Appalachian Summit

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33.  More Feet than Shoes

 

 

 

 

Much of the description we have of the Appalachian Summit between Cherokee removal and the Civil War is provided by politicians, preachers, and travelers from outside the area.  James Patton, early Asheville merchant and hotelier, was typical of, if more successful than, the early settlers of the areas largest town.  William West Skiles was an Episcopalian preacher and teacher in Valle Crusis between 1842 and 1862.  Congressman, then Senator, Thomas Lanier Clingman  will make many appearances in the coming years.  Charles Lanman traveled the area in 1848 and his “Letters” were descriptions of the area by what might be considered its first tourist.

 

 

 

James Patton –

Asheville, N.C., March 1839

 

DEAR CHILDREN AND FRIENDS:
        I have thought it might tend to your advantage, and that of your posterity, to give you a short and succint history of my life. It is not my intention to extend it to a great length, but merely to state some facts connected with it, which I hope, may prove not only satisfactory, but beneficial to yourselves and those who are to come after you. . . .

I was born in the North of Ireland, County of Derry and Parish of Tamlacht, on the 13th day of February, A. D. 1756, of poor, but respectable parentage. My father was a Farmer by occupation; he died when I was fourteen years of age. For three years before his death, he was in bad health, and was not able to be of any use to himself or his family. After the death of my father, I continued to reside with my mother, and assisted her in supporting the family until I was in the twenty-eighth year of my age, during which time I learned the Weaver's trade, and worked at it for about five years: it was of great service to me afterwards, when I commenced store-keeping, as it enabled me to judge correctly of the different kinds of common cloth.

The death of our landlord, and others coming in and raising the rents, prevented my mother from giving her children more than a very limited education. This, together with the many difficulties we laboured under in Ireland, induced a wish on my part, to try my fortune in some other part of the world. I accordingly, in the 28th year of my age, obtained her consent to come to America for the purpose of procuring the necessary means of bringing herself and family to this land of liberty, where we would no longer feel the oppression of haughty landlords, and where virtue and good conduct give a passport to the highest stations in society.

I embarked at Lairn, in the County of Antrim, on the 4th day of June 1783, and landed at Philadelphia on the 3d day of August following. When I left Ireland, my mother furnished me with two suits of clothing, two dozen shirts, and other things necessary, so that I would be enabled to save all the money that I might make; calculating that I would return in two years and bring them to America, but sickness prevented the execution of this plan. After I landed, I remained in Philadelphia . . . .

        I worked hard and used great economy, and all I had at the end of the three years that I had lived in the Canogege settlement was two hundred dollars. In the mean time I kept myself decently clothed, which I always would do, if I had nothing left. From the long spell of sickness which I had -- the effects of which I can feel to this day -- I was unable to work constantly at hard labor, (for I could eat no strong diet) and therefore concluded that I would turn my attention to some other business. The first thing that suggested itself to my mind was to get three or four young men to unite their small capitals with mine, purchase a boat load of flour, and take it to New-Orleans; but in this I was disappointed. In the same year that I intended to start, a difference took place between the Spaniards and Kentuckians, which prevented all trade from passing down the river. Having failed in this scheme, I (contrary to the advice and wishes of all my friends) concluded to lay out the little money I had in dry goods, and vend them over the country as well as I could. . . .

I proceeded on my way and got in company with Mr. James McIntyre, of Morgantown, Burke County, North-Carolina, near Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. We travelled together, and camped out at night, as he had a wagon loaded with goods. My forming an acquaintance with him, was the cause of my coming to this part of the country. I formed a good opinion of him; he was kind and advised me what to do. We parted in Botetourt County, Virginia, and I took the road to the head of the Holston. After beating about for some time in that part of the country, I crossed the mountain into the county of Surry; thence, into Wilkes, Burke and Buncombe. To show how slowly I got along in my business, I will inform you that I travelled in the section of country now called Ashe County, for ten days, and got but three dollars in money. I could have purchased fur skins, but was not willing to risk it, as I did not know their value. During this trip I met with poor success in the sale of my goods. . . .

I now made preparations to return to the North, which was in the spring of 1790. On my way, I bought 200 pounds of indigo at Fincastle in Virginia, and made almost as much profit on it, as I had done on my goods. I also bought a few fur skins of different sorts, to see what each kind would bring; I shewed them to eight or ten different hatters, told them not to be offended before I opened them. This way of proceeding learned me the value of the different kinds of fur, and was of great service to me the next year, and many years afterwards, when I had a store in Wilkes. This shows with what caution I acted in my trading; I was unwilling to risk anything, even in the smallest matters, without some certainty of profit. . . .

