FLOATING down the Great River, "the Father of Rivers," between Indian camps, fires, boats, Indians standing or leaping, and shouting, or rather yelling, upon the shores; funeral erections on the heights; between vine-clad islands, and Indian canoes paddling among them! I would yet retain these strange foreign scenes; but I proceed onward, passing them by. We leave this poetical wilderness, the region of the youthful Mississippi, and advance toward that of civilization. The weather is mild, the sun and the shade sport among the mountains--a poetical, romantic life!

Oct. 25th. Sunbright, but cold. The Indians have vanished. We have passed the "Prairie du Chien;" the idol-stone of the red Indian; the Indian graves under the autumnally yellow trees. The hills shine out, of a splendid yellow-brown. The ruins and the pyramids of primeval ages stand forth gloomy and magnificent amid the brilliant forests. With every bend of the river new and astonishing prospects present themselves. I contemplate them, read Emerson's Essays, and live as at a festival. We approach the commencement of two towns on the shore of Iowa, Gottenborg, a descendant, as I imagine, of our Götheborg, and Dubuque.

Oct. 27th. Again at Galena, among the lead mines, for a couple of days. It is Sunday, and I am returned from church, where I have heard a young Presbyterian minister, of the Presbyterian Church, Mr. Magoon. A true disciple of the Great West! No narrow evangelical views. No, an evangelical consciousness as wide as the Western prairies, as vast as the arch of heaven which spans them, and with breathing-room for the fresh winds of infinity.

The young minister's theme was the relationship which exists between a cultivated and a religious life.

The importance of a true philosophy in the doctrines of religion, in order the better to understand and to develop them.

The importance of the development of physical life in promoting the advance of spiritual life.

God's guiding hand in the awakening of all this, both in society and the Church, was shown by him in an animated and earnest manner.

Job said, "He says to the lightning, go! And it goeth!"

The electric telegraph is the lightning of God's finger, made subservient to man.

Philosophy is God's light in reason, illumining the darkness both of reason and of the Scriptures.

"It is thus that a metaphysical distinction may save a soul."

I could but think, on hearing this, of H. Martensen's dialectical gifts of God!

Lastly; the union of the highest life of the head and the heart, operating in and explanatory of all spheres of life, as they exist in the Church of the Millennium. These were the principal topics in the sermon of this young minister.

An earnest prayer, full of purport, on the prayer "Thy Kingdom Come," completed the whole service; one of the most liberal and comprehensive, one of the freshest and most refreshing which I have heard from the pulpit of any country.

A tirade against Catholicism was the only feature in it to be regretted, because it does not become the Great West to exclude any form of the divine life. And what, indeed, are all the various Christian communities other than various pews in the same church, dividing the whole into groups of families or relations?

The old Pilgrim Church seems to me now to be the one which exhibits most indwelling life, which grows and expands itself to embrace the whole of human life, and to baptize it to the kingdom of God.

Oct. 29th. I have established myself excellently at the American Hotel, and I do not intend, during the few days that I shall remain here, to accept the kind invitation which I have received to a beautiful private home. I have here my nice little Irish maid, Margaret, and have every thing exactly as I wish-- among the rest, potatoes, morning, noon, and night, quite as good as our Aersta potatoes. I enjoy my freedom and my solitary rambles over the hills round the town during these fine days.

Yesterday, the agreeable, liberal-minded young minister, Mr. Magoon, drove me and a lady, a friend of his, to a height--Pilot Knob, I think it is called--by the Mississippi, from which we were to see the sun set. Arrived there, we clambered up among bushes, and long grass, and stones--difficult enough; and obtained, when we had gained the summit, one of those ocean-like land views which the Great West only presents. And through that infinite billowy plain rolled the Mississippi, like a vein of silver, far, far away into the immeasurable distance; and over land and river reposed the misty veil of the Indian summer, and its inexpressible, gentle peace. The sun had just set; but a roseate glow lay like a joyful benediction over that vast fertile region. It was indescribably grand and pleasant.

I thought how a year ago, at this season, my spirit had been depressed at New York; how, later, it darkened still   [p. 66]   more for me at Boston, and how I then thought, "Shall I be able to endure it?" And now I stood serene and vigorous by the Mississippi, with the Great West open before me, with a rich future, and the whole world bright!

I thanked God!

On our return to Galena, the carriage broke down. The young clergyman sprang out, pulled forth some rope and a knife, and began to work in good earnest, as he said, merrily, "You must know, Miss Bremer, that coach-building belongs, here in the West, to our theology."

The emigrants to the West must, to a certain degree, experience the trouble and the renunciation of the early Pilgrim Fathers. And in order to succeed, they require their courage and perseverance.

But people pass through these necessary stages much more quickly now than they did then. The beautiful, excellent American homes, with verandas, and trees, and gardens, which begin to adorn the hills round Five River, prove this. The good home, and the church, and the labors of Christian love, encroach daily more and more upon the fields and the life of heathenism. I do not now mean of the Indian, but of the white man.

I shall to-day go on board the good steam-boat Minnesota, to descend the Mississippi as far as St. Louis. Perhaps I may make a pause by the way, at the town of Rock Island, to visit the Swedish settlement of Eric Jansen, at Bishop's Hill, a few miles from the town.

Among the agreeable memories of my stay at Galena, I shall long retain that of a banker, Mr. H., who showed me so much kindness, such brotherly or fatherly consideration and care for me, that I shall ever think of him and of his city with gratitude.

The newspapers of the West are making themselves merry over the rapturous reception which the people of New York have given Jenny Lind. In one newspaper article I read:

"Our correspondent has been fortunate enough to hear Jenny Lind--sneeze. The first sneezing was a mezzotinto soprano, &c., &c. ;" here follow many absurd musical and art terms; "the second was, &c., &c. ;" here follow the same; "the third he did not hear, as he fainted."

I can promise the good Western people that they will become as insane with rapture as their brethren of the East, if Jenny Lind should come hither. They now talk like the Fox about the Grapes, but with better temper.

