i prevail in cities during winter, special attention is in-
I vited to the subject at this time.’
,-j . .
II The cholera continues to make numerous victims at
r Stockholm. At Upsal it is so bad that desolation and
panic prevail, and at Cbristiansund 300 person have
if been carried off. In Norway, also, it is oommitting sad
| ravages. It has broken out with great violence at Kon
b | igsberg, attacking its victims without sny premonitory,
j symptoms.' Most of the cases prove fatal.
NUMBER 12.