I purchased in Philadelphia as many goods as I was able to pay for, and returned to North- Carolina with two wagons, one loaded with goods, and the other with my mother and family. We moved to the piece of land which I got of Tompkins, in Wilkes County, North-Carolina, fifteen miles from the Court-house on Lewis' Fork, near the foot of the Blue Ridge. This was in the winter of 1792; at that time there was no building of any kind on the place; but I got the assistance of the neighbors who were very kind, and in two weeks had a comfortable house a story and a half high to move into. It was built of pine logs and covered with clapboards. I put up my goods on the second story of the house. My principal reason for commencing business at my mother's, was to procure such things as were necessary for the family. We never lived better in our lives, and had plenty of every thing that was comfortable. By this time I had fully seen the value of a good parent who strove so hard for the comfort and the happiness of her children.

        The ensuing fall I moved my goods to Wilkes Court-house. The next year in the fall, I moved my brother Thomas and family to Wilkes County, and settled him on the top of the Blue Ridge, ten miles from my mother's. I let him have cattle and horses to make a beginning on, and he lived well though at a distance from neighbors; he had but three children and they were small: his wife was an excellent woman, I always esteemed her highly: she was a high-minded honorable woman, and endeavored to instill pure principles into the minds of her children. Brother Thomas was a weakly man, but did all he could for his family. I gave them all the assistance in my power, but it could not be expected that I could do much for them in so short a time from my little beginning of two hundred dollars; however, I put them all in a way to support themselves and raise their families decently. They are now respectable, which is well known by those who are acquainted with them.

        The first year after I moved my mother to Wilkes County, I bought a small drove of horses and took them to the Federal City, and from that to Baltimore. I also bought a house and lot in Staunton, Virginia, from a man who lived in Wilkes County, North-Carolina, and agreed to give him two young negroes for it. Indeed, before I bought it, I had sold it on condition that I would make a right to it. If a man will help himself, he will always find friends. The merchants of Staunton saw that I was making a better use of my small beginning, and some of them became my security for a title, before I had bought it myself. I made something by the speculation. I also bought some other negroes, besides the two that I paid for the house and lot. The money was all paid down for the house and lot, and I intended to lay it out for cattle. You will observe how careful I was; I knew how much I would have to pay for negroes, and also knew what I could get for the house and lot before I made the trade.

        About two years from the time that I moved my mother to Wilkes County, I was married to your good and great mother. She was the daughter of Francis Reynolds, a man of little property, but as honest and respectable as any man in the County of Wilkes. He was one of the first settlers on the Yadkin River in that county; he had twelve children, of course he was not able to give her much: all she ever got did not amount to more than three hundred dollars. When we were married, she was in the bloom of youth and very handsome; amiable and sensible. There was great disparity in our ages; she was twenty years and five months younger than myself. She was ambitious to excel in all the duties of a wife, and assisted me greatly in my business. She saw that I was using all the exertions in my power, and having confidence in my judgment, it gave an increased impulse to her industry.

        Her mother (Mrs. Reynolds) was a superior housekeeper: it was from the management of her domestic concerns, the neatness of her house, and the nice arrangement of every thing about it, that I took a fancy to my wife, and I was not disappointed. She was every thing I expected and looked for -- prudent, industrious and economical, ready at all times to receive advice -- cheerful, but not ostentatious. I gave it as my opinion, that it would be imprudent for myself and her to appear at Church and other public places in superfluous dress, or to appear at any time above our neighbors; not only because I disliked vain show, but my principal reason was, that as we were just starting in the world, and were dependent on the public for our success, it might have an improper influence on their minds, and excite prejudices very much against our interest. My motto was, plainness and neatness; and this is as far as any one should go, however prosperous their circumstances may be: a beautiful exterior may dazzle the fancy for a short time, but solid worth depends entirely on a well trained and virtuous mind.

        I made it a rule to consult my wife on all weighty and important matters that I thought she could comprehend, and when I deviated from her opinion, I generally found that I was in error. I would advise all married men to consult their wives in every important undertaking. If they cannot fully understand the whole of any matter that may be presented to their consideration, they will be certain to catch at parts, and make some observations that will set their husbands to thinking. My opinion is, that women have never been allowed their just weight in society: were they permitted to use that influence in society to which I consider them entitled. they would contribute much more to the success of business through life, than is generally imagined, and particularly to domestic prosperity and happiness. During the third year after I had commenced trading, I took Col. Andrew Erwin in, to assist me in my business. The second year that he was in my employment, he married my sister. About twelve months after his marriage, I took him into full connexion with me in trade, although he had nothing at the time; I had two reasons for it, one was, on account of the high regard I had for my sister -- she was a high-minded honorable young woman; the other was, that I wished to encourage him, as he had become my connexion. At this time my capital was greater than his by twenty-eight hundred dollars, after all I had done for my good mother and family.