One of the inhabitants of St. Paul's, who had been at New York, returned there before I left. He had some business with Governor Ramsay, but his first words to this gentlemen were, "Governor! I have heard Jenny Lind!"

Jenny Lind, the new Slave Bill, and the protests against it in the North, Eastern, and Western States, are, as well as the Spiritual Rappings or Knockings, the standing topics of the newspapers.

While people in the Northern States hold meetings and agitate against this bill, which allows the recapture of fugitive slaves in the free states, various of the Southern States, especially the Palmetto State and Mississippi, raise an indignant cry against the infringement of the rights of the South, and threaten to dissolve the Union. And the states compliment each other in their newspapers in any thing but a polite manner. A Kentucky journal writes thus of South Carolina:

"Why has she not marched out of the Union before now? The Union would be glad to be rid of such a baggage!"

We are lying before Rock Island. Some kind and agreeable gentlemen have just been on board, with a proposal to convey me to the Swedish settlement. I can not be other than grateful to them for their kindness and good-will; but the nights are becoming cold; I am not   [p. 68]   quite well, and--what should I do there? We, my countrymen and myself, should not understand one another, although we might speak the same language. But I was well pleased to gain intelligence from these gentlemen, merchants of Rock Island, regarding the present condition of the Swedes in the colony.

Since the death of the bishop, as they called Eric Jansen, they have gone on more prosperously. He, however, by his bad management, left them burdened by a large debt of ten or eleven thousand dollars, and some of them are now gone to California to get gold, to endeavor by that means to liquidate it. Some of the Swedes at Bishop's Hill have unremittingly proved themselves to be honest, pious, and industrious people, and as such they have the confidence of the inhabitants of the town (Rock Island), and obtain on credit the goods for which they are at present unable to pay. They have built several handsome brick houses for themselves, and manage their land well. They have begun to grow and to spin flax, and they derive an income from the linen thread they have thus to sell. They continue steadfast in their religious usages, their prayers, and their faith in Eric Jansen, who seems to have had almost a demoniacal power over their minds. When they were ill and did not recover by the remedies and prayers of Eric Jansen, he told them that it was owing to their want of faith in him, and because they were reprobate sinners. Many died victims to the diseases of the climate, and for want of proper care.

The respectable and agreeable man, who was well acquainted with the Swedish colony, would not say any thing decidedly against Eric Jansen, nevertheless he doubted him; on the contrary, he praised Eric Jansen's wife as being very excellent and agreeable. She also had died of one of those fevers which raged in the colony; and four days afterward, Eric Jansen stood up during divine service in the church and declared that "the Spirit had   [p. 69]   commanded him to take a new wife!" And a woman present stood up also and said, that "the Spirit had made known to her that she must become his wife!" This was four days after the death of the first excellent wife. Such a proceeding elucidates the spirit which guided Eric Jansen.

His murderer, the Swede Rooth, will be tried in the morning. It is believed that he will be acquitted, as the occasion of the deed was such as might well drive a man mad. Rooth had married a girl in the Swedish colony, contrary to the wishes of Eric Jansen. Persecuted by the enmity of Jansen, it was Rooth's intention to leave the place, and accordingly he had privately sent off his wife and child, a little boy, in the night. They were pursued by order of Jansen, captured, and conveyed in a boat down the Mississippi, no one knew where; it is said to St. Louis. Captain Schneidan saw Rooth on the very morning when the intelligence of this reached him. He was pale and scarcely in his right senses. In this excited state of mind he hastened to Eric Jansen, whom he met just setting off to church in the midst of his followers. He thus addressed him:

"You have had my wife and child carried off, I know not where. They are perhaps dead, and I may never see them more! I do not care to live any longer myself, but you shall die first!" And, so saying, he drew forth a pistol and shot him in the breast. Eric Jansen died almost in a moment. Rooth made no attempt to fly, but allowed himself to be seized by the exasperated people.

The little colony amounts to between seven and eight hundred persons, and is now under the government of two men whom they have selected, and they continue to hold the same religious faith in freedom from sin as during the life of their first leader. Taken abstractedly, their faith is not erroneous. The new man does not sin; but then they overlook the fact that sin is never perfectly eradicated   [p. 70]   from the human heart here on earth, and that, therefore, we must always remain sinful creatures till the time of our conversion arrives. The principal error of the Swedish emigrants consists in their faith in the sinner Eric Jansen, and in sinners such as themselves.

The weather is wet and chilly. The scenery of the banks is still of a highland character, but decreases in magnificence and beauty. The hills are broken up, as it were, and lie scattered over the prairies, which terminate with the river. White towns and churches shine out here and there along the shores. We are here on the shore of Illinois. Rock Island is situated at the outlet of the Illinois into the Mississippi. On the opposite side lies the State of Iowa, and there shines out white and lovely the little city of Davenport, which derives its name from its founder, and its celebrity from a horrible murder committed there on the person of an old man, one Sunday morning, by four young men, for his money. It is not long since. Bloody deeds have happened and still happen on the banks of the Mississippi.

November 3d. We steam down the Mississippi but slowly. The steamer drags along with her two huge barks or flat-boats, laden probably with lead from Galena, one on each side of the vessel. They say that these are a means of safety in case any accident should befall the steamer, and her passengers thus be in danger; they might then save themselves in the flat-boats. But they make the voyage very slow, and in the night I hear such extraordinary noises, thunderings and grindings in the vessel, as if it were panting, bellowing, and groaning under its heavy labor, and were ready to give up the ghost. These are probably occasioned by its hard work with the flat-boats. But it is not agreeable, and the sound is so dreadful at night that I always lie down dressed, ready to show myself in public in case of an explosion. Such misadventures are of every-day occurrence on the Mississippi, and   [p. 71]   one hears frequently of such also on other rivers and on the lakes of this country. Several of the passengers on board have with them life-preservers, belts or girdles of caoutchouc, to save them in case of danger. I have none; I have here neither an intimate acquaintance nor friend, who would put forth his hand to me in a moment of danger. But I know not how it is; I feel as if there were no need for fear. Only I am always prepared for a nocturnal "start."

