Journeying West Before 1840

This is from Women on the American Frontier.  You can find a text copy 

of this book at the project Gutenburg site here.



Among the chapters of accident and casualty which make up the respective

diaries of the families who left their eastern homes after the Revolution

and joined the ranks of the Western immigrants there is none more

interesting than that of Mrs. Jameson. She was the child of wealthy

parents, and had been reared in luxury in the city of New York. Soon after

peace was declared she was married to Edward Jameson, a brave soldier in

the war, who had nothing but his stout arms and intrepid heart to battle

with the difficulties of life. Her father, dying soon after, his estate was

discovered to have been greatly lessened by the depreciation in value which

the war had produced. Gathering together the remains of what was once a

large fortune, the couple purchased the usual outfit of the emigrants of

that period and set out to seek their fortunes in the West.



All went well with them until they reached the Alleghany River, which they

undertook to cross on a raft. It was the month of May; the river had been

swollen by rains, and when they reached the middle of the stream, the part

of the raft on which Mr. Jameson sat became detached, the logs separated,

and he sank to rise no more. The other section of the raft, containing Mrs.

Jameson, her babe of eight months, and a chest of clothing and household

gear, floated down-stream at the mercy of the rapid current.



Bracing herself against the shock, Mrs. Jameson managed to paddle to the

side of the river from which she had just before started. She was landed

nearly a mile below the point where had been left the cattle, and also the

ox-cart in which their journey had been hitherto performed, and which her

husband expected to carry over the river on the raft, returning for them as

soon as his wife and babe had been safely landed on the western bank. The

desolate mother succeeded in mooring the remains of the raft to the shore;

then clasping her babe to her bosom, followed the bank of the river till

she reached the oxen and cart, which she drove down to the place where she

landed, and by great exertions succeeded in hauling the chest upon the

bank. Her strength was now exhausted, and, lying down in the bottom of the

cart, she gave way to grief and despair.



Her situation may be easily imagined: alone in the forest, thirty miles

from the nearest settlement, her husband torn from her in a moment, and her

babe smiling as though he would console his mother for her terrible loss.

In her sad condition self-preservation would have been too feeble a motive

to impel her to make any further effort to save herself; but maternal

love--the strongest instinct in a woman's heart--buoyed her up and

stimulated her to unwonted exertions.



The spot where she found herself was a dense forest, stretching back to a

rocky ledge on the east, and terminated on the north by an alluvial meadow

nearly bare of trees. Along the banks of the river was a thick line of high

bushes and saplings, which served as a screen against the observations of

savages passing up and down the river in their canoes. The woods were just

bursting into leaf; the spring-flowers filled the air with odor, and

chequered the green foliage and grass; the whole scene was full of vernal

freshness, life, and beauty. The track which the Jamesons had followed was

about midway between the northern and southern routes generally pursued by

emigrants, and it was quite unlikely that others would cross the river at

that point. The dense jungle that skirted the river bank was an impediment

in the way of reaching the settlements lower down, and there was danger of

being lost in the woods if the unfortunate woman should start alone.



"On this spot," she said, "I must remain till some one comes to my help."



The first two years of her married life had been spent on a farm in

Westchester County, New York, where she had acquired some knowledge of

farming and woodcraft, by assisting her husband in his labors, or by

accompanying him while hunting and fishing. She was strong and healthy; and

quite, unlike her delicate sisters of modern days, her lithe frame was

hardened by exercise in the open air, and her face was tinged by the kisses

of the sun.



Slowly recovering from the terrible anguish of her loss, she cast about for

shelter and sustenance. The woods were swarming with game, both large and

small, from the deer to the rabbit, and from the wild turkey to the quail.

The brooks were alive with trout. The meadow was well suited for Indian

corn, wheat, rye, or potatoes. The forest was full of trees of every

description. To utilize all these raw materials was her study.



A rude hut, built of boughs interlaced, and covered thickly with leaves and

dry swamp grass, was her first work. This was her kitchen. The cart, which

was covered with canvas, was her sleeping-room. A shotgun, which she had

learned the use of, enabled her to keep herself supplied with game. She

examined her store of provisions, consisting of pork, flour, and Indian

meal, and made an estimate that they would last eight months, with prudent

use. The oxen she tethered at first, but afterwards tied the horns to one

of their fore feet, and let them roam. The two cows having calved soon

after, she kept them near at hand by making a pen for the calves, who by

their bleating called their mothers from the pastures on the banks of the

river. In the meadow she planted half an acre of corn and potatoes, which

soon promised an amazing crop.



Thus two months passed away. In her solitary and sad condition she was

cheered by the daily hope that white settlers would cross her track or see

her as they passed up and down the river. She often thought of trying to

reach a settlement, but dreaded the dangers and difficulties of the way.

Like the doe which hides her fawn in the secret covert, this young mother

deemed herself and her babe safer in this solitude than in trying unknown

perils, even with the chance of falling in with friends. She therefore

contented herself with her lot, and when the toils of the day were over,

she would sit on the bank and watch for voyagers on the river. Once she

heard voices in the night on the river, and going to the bank she strained

her eyes to gaze through the darkness and catch sight of the voyagers; she

dared not hail them for fear they might be Indians, and soon the voices

grew fainter in the distance, and she heard them no more. Again, while

sitting in a clump of bushes on the bank one day, she saw with horror six

canoes with Indians, apparently directing their course to the spot where

she sat. They were hideously streaked with war-paint, and came so near that

she could see the scalping knives in their girdles. Turning their course as

they approached the eastern shore they silently paddled down stream,

scanning the hanks sharply as they floated past. Fortunately they saw

nothing to attract their attention; the cart and hut being concealed by the

dense bushes, and there being no fire burning.



