William Folsom - Fifty Years In The Northwest

My original plan on leaving Maine was to make a prospecting tour through the West and South. I had been in Prairie du Chien for a season, and as soon as my contract to cut hay for the fort and my harvesting work was done. I started, with two of my comrades, in a birch bark canoe for New Orleans. This mode of traveling proving slow and tedious, after two days, on our arrival at Dubuque, we sold our canoe and took passage on the steamer Smelter for St. Louis, which place we reached on the seventeenth of October. We remained five days, stopping at the Union Hotel. St. Louis was by far the finest and largest city I had yet seen in the West. Its levee was crowded with drays and other vehicles and lined with steamers and barges. Its general appearance betokened prosperity. On the twenty-second, I left on the steamer George Collier for New Orleans, but the yellow fever being reported in that city, I remained several days at Baton Rouge. On the second of November I re-embarked for New Orleans, where I found a lodging at the Conti Street Hotel. New Orleans was even then a large and beautiful city. Its levee and streets were remarkable for their cleanness, but seemed almost deserted. Owing to a recent visitation of the yellow fever and the financial crisis of 1837, business was almost suspended. These were hard times in New Orleans. Hundreds of men were seeking employment, and many of them were without money or friends. It was soon very evident to me that I had come to a poor place to better my fortunes. After a thorough canvass, I found but one situation vacant, and that was in a drinking saloon, and was not thought of for an instant. I remained fifteen days, my money gradually diminishing, when I concluded to try the interior. I took steamer for Vicksburg, and thence passed up the Yazoo to Manchester, where I spent two days in the vain search for employment, offering to do any kind of work. I was in the South, where the labor was chiefly done by negroes. I was friendless and without letters of recommendation, and for a man under such circumstances to be asking for employment was in itself a suspicious circumstance. I encountered everywhere coldness and distrust. I returned to Vicksburg, and, fortunately, had still enough money left to secure a deck passage to the North, but was obliged to live sparingly, and sleep without bedding. I kept myself somewhat aloof from the crew and passengers. The captain and clerk commented on my appearance, and were, as I learned from a conversation that I could not help but overhear, keeping a close eye upon me for being so quiet and restrained. It was true that the western rivers were infested with desperate characters, gamblers and thieves such as the Murrell gang. Might I not be one of them. I was truly glad when, on the fifth of December, we landed at St. Louis. It seemed nearer my own country; but finding no employment there, I embarked on the steamer Motto for Hennepin, Illinois, where I found occasional employment cutting timber. There was much talk here of the Murrell gang, then terrorizing the country; and I have good reason to believe that some of them at that time were in Hennepin. After remaining about two months, I left, on foot, valise in hand or strapped upon my back, with J. Simpson, for Galena, which place we reached in four days. Finding here Mr. Putnam, with a team, I went up with him on the ice to Prairie du Chien, where, after an absence of five months of anxiety, suspense and positive hardships, I was glad to find myself once more among friends.

During the summer of 1838 I cultivated a farm. I had also a hay contract for the fort. My partner was James C. Bunker. I had worked hard and succeeded in raising a good crop, but found myself in the fall the victim of bilious fever and ague. I continued farming in 1839 and furnishing hay to the fort, but continued to suffer with chills and fever. Myself and partner were both affected, and at times could scarcely take care of ourselves. Help could not be obtained, but ague comes so regularly to torture its victims that, knowing the exact hour of its approach, we could prepare in advance for it, and have our water, gruel, boneset and quinine ready and within reach. We knew when we would shake, but not the degree of fever which would follow. The delirium of the fever would fill our minds with strange fancies. On one occasion I came home with the ague fit upon me, hitched my horses with wagon attached to a post and went into the house. Banker had passed the shaking stage, and was delirious. I threw myself on the bed, and the fever soon following, I knew nothing till morning, when I found the team still hitched to the post, and, in their hunger, eating it.

In November of this year I made a somewhat perilous trip with team to Fort Winnebago, at the portage of the Fox and Wisconsin rivers. The weather was cold and the military road, much of the distance, covered with snow. There was scarcely a trail over the rolling prairie to guide me. Exposure brought on the chills as I was returning. Fatigued, sick and suffering, I coiled myself on the top of the load. The second day, as the sun was setting, I came in sight of Parish's Grove, but the horses were unwilling to obey my guidance. Coming to a fork in the road they insisted on going to the right. I pulled them to the left. Had I been guided by their "horse sense" they would have brought me in a few moments to the door of Parish's hotel. As it was, I drove on until far in the night, when we came to a steep hill, two steep for descent in the wagon. I unhitched the team, loaded them with the portable things in the wagon to keep them from the wolves that were howling around, mounted one of the horses and descended the hill and found myself at Parish's door, the very place I had been trying to find for a day and a night. Lieut. Caldwell, quartermaster at Fort Crawford, received the load, and learning something of the perils of the journey, gave me eighty dollars instead of the forty he had promised.

During the spring and summer of 1840, I fulfilled heavy hay and wood contracts for the fort, and in the autumn of that year concluded to revisit my early home in Maine. I set out September 23d, and reached Chicago in seven days, traveling with a team. I traveled thence by steamer to Buffalo, by canal boat to Rochester, by railroad and stage to Albany and Boston, by railroad to Lowell, and by stage to Tamworth, New Hampshire. After spending four years amidst the prairies of the West it was indeed a pleasure to look again upon the grand ranges of mountains in this part of New England. When eleven years of age I had lived where I could look upon these mountains, and now to their grandeur was added the charm of old association. I looked with pleasure once more upon "Old Ossipee," Coroway Peak, and White Face. Time had written no changes upon these rugged mountains. There were cottages and farms on the mountain side. Sparkling rivulets gleamed in the sunlight, as they found their way, leaping from rock to rock, to the valleys beneath. Tamworth is situated on beautiful ridges amongst these mountain ranges. Near this place is the old family burying ground containing the graves of my grand parents and other near relatives. These mountain peaks seemed to stand as sentinels over their last resting place. I remained at Tamworth a short time, visited the graves of my kindred, and on October 20th pursued my journey to Bloomfield, Maine, my old home. I found great changes. Some kind friends remained, but others were gone. The old home was changed and I felt that I could not make my future home here. The great West seemed more than ever attractive. There would I build my home, and seek my fortune. I found here one who was willing to share that home and whatever fortune awaited me in the West. On January 1st I was married to Mary J. Wyman, by Rev. Arthur Drinkwater, who gave us good counsel on the eve of our departure to a new and still wilderness country. On February 16th we bade adieu to our friends in Maine, visited awhile at Tamworth, and March 20th reached Prairie du Chien, having traveled by private conveyance, stage and steamer, passing through New Haven, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Frederick City, Maryland, over the National road to Wheeling, Virginia, by steamer down the Ohio and up the Mississippi to our destination. Here we made our home until the autumn of 1845, I continuing in the business in which I had been previously engaged. At this time a failure in my wife's health rendered a change of climate necessary.