The captain of the steamer is evidently a prudent general, and all goes on calmly and well. The table is abundant and excellent. The only thing that I feel the want of is milk for coffee and tea; cream is a thing not to be thought of, and is seldom met with any where in this country. One must learn to dispense with milk on one's river voyages in the West and South. I can manage to swallow coffee without milk; but it is almost impossible for me to take tea without it. I made a little complaint about it at tea last evening.

"Well!" said a Colonel Baxter, an excellent man, opposite to me, "we frequently did not taste milk for many weeks together during the Mexican war!"

"Oh!" said I, "but then you had glory to console yourselves with. What can not people dispense with when they have that! But here in a steam-boat, without glory and without. milk! it is too much!"

They laughed, and this morning we had plenty of milk to breakfast.

The greater number of the attendants are negroes. The stewardess is a mulatto, neither agreeable nor good tempered. There are not many passengers in the better part of the vessel, and by no means disagreeable. The gentlemen's side is rather full; two thirds of these have a somewhat common appearance; they are "businessmen" from head to foot.

I spend most of my time in my pleasant little state-   [p. 72]   room, or in walking backward and forward under the piazza in front of it, where I amuse myself by the spectacle of the river and its shores. The waters of the Mississippi still retain their bright yellow-green color, though they are beginning to be turbid. Three-decked steamers, large and small, with their pair of chimneys, puffing out vehemently under the influence of "high pressure" as they advance up the stream, speed past us; vast timber-floats, upon which people both build and cook, row down the stream with gigantic oars; covered barks, vessels, and boats of every description and size are seen upon the river. It becomes more animated and broader, but still continues to flow on with a majestic calmness.

On our right lies the State of Iowa; Illinois on the left. The views are grand and extensive; broad stretches of valley expand; the hills become lower; the land, to a great distance, slopes gradually down to the river in gentle, billowy meadows, with a background of wood. It has a beautiful and fertile appearance, but is not much cultivated. We are now in the corn regions of the Mississippi Valley; rich in all kinds of grain, but principally in the rich golden-yellow maize.

Along the Mississippi, through its whole extent, from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico, lies a pearl-band of states. There are on the eastern side of the river Wisconsin, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, and Louisiana; and on the western side, Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, and Louisiana, for, like Minnesota, Louisiana embraces both banks of the Mississippi; Minnesota at its commencement among the hills, Louisiana at its outlet into the sea. Between these two states, Minnesota in the north, and Louisiana in the south, flows the Mississippi, through a variety of regions distinguished by dissimilar climates and natural productions. Minnesota is its north, with the pine forests of the North, and Northern winters, with bears and elks, with the wild roses and the berries   [p. 73]   of the North, with primeval forests and Indians. Wisconsin, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee in the east, Iowa and Missouri, and a part of Arkansas in the west, are situated within the temperate zone. Agriculture and civilization are extending there. These states, like their neighboring states in the East, Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio, constitute the great corn magazine of America, and the central portion of the Mississippi Valley. Beyond these, to the east, extend the Alleghany Mountains, and the Eastern or Atlantic States. Beyond the Mississippi States, to the west, extends the Indian wilderness, Nebraska, and the Rocky Mountains. With Tennessee on the east, and Arkansas on the west, we enter the region of cotton; with Louisiana, the region of sugar, the south, and summer life.

Illinois and Iowa are still free states; to the south of these lie the Slave States. In Illinois and Iowa there are Swedish and Norwegian settlements, but further south they have not yet advanced. The central Mississippi States are occupied more by Germans and Irish; and more southern still, by French and Spaniards. All these are governed by the laws and manners of the Anglo-Norman race. It is the same with the Jews, who are very numerous in America, especially in the West. But they also enjoy all civil rights like natives of the country, and are much less distinguished from the European population here than they are in Europe; so little, indeed, that I have scarcely ever thought "that is a Jew," it being hardly possible to distinguish a Jew in this country from a dark-complexioned American.

We are now within sight of Nauvoo, formerly the capital of the Mormon district, and the magnificent ruin of their former temple is seen standing on its elevated site. One of my friends, who some years ago was traveling on the Mississippi, went on shore at Nauvoo, a few days after the Mormon prophet, Joe Smith, was killed by the people   [p. 74]   of Illinois. He saw the people of the town and the district, a population of about twenty thousand, come forth from their dwellings to the singing of psalms; saw them advance westward into the wilderness to seek there for that promised land which their prophet had foretold to them. After a wandering of three thousand miles through wildernesses, amid manifold dangers and difficulties, and the endurance of much suffering, they arrived at the Great Salt Lake, and its fertile shores. There they have within a few years so greatly increased and multiplied, that they are now in a fair way to become a powerful state. Faith can, even in these days, remove mountains--nay, more, can remove great cities. Nauvoo is now purchased by the French communist, Cabet, who will there establish a society of "Egalitairé."

Yes, in this Great West, on the shores of the Great River, exist very various scenes and peoples. There are Indians; there are squatters; there are Scandinavians, with gentle manners and cheerful songs; there are Mormons, Christian in manners, but fanatics in their faith in one man (and Eric Jansenists are in this respect similar to the Mormons); there are desperate adventurers, with neither faith nor law, excepting in Mammon and club-law; gamblers, murderers, and thieves, who are without conscience, and their number and their exploits increase along the banks of the Mississippi the further we advance south. There are giants, who are neither good nor evil, but who perform great deeds through the force of their will, and their great physical powers, and their passion for enterprise. There are worshipers of freedom and communists; there are slave-owners and slaves. There are communities who build, as bees and beavers do, from instinct and natural necessity. There are also, clear-headed strong, and pious men, worthy to be leaders, who know what they are about, and who have laid their strong hand to the work of cultivation. There are great cities which   [p. 75]   develop the highest luxury of civilization, and its highest crimes; who, build altars to Mammon, and would make the whole world subservient. There are also small communities which possess themselves of land in the power of the peace principle, and in the name of the Prince of Peace. Lydia Maria Child tells us of such an one, either in Indiana or Illinois. It is a short story, and so beautiful that I must repeat it in her own living and earnest words.