Fearing molestation from the Indians, she now moved her camp a hundred rods

back, near a rocky ledge, from the base of which flowed a spring of pure

water. Here, by rolling stones in a circle, she made an enclosure for her

cattle at night, and within in it built a log cabin of rather frail

construction; another two weeks was consumed in these labors, and it was

now the middle of August.



At night she was at first much alarmed by the howling of wolves, who came

sniffing round the cart where she slept. Once a large grey wolf put its

paws upon the cart and poked its nose under the canvas covering, but a

smart blow on the snout drove it yelping away. None of the cattle were

attacked, owing to the bold front showed to these midnight intruders. The

wolf is one of the most cowardly of wild beasts, and will rarely attack a

human being, or even an ox, unless pressed by hunger, and in the winter.

Often she caught glimpses of huge black bears in the swamps, while she was

in pursuit of wild turkeys or other game; but these creatures never

attacked her, and she gave them a wide berth.



One hot day in August she was gathering berries on the rocky ledge beside

which her house was situated, when seeing a clump of bushes heavily loaded

with the finest blackberries, she laid her babe upon the ground, and

climbing up, soon filled her basket with the luscious fruit. As she

descended she saw her babe sitting upright and gazing with fixed eyeballs

at some object near by; though what it was she could not clearly make out,

on account of an intervening shrub. Hastening down, a sight met her eyes

that froze her blood. An enormous rattlesnake was coiled within three feet

of her child, and with its head erect and its forked tongue vibrating, its

burning eyes were fixed upon those of the child, which sat motionless as a

statue, apparently fascinated by the deadly gaze of the serpent.



Seizing a stick of dry wood she dealt the reptile a blow, but the stick

being decayed and brittle, inflicted little injury on the serpent, and only

caused it to turn itself towards Mrs. Jameson, and fix its keen and

beautiful, but malignant eyes, steadily upon her. The witchery of the

serpent's eyes so irresistibly rooted her to the ground, that for a moment

she did not wish to remove from her formidable opponent.



The huge reptile gradually and slowly uncoiled its body; all the while

steadily keeping its eye fixed on its intended victim. Mrs. Jameson could

only cry, being unable to move, "Oh God! preserve me! save me, heavenly

Father!" The child, after the snake's charm was broken, crept to her mother

and buried its little head in her lap.



We continue the story in Mrs. Jameson's own words:--



"The snake now began to writhe its body down a fissure in the rock, keeping

its head elevated more than a foot from the ground. Its rattle made very

little noise. It every moment darted out its forked tongue, its eyes became

reddish and inflamed, and it moved rather quicker than at first. It was now

within two yards of me. By some means I had dissipated the charm, and,

roused by a sense of my awful danger, determined to stand on the defensive.

To run away from it, I knew would be impracticable, as the snake would

instantly dart its whole body after me. I therefore resolutely stood up,

and put a strong glove on my right hand, which I happened to have with me.

I stretched out my arm; the snake approached slowly and cautiously towards

me, darting out its tongue still more frequently. I could now only

recommend myself fervently to the protection of Heaven. The snake, when

about a yard distant, made a violent spring. I quickly caught it in my

right hand, directly under its head; it lashed its body on the ground, at

the same time rattling loudly. I watched an opportunity, and suddenly

holding the animal's head, while for a moment it drew in its forked tongue,

with my left hand I, by a violent contraction of all the muscles in my

hand, contrived to close up effectually its jaws!



"Much was now done, but much more was to be done. I had avoided much

danger, but I was still in very perilous circumstances. If I moved my right

hand from its neck for a moment, the snake, by avoiding suffocation, could

easily muster sufficient power to force its head out of my hand; and if I

withdrew my hand from its jaws, I should be fatally in the power of its

most dreaded fangs. I retained, therefore, my hold with both my hands; I

drew its body between my feet, in order to aid the compression and hasten

suffocation. Suddenly, the snake, which had remained quiescent for a few

moments, brought up its tail, hit me violently on the head, and then darted

its body several times very tightly around my waist. Now was the very acme

of my danger. Thinking, therefore, that I had sufficient power over its

body, I removed my right hand from its neck, and in an instant drew my

hunting-knife. The snake, writhing furiously again, darted at me; but,

striking its body with the edge of the knife, I made a deep cut, and before

it could recover its coil, I caught it again by the neck; bending its head

on my knee, and again recommending myself fervently to Heaven, I cut its

head from its body, throwing the head to a great distance. The blood

spouted violently in my face; the snake compressed its body still tighter,

and I thought I should be suffocated on the spot, and laid myself down. The

snake again rattled its tail and lashed my feet with it. Gradually,

however, the creature relaxed its hold, its coils fell slack around me, and

untwisting it and throwing it from me as far as I was able, I sank down and

swooned upon the bank.



"When consciousness returned, the scene appeared like a terrible dream,

till I saw the dead body of my reptile foe and my babe crying violently and

nestling in my bosom. The ledge near which my cabin was built was infested

with rattlesnakes, and the one I had slain seemed to be the patriarch of a

numerous family. From that day I vowed vengeance against the whole tribe of

reptiles. These creatures were in the habit of coming down to the spring to

drink, and I sometimes killed four or five in a day. Before the summer was

over I made an end of the whole family."



In September, two households of emigrants floating down the river on a

flatboat, caught sight of Mrs. Jameson as she made a signal to them from

the bank, and coming to land were pleased with the country, and were

persuaded to settle there. The little community was now swelled to fifteen,

including four women and six children. The colony throve, received

accessions from the East, and, surviving all casualties, grew at last into

a populous town. Mrs. Jameson was married again to a stalwart backwoodsman

and became the mother of a large family. She was always known as the

"Mother of the Alleghany Settlement."

Posted by: Mrs. Stone / 1:27 PM