"The highest gifts my soul has received, during its wild pilgrimage, have often been bestowed by those who were poor, both in money and intellectual cultivation. Among these donors, I particularly remember a hard-working, uneducated mechanic from Indiana or Illinois. He told me that he was one of the thirty or forty New Englanders who, twelve years before, had gone out to settle in the Western wilderness. They were mostly neighbors, and had been drawn to unite together in emigration from a general unity of opinion on various subjects. For some years previous, they had been in the habit of meeting occasionally at each other's houses to talk over their duties to God and man in all simplicity of heart. Their library was the Gospel, their priesthood the inward light. There were then no anti-slavery societies; but thus taught, and reverently willing to learn, they had no need of such agency to discover that it was wicked to enslave. The efforts of peace societies had reached this secluded band only in broken echoes, and non-resistance societies had no existence. But with the volume of the Prince of Peace, and hearts open to his influence, what need had they of preambles and resolutions?

"Rich in spiritual culture, this little band started for the Far West. Their inward, homes were blooming gardens; they made their outward a wilderness. They were industrious and frugal, and all things prospered under their hand. But soon wolves came near the fold, in the shape   [p. 76]   of reckless, unprincipled adventurers; believers in force and cunning, who acted according to their creed. The colony of practical Christians spoke of their depredations in terms of gentlest remonstrance, and repaid them with unvarying kindness. They went further--they openly announced, 'You may do us what evil you choose, we will return nothing but good.' Lawyers came into the neighborhood, and offered their services to settle disputes. They answered, 'We have no need of you. As neighbors, we receive you in the most friendly spirit; but for us, your occupation has ceased to exist.' 'What will you do if rascals burn your barns and steal your harvests?' 'We will return good for evil. We believe this is the highest truth, therefore the best expediency.'

"When the rascals heard this, they considered it a marvelous good joke, and said and did many provoking things which seemed to them witty. Bars were taken down in the night, and cows let into corn-fields. The Christians repaired the damage as well as they could, put the cows in the barn, and at twilight drove them gently home, saying, 'Neighbor, your cows have been in my field. I have fed them well during the day, but I would not keep them all night, lest the children should suffer for their milk.'

"If this was fun, they who planned the joke had no heart to laugh at it. By degrees, a visible change came over these troublesome neighbors. They ceased to cut off horses' tails, and break the legs of poultry. Brute boys would say to a younger brother, 'Don't throw that stone, Bill! When I killed the chicken last week, didn't they send it to mother, because they thought chicken broth would be good for poor Mary? I should think you'd be ashamed to throw stones at their chickens.' Thus was evil overcome with good, till not one was found to do them willful injury. Years passed on, and saw them thriving in worldly substance beyond their neighbors, yet beloved by all. From them the lawyer and the constable obtained   [p. 77]   no fees. The sheriff stammered and apologized when he took their hard-earned goods in payment for the war-tax. They mildly replied, ''Tis a bad trade, friend. Examine it in the light of conscience, and see if it be not so.' But while they refused to pay such fees and taxes, they were liberal to a proverb in their contributions for all useful and benevolent purposes.

"At the end of ten years, the public lands, which they had chosen for their farms, were advertised for sale by auction. According to custom, those who had settled and cultivated the soil were considered to have a right to bid it in at the government price, which at that time was 1.25 dollars per acre. But the fever of land speculation then chanced to run unusually high. Adventurers from all parts of the country were flocking to the auction; and capitalists in Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, and Boston were sending agents to buy Western lands. No one supposed that custom or equity would be regarded. The first day's sale showed that speculation ran to the verge of insanity. Land was eagerly bought in at seventeen, twenty-five, and thirty dollars an acre, The Christian colony had small hope of retaining their farms. As first settlers, they had chosen the best land, and persevering industry had brought it into the highest cultivation. Its market value was much greater than the acres already sold at exorbitant prices. In view of these facts, they had prepared their minds for another remove into the wilderness, perhaps to be again ejected by a similar process. But the morning their lot was offered for sale, they observed with grateful surprise that their neighbors were every where busy among the crowd begging and expostulating: 'Don't bid on these lands! these men have been working hard on them for ten years. During all that time, they never did harm to man or brute. They were always ready to do good for evil. They are a blessing to any neighborhood. It would be a sin and shame to bid   [p. 78]   on their lands. Let them go at the government price.' The sale came on; the cultivators of the soil offered 1.25 dollars, intending to bid higher if necessary. But among all that crowd of selfish, reckless speculators, not one bid over them! Without an opposing voice, the fair acres returned to them! I do not know a more remarkable instance of evil overcome with good. The wisest political economy lies folded up in the maxims of Christ.

"With delighted reverence I listened to this unlettered backwoodsman, as he explained his philosophy of universal love. 'What would you do,' said I, 'if an idle, thieving vagabond came among you, resolved to stay, but determined not to work?' 'We would give him food when hungry, shelter him when cold, and always treat him as a brother.' 'Would not this process attract such characters? How would you avoid being overrun by them?' 'Such characters would either reform or not remain with us. We should never speak an angry word, or refuse to minister to their necessities, but we should invariably regard them with the deepest sadness, as we would a guilty or beloved son. This is harder for the human soul to bear than whips or prisons. They would not stand it; I am sure they could not. It would either melt them or drive them away. In nine cases out of ten, I believe, it would melt them.'"

Lydia Maria Child adds, "This, the wisest doctrine of political economy, is included in the doctrines of Christ." As for me, these words run in my mind, "Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall possess the earth." And when I look around me in these regions for that which is the most triumphant and the most overpowering element in the Mississippi States, and among the freebooters of California at the present time, I see clearly that it is the power and dominion of the peace-maker.

We have lain still for several hours. The river has here a dangerous, sharp, rocky bottom, and, as the water is low, the passage is dangerous. They wait for the wind becoming perfectly still, that they may discern the places where the stream is rippled by the rocks. It is already so calm that I can scarcely imagine how it can be calmer. The Mississippi glances like a mirror in the sunshine, merely here and there furrowed by the stream. It is now quite as warm as summer, and I am impatient at lying quiet in the heat and the strong sunshine. The bed of the Mississippi has not been cleared, and it is a sign that the government of the United States has its deficiencies and its shallows, when they can tolerate such impediments on a great river where there is such constant traffic. But it is not agreed as to whether the government or the people ought to do the work, and therefore it remains undone, to the great detriment of the traffic of the river.

I have made two agreeable acquaintances on board, in two gentlemen from Connecticut, strong, downright Yankees; and the young daughter of one, a most charming girl of twenty --a fresh flower, both body and soul--a splendid specimen of the daughters of New England. We have also now a pair of giant women on board, such as belong to the old mythological population of Utgaerd; and I have been particularly amused by the conflict between the wild and the cultivated races in the persons of one of these ladies and my lovely flower of New England. The former, in a steel-gray dress, with a gray, fierce countenance, stiff and middle-aged, sat smoking her pipe in the ladies' saloon when we entered it from the dining-hall in the afternoon. She sat in the middle of the room, and puffed out the smoke vehemently, and looked as if she would set the whole world at defiance. The ladies looked at her, looked at each other, were silent, and endured   [p. 80]   it for a while; the smoke, however, became at length intolerable, and one whispered to another that something must be done to put a stop to this unallowable smoking.

Miss S. called the stewardess: "You must tell that lady that it is not permitted to smoke in this room."

"I have told her so, Missis, but she takes no notice. It is of no use talking to her."

Again they waited a while to see whether the smoking lady would not pay attention to silent, but very evident signs of displeasure. But no, she sat as unmoved as ever, and filled the room with smoke.

The lovely young Miss S. now summoned courage, advanced toward the smoker, and said, in a very polite, but, at the same time, firm and dignified manner, "I don't know whether you have observed that your cabin has a door which opens on the piazza, and--it would be much more agreeable for you, and for all of us, if you would smoke your pipe there."

"No. I prefer smoking here in this room."

"But it is forbidden to smoke here."

"It is forbidden for gentlemen, but not for ladies."

"It is forbidden to smoke here, as well for you as for any one else; and I must beg of you, in the name of all the ladies present, that you will desist from so doing."

This was said with so much earnestness, and so much grace at the same time, that the giant woman seemed struck by it.

"No, well! wait a bit!" said she, angrily; and, after she had vehemently blown out a great puff of tobacco-smoke by way of a parting token, she rose up and went into her own apartment. The power of cultivation had gained the victory over rudeness; the gods had conquered the giants.

We shall now proceed on our way, but by land, and not by water. Our heavily-laden vessel can not pass the shallows. It must be unloaded here. The passengers must   [p. 81]   proceed by carriages about fifteen or sixteen miles along the Iowa shore to a little city where they may take a fresh steamer, and where there are no longer any impediments in the river. My new friends from Connecticut will take me under their wing.

I am now at St. Louis, on the western bank of the river, deliberating whether or not to go to a bridal party to which I am invited, and where I should see a very lovely bride and "the cream of society" in this great Mississippi city, the second after New Orleans. I saw the bridegroom this forenoon, as well as the bride's mother; he is a very rich planter from Florida, and very much of a gentleman, an agreeable man. The bride's mother is a young-elderly beauty, polite but artificial; somewhat above fifty, with bare neck, bare arms, rouged cheeks, perfumed, and with a fan in her hand; a lady of fashion and French politeness. They have invited me for the evening. An agreeable and kind acquaintance of Mr. Downing's, to whom I had a letter, would conduct me thither in company with his wife, but--but--I have a cold, and I feel myself too old for such festivals, at which I am, besides, half killed with questions; so that the nearer it approaches the hour of dressing, the clearer becomes it to my own mind that I must remain quietly in my own room. I like to see handsome ladies and beautiful toilets, but--I can have sufficient descriptions of these, and I have seen enough of the beau monde in the Eastern States to be able to imagine how it is in the West.

I am now at an hotel, but shall remove, either to-morrow or the day after, to the house of Senator Allen, a little way out of the city.

I came here yesterday with my friends from Connecticut. The journey across the Iowa prairie in a half-covered wagon was very pleasant. The weather was as warm as a summer's day, and the sun shone above a fertile,   [p. 82]   billowy plain, which extended far, far into the distance. Three fourths of the land of Iowa are said to be of this billowy prairie-land. The country did not appear to be cultivated, but looked extremely beautiful and home-like, an immense pasture-meadow. The scenery of the Mississippi is of a bright, cheerful character.

In the afternoon we reached the little town of Keokuk, a high bank by the river. We ate a good dinner at a good inn; tea was served for soup, which is a general practice at dinners in the Western inns. It was not till late in the evening that the vessel came by which we were to continue our journey, and in the mean time I set off alone on a journey of discovery. I left behind me the young city of the Mississippi, which has a good situation, and followed a path which led up the hill along the river side. The sun was descending, and clouds of a pale crimson tint covered the western heavens. The air was mild and calm, the whole scene expansive, bright, and calm, and idyllian landscape on a large scale.

Small houses, at short distances from each other, studded this hill by the river side; they were neatly built of wood, of good proportions, and with that appropriateness and cleverness which distinguishes the work of the Americans. They were each one like the other, and seemed to be the habitations of work-people. Most of the doors stood open, probably to admit the mild evening air. I availed myself of this circumstance to gain a sight of the interior, and fell into discourse with two of the good women of the houses. They were, as I had imagined, the dwellings of artisans who had work in the town. There was no luxury in these small habitations, but every thing was so neat and orderly, so ornamental, and there was such a holiday calm over every thing, from the mistress of the family down to the very furniture, that it did one good to see it. It was also Sunday evening, and the peace of the Sabbath rested within the home as well as over the country.

When I returned to my herberg in the town it was quite dusk; but it had, in the mean time, been noised abroad that some sort of Scandinavian animal was to be seen at the inn, and it was now requested to come and show itself.

I went down, accordingly, into the large saloon, and found a great number of people there, principally of the male sex, who increased more and more until there was a regular throng, and I had to shake hands with many most extraordinary figures. But one often sees such here in the West. The men work hard, and are careless regarding their toilet; they do not give themselves time to attend to it; but their unkemmed outsides are no type of that which is within, as I frequently observed this evening. I also made a somewhat closer acquaintance, to my real pleasure, with a little company of more refined people; I say refined intentionally, not better, because those phrases, better and worse, are always indefinite, and less suitable in this country than in any other; I mean well-bred and well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, the aristocracy of Keokuk. Not being myself of a reserved disposition, I like the American open, frank, and friendly manner. It is easy to become acquainted, and it is very soon evident whether there is reciprocity of feeling or not.

We went on board between ten and eleven at night, and the next morning were in the waters of the Missouri, which rush into those of the Mississippi, about eighteen miles north of St. Louis, with such vehemence, and with such a volume of water, that it altogether changes the character of the Mississippi. There is an end now to its calmness and its bright tint. It now flows onward restless and turbid, and stocks and trees, and every kind of lumber which can float, are whirled along upon its waves, all carried hither by the Missouri, which, during its impetuous career of more than three thousand miles through the wilderness of the West, bears along with it every thing which it finds on its way. Missouri is a sort of Xantippe,   [p. 84]   but Mississippi is no Socrates, because he evidently allows himself to be disturbed by the influence of his ill-tempered spouse.

Opposite St. Louis boys were rowing about in little boats, endeavoring to fish up planks and branches of trees which were floating on the river.

The first view of St. Louis was very peculiar. The city looks as if it were besieged from the side of the river by a number of immense Mississippi beasts, resembling a sort of colossal white sea-bears. And so they were; they were those large, three-decked, white-painted steamers, which lined the shore, lying closely side by side to the number of above a hundred; their streamers, with names from all the countries on the face of the earth, fluttering in the wind above their chimneys, which seemed to me like immense nostrils; for every steam-boat on the Mississippi has two such apparatus, which send forth huge volumes of smoke under the influence of "high pressure."

When we reached St. Louis it was as warm as the middle of summer, and many of the trees in the streets yet bore verdant foliage. I recognize the tree of the South, the "pride of India," which bears clusters of flowers like lilac during the time of flowering, and afterward clusters of red, poisonous berries; and the beautiful acacia, alanthus, and sycamore.

November 7th. Scarcely had I reached St. Louis when I was obliged to take to my bed in consequence of violent headache. My charming young friend from New England attended me as a young sister might have done. When she was obliged to leave me to proceed forward with her father, I found here an Irish servant-girl, who looked after me excellently during my short indisposition. I was better, and then went to pay a morning visit to the bridal pair, who are now residing at the hotel. It was in the forenoon; but the room in which the bride sat was darkened, and was only faintly lighted up by the blaze   [p. 85]   of the fire. The bride was tall and delicately formed, but too thin, but for all this lovely, and with a blooming complexion. She was quite young, and struck me like a rare hot-house plant, scarcely able to endure the free winds of the open air. Her long, taper fingers played with a number of little valuables fastened to a gold chain, which, hanging round her neck, reached to her waist. Her dress was costly and tasteful. She looked, however, more like an article of luxury than a young woman meant to be the mother of a family. The faint light of the room, the warmth of the fire, the soft, perfumed atmosphere--every thing, in short, around this young bride, seemed to speak of effeminacy. The bridegroom, however, was evidently no effeminate person, but a man and a gentleman. He was apparently very much enamored of his young bride, whom he was now about to take, first to Cincinnati, and then to Florida and its perpetual summer. We were regaled with bride-cake and sweet wine.

When I left that perfumed apartment, with its hothouse atmosphere and its half daylight, in which was carefully tended a beautiful human flower, I was met by a heaven as blue as that of spring, and by a fresh, vernal air, by sunshine and the song of birds among the whispering trees. The contrast was delightful. Ah, said I to myself, this is a different life! After all, it is not good; no, it is not good, it has not the freshness of Nature, that life which so many ladies lead in this country; that life of twilight in comfortable rooms, rocking themselves by the fireside from one year's end to another; that life of effeminate warmth and inactivity, by which means they exclude themselves from the fresh air, from fresh invigorating life! And the physical weakness of the ladies of this country must, in great measure, be ascribed to their effeminate education. It is a sort of harem-life, although with this difference, that they, unlike the Oriental women, are here in the Western country regarded as sultanesses,   [p. 86]   and the men as their subjects. It has, nevertheless, the tendency to circumscribe their development, and to divert them from their highest and noblest purpose. The harems of the West, no less than those of the East, degrade the life and the consciousness of woman.

After my visit to the bride, I visited various Catholic asylums and religious institutions, under the care of nuns. It was another aspect of female development which I beheld here. I saw, in two large asylums for poor orphan children, and in an institution for the restoration of fallen women (the Good Herder's Asylum), as well as at the hospital for the sick, the women who call themselves "Sisters," living a true and grand life as mothers of the orphan, as sisters and nurses of the fallen and the suffering. That was a refreshing, that was a strengthening sight!

I must observe that Catholicism seems to me at this time to go beyond Protestantism in the living imitation of Christ in good works. The Catholic Church of the New World has commenced a new life. It has cast off the old cloak of superstition and fanaticism, and it steps forth rich in mercy. Convents are established in the New World in a renovated spirit. They are freed from their unmeaning existence, and are effectual in labors of love.

These convents here have large, light halls instead of gloomy cells; they have nothing gloomy or mysterious about them; every thing is calculated to give life and light free course. And how lovely they were, these conventual sisters, in their noble, worthy costume, with their quiet, fresh demeanor and activity! They seemed to me lovelier, fresher, happier, than the greater number of women living in the world whom I have seen. I must also remark that their nuns' costume--in particular the headdress--was, with all its simplicity, remarkably becoming and in good taste; and that gave me much pleasure. I do not know why beauty and piety should not thrive well together. Those horrible bonnets, or poke-caps, which are   [p. 87]   worn by the Sisters of Mercy in Savannah, would, if I were ill, frighten me from their hospital. On the contrary, the sight of these sisters here would assuredly make a sick person well.

During one of those prophetic visions with which our Geijer closed his earthly career, he remarked, on a visit to me, "Convents must be re-established anew; not in the old form, but as free societies of women and men for the carrying out works of love!" I see them coming into operation in this country. And they must have yet a freer and milder form within the evangelical Church. The deaconess institutions of Europe are their commencement.

The excess in the number of women in all countries on the face of the earth shows that God has an intention in this which man would do well to attend to more and more. The human race needs spiritual mothers and sisters. Women acquire in these holy sisterhoods a power for the accomplishment of such duty, which in their isolated state they could only obtain in exceptional cases. As the brides and handmaidens of Christ, they attain to a higher life, a more expansive consciousness, a greater power. Whether similar religious societies of men are alike necessary and natural as those of women, I will not inquire into, but it seems to me that they are not. Men, it appears to me, are called to an activity of another kind, although for the same ultimate object--the extension of the kingdom of God upon earth.

Last evening and the evening before I made my solitary journeys of discovery both within and without the city.

St. Louis is built on a series of wave-like terraces, considerably elevated above the Mississippi. It seems likely to become an immense city, and has begun to build suburbs on the plain at great distances apart; but already roads are formed, and even a rail-road and streets from one place to another. These commencements of suburbs are generally on high ground, which commands glorious   [p. 88]   views over the river and the country. Thick columns of coal-black smoke ascend, curling upward in the calm air from various distances, betokening the existence of manufactories. It has a fine effect seen against the golden sky of evening, but those black columns send down showers of smuts and ashes over the city, which has not a fine effect. They are building in the city lofty and vast warehouses, immense shops and houses of business. The position of the city near the junction of the Missouri and the Mississippi, its traffic on the former river, with the whole of the Great West, and by the latter with the Northern, Southern, and Eastern States, give to St. Louis the means of an almost unlimited increase. Probably a railroad will connect St. Louis with the Pacific Ocean. It is an undertaking which is warmly promoted by a number of active Western men, and this would give a still higher importance to the city. Emigration hither also increases every year, and especially from Germany. How large this increase is may be shown by the fact that in 1845 its population amounted to thirty-five thousand souls, and that in 1849 it was nearly double that number. The State of Missouri has now about two millions of inhabitants, and is yet, as a state, not above thirty years old.

As I wandered through the streets in the twilight I saw various figures, both of men and animals, which gave me any thing but pleasure. Such I had often seen and grieved over at New York just such people, with the look half of savageness and half of misery--just such poor worn-out horses. Ah! we need still to pray the Lord of all perfection, "Thy kingdom come!" I returned to my hotel with a melancholy and heavy heart.

One of the peculiarities which I observed was the number of physicians, especially dentists, which seemed to abound. Every third or fourth house had its inscription of "physician." What could be the use of all their remedies here?

Among the persons who have visited me here were some of the so-called "New Church," that is, Swedenborgians, who, in consequence of my confession of Faith in "Morgon Väkter," had the opinion that I belonged to the "New Church." I could not, however, acknowledge that I did belong to the New Church; for I find in the old, in its later development through the great thinkers of Germany and Scandinavia, a richer and a diviner life. Swedenborg's doctrine of the Law of Correspondence has for its foundation the belief and teaching of all profoundly-thinking people, from the Egyptians to the Scandinavians; but Swedenborg's application of his doctrine appears to me not sufficiently grand and spiritual.

Every where in North America one meets with Swedenborgians. That which seems to be most generally accepted among them is the doctrines of Christ's divinity, and of the resemblance which the world of spirits bears to the earth, and its nearness to it.

In their church-yards, one often finds upon a white marble stone beautiful inscriptions, such as,

He (or she) entered the spiritual world on such and such a day.

This is beautiful and true; for I say with Tholuck, "Why say that our form is dead? Dead! that word is so heavy, so lifeless, so gloomy, so unmeaning. Say that our friend has departed; that he has left us for a short time. That is better, and more true."

Since I last wrote I have removed to the beautiful home, and into the beautiful family of Senator A. A pretty young girl, the sister of the master of the house, has given me her room, with its splendid view over the Mississippi and Missouri Valley. But the beautiful weather has now changed into cold and autumnal fog, so that I can see nothing of all the glory. The air is very thick. But such days are of rare occurrence in this sunbright America,   [p. 90]   and the sun will soon make a way for itself again. Mr. A. has calculated the number of sunny days in a year for three several years, and he has found them to be about three hundred and fifteen; the remainder were thunderstorms and rainy days, and of the latter the number was the smaller.

Mr. A. is an interesting and well-informed young man, well acquainted with every movement in the state, of which he is a senator, as well as an active participator in its development. Thus, during the past summer, he has delivered no less than five hundred "stump-speeches"^[1*] (I hope I have not made a mistake of a couple of hundred in the number), traveling about in Missouri advocating the laying down of a rail-way from St. Louis through Missouri to the shores of the Pacific Ocean, and exhorting them to give in their adherence to the scheme. And he has been extremely successful. In St. Louis alone names are given in to the amount of two millions of dollars for the carrying out of the undertaking. It is true that they will have to tunnel through and to blast the solid walls of the Rocky Mountains, but what does that signify to an American?

The city of St. Louis was founded by rich traders. Dealers in furs and Catholic priests were the first who penetrated the wildernesses of the West, and ventured life to win, the former wealth, the latter souls.

Trade and religion are still, at this moment, the pioneers of civilization in the Western country.

One of the most important branches of speculation and   [p. 91]   trade in and around St. Louis is, at the present time, the sale of land. The earlier emigrants hither who purchased land, now sell it by the foot at several thousand dollars a square foot. The exorbitant prices at which I have been told land sells here seem almost incredible to me. Certain it is that many people are now making great fortunes merely by the sale of their plots of ground: One German, formerly in low circumstances, has lately sold his plot, and has now returned to his native land with wealth to the amount of one hundred thousand dollars.

Mr. A., who is one of the "self-made men" of the Great West, and who began his career at Morton by publishing a Penny Magazine, is now a land proprietor, and sells also plots or pieces of ground for large sums. He, like Mr. Downing (with whom he has also, in appearance, a certain resemblance), unite at the same time the practical man and the poetical temperament, in particular for natural objects.

There are a great number of Germans in St. Louis. They have music and dancing parties, which are zealously attended. There are also here both French and Spaniards. At the hotels all is in French style, with French names for dishes and wines. The Irish here, as every where else throughout the United States, constitute the laboring population; excepting negro slaves, the greater portion of servants are Irish.

Spite of the greatly increasing trade of the city, it is still extremely difficult, nay, almost impossible for a young emigrant to obtain a situation in any place of business. If, on the contrary, however, he will begin by doing coarse hand-labor, as a miller's man, for instance, or a worker in a manufactory, he can easily find employment and get good wages. And if he lives carefully, he may soon gain sufficient to undertake higher employment. Better still are his prospects if he can superintend some handcraft trade; he is then in a fair way to become the artificer of his own fortune.

November 11th. Again summer and sunshine, and a glorious view over the Mississippi and the expanse of country! The heavens are light blue, the earth is light green, every thing is bathed in light. I have walked with my young friend over the hills around this place, and Mr. A. has driven me out to see the whole neighborhood. That which always strikes me most in the Great West is the vast extent of landscape. It produces upon me a peculiarly cheerful and expansive feeling. I can not but involuntarily smile as I seem to long to stretch out my arms and fly over the earth. It feels to me very stupid and strange not being able to do so. Mr. A. drove me to part of the neighborhood where the wealthy citizens of St. Louis built their villas. There are already upon the hills (though they can hardly be called hills, but merely terraces or plateaux) and in the valleys whole streets and groups of pretty country houses, many of them really splendid, surrounded by trees, and flowers, and vines, and other creepers. How life increases here, how rapidly and how joyously! But do not tares spring up with the wheat? I have still hope, although I have lost my faith in the Millennium of the Great West.

The State of Missouri seems to be one of the richest states of the Union as regards natural beauty and natural resources, as well as one of the largest. They speak of its northern portion as of the natural garden of the West; it possesses, westward, lofty mountains, rich in metals, interspersed with immense prairies and forest; southward, toward Arkansas, it becomes boggy, and abounds in morasses. To the west of the state lies the Indian Territory, the people of which have embraced Christianity and civilization. The Cherokees are the principal, but many other tribes have united themselves to this in smaller associations, as the family of Choctaws, Chickasaws, Fox, and Sac Indians. Whether this Indian territory stands in the same relationship to the government of the   [p. 93]   United States as other territory during its period of gradation and preparation, and whether at some future time it will become an independent Indian state in the great Union, I do not know decidedly, though I regard it as probable.

Missouri is a slave state. But it seems at this moment to maintain the institution of slavery rather out of bravado than from any belief in its necessity. It has no products which might not be cultivated by white laborers, as its climate does not belong to the hot South. Missouri also sells its slaves assiduously "down South."

"Are you a Christian?" inquired I from a young handsome mulatto woman who waited on me here.

"No, Missis, I am not."

"Have you not been baptized? Have you not been taught about Christ?"

"Yes, Missis, I have a godmother, a negro woman, who was very religious, and who instructed me."

"Do you not believe what she told you about Christ?"

"Yes, Missis; but I don't feel it here, Missis," and she laid her hand on her breast.

"Where were you brought up?"

"A long way from here, up the Missouri, Missis; a long way off!"

"Were your owners good to you?"

"Yes, Missis; they never gave me a bad word."

"Are you married?"

"Yes, Missis; but my husband is a long way off with his master."

"Have you any children?"

"I have had six, Missis, but have not a single one left. Three are dead, and they have sold the other three away from me. When they took from me the last little girl, oh, I believed I never should have got over it! It almost broke my heart!"

And they were so-called Christians who did that! It   [p. 94]   was not wonderful that she, the negro slave, had a difficulty in feeling Christianity, that she could not feel herself a Christian. What a life! Bereaved of husband, children, of all that she had, without any prospect of an independent existence; possessed of nothing on the face of the earth; condemned to toil, toil, toil, without hope of reward or day of rest; why should it be strange if she became stupid or indifferent, nay, even hostile and bitter in her feelings toward those in whose power she is--they who call themselves her protectors, and yet who robbed her of her all? Even of that last little girl, that youngest, dearest, only child!

This pagan institution of slavery leads to transactions so inconsistent, so inhuman, that sometimes in this country, this Christian, liberal America, it is a difficult thing for me to believe them possible, difficult to comprehend how it can be a reality, and not a dream! it is so difficult for me to realize it.

The topic of interest at this moment in St. Louis is the return of Senator Benton from Washington, and his great speech in the State House, to give an account of his conduct in Congress as regards the great and momentous question between the Northern and the Southern States. Such speeches, explanatory or in justification of their line of conduct, are customary in all the states or the return of the senator to the state which he represents in Congress. I read Colonel Benton's speech last evening. The bold representative of the slave state, who alike openly vindicated its rights as such, while he condemned slavery, is here also like himself bold, candid, unabashed, half man and half beast of prey, rending to pieces with beak and claws, and full of enjoyment in so doing.

I remember the last words of his speech, which are really manly and excellent.

"I value a good popularity, that is to say, the applause of good men. That of all others I shall ever disregard;   [p. 95]   and I shall welcome censure which is hurled at me by the illiberal and the mean."

Missouri, as well as Arkansas, has a deal of heathenism and a deal of wild, uncultivated land still. Civilization is as yet at its commencement in these states, and slavery retards its progress as with strong fetters. Fights and bloody duels are of frequent occurrence among the white population. Bowie-knives and pistols belong to the wardrobe of a man, especially when traveling in the state. Besides, he must be continually prepared to meet with those unprincipled fortune-hunters who hasten from Europe and the Eastern States (the prodigal sons of those countries) into the West to find there a freer scope for their savage passions.

To-morrow, or the day after, I steer my course to Cincinnati, whence I shall write to you again.