        It gives me consolation at this time, to think that I did not grasp all, and prevent others from coming forward, which (it is well known) I had no disposition to do. I find fault very much with wealthy men, for not taking poor young men by the hand, and putting them in a way to do well, when they find them honest, trusty and capable. I had now lived in Wilkes County, North-Carolina, twelve years, and my health had become so greatly impaired, that I took a dislike to Wilkesborough, and resolved to leave the place; accordingly, I rented my possessions to Waugh & Finley (merchants) for seven years. We then moved into the county of Buncombe in April 1807, and settled on the farm where my son Thomas now lives, three miles from Asheville, where we lived for seven years. We then moved from the farm to Asheville, where we lived together thirteen years and six months, before your mother died. She had been afflicted with a liver complaint for several years, which finally took her off. I think I can date her indisposition back to the birth of your sister Jane Hardy, who died the past winter in Charleston, South-Carolina: she then took cold, and was more or less indisposed from that time until her death. From the time we were married, until the death of your mother, was thirty-two years and ten months. We had eleven children, of whom we raised ten. At the time we moved to Asheville my son James was 11 years of age, my second son John 9, Franklin 7, and Thomas 5 years old. You can judge from this that I had to contend with many disadvantages when I commenced public house-keeping.

        Col. Erwin and myself were in partnership for twenty years, and made a complete dissolution in one day, to the astonishment of every person of understanding: it was effected in the following manner. As he was the active partner, I told him to make a division of the whole, accompanied with a statement on paper, and give me my choice, which he did; and in this way we came to an amicable settlement at once.

        Col. Andrew Erwin was a man of a clear head and a good heart, but too credulous and too easily imposed upon by bad men. I was like the little boat spoken of by Dr. Franklin, I would always keep near the shore; I would not venture far out to sea for fear of accidents, therefore, I always endeavored to find out whether a man was deserving of confidence, before I trusted much in his hands.

        I have thought it unnecessary to extend this narrative any further, as my principal object has been to give you some knowledge of my low beginning in the world, more than any thing else: and my dear children, having thus endeavored to give you a short sketch of the struggles and difficulties which I have passed through in life, I can assure you that I have not done it by way of boasting, but quite the contrary. It would be vain and foolish in me to suppose that it would be of any advantage to me as an individual, for at my time of life I have no disposition to indulge any such feelings; but I have thought that if it should never be of any benefit, it would perhaps afford satisfaction to some of my posterity to know from whence they sprang. You could not reasonably expect, that I would be able at my advanced age (being now in my 84th year) to give you an exact and accurate account of the various vicissitudes of my life, merely from memory. . . .

 

JAMES PATTON  [1]

 

 

 

William West Skiles -

Watauga County, North Carolina

Men and women came straggling in, many on foot, some on horseback, the wife in sun-bonnet and straight narrow gown, riding behind her husband.  Here and there a woman was seen mounted on a steer, with a child or two in her arms, while the husband, walking beside them, goad in hand, guided the animal over the rough path.  The women all wore sun-bonnets, or handkerchiefs tied over their heads.  Some were bare-footed.  There were many more feet than shoes in the congregation.  The boys and girls, even when full grown, were often bare-footed.

 

The last house of the settlement was built at the very base of ‘Grandfather’.  The clearings about these isolated cabins were so narrow as to be almost unperceived in the vast majestic wilderness of stately trees.  The loneliness of the settlers, however, never seemed to mar their cheerfulness.  And yet I recall scenes of great distress, in times of sickness, and death.  On one occasion I remember the children were all ill, at the last cabin - no doctor, no medicines, and not much food - and all, sick and well, in one room.  A walk through the forest in the night brought the Missionary there, to render all the service in his power.  Two of the children died before daybreak.  During the next day, decent preparations were made, with great exertion, and in the evening the children were buried in one grave, by torchlight.  It was the best we could do.

. . . what is remarkable, typhoid fever, in a malignant form, occasionally appeared on the highest mountain ridges, where the air, always fresh and bracing, seemed the very elixir of life, and where the cool and brightly limpid waters filled the rocky basins in an unceasing, overflowing, current.  There were however probably two causes for this visitation of typhoid fever.  The door-yards of those mountain farms were almost invariably untidy; the cattle and pigs, and fowls were constantly gathered about the house door, and the yard never thoroughly cleaned.  It is also probable that many of the mountain springs, so bright and clear in appearance, may have contained decayed vegetable matter, unwholesome in character. . . .

 

The grist-mill in the valley drew the mountaineers from their cabins to bring their grain for grinding.  Some few, very few in fact, came in rude waggons, others on horseback, some on steers, many on foot.  Most of them carried a gun, a backwoods’ custom very common in that region, frequently a hound or two followed.  The sack of grain was carried on the shoulders, by those on foot.  The men were, many of them, clad in home-spun tow shirts, and short trousers without coat or shoes, even in winter.  They were rarely in a hurry, the movement of the country people of that region being, almost always, slow, and deliberate.  They were strong, healthy, quiet and composed, frequently ruddy from exposure, and exercise.  A number smoke corn-cob pipes.   [2]

 

 

 

 

To J. S. Skinner, Esq.

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, February 3, 1844.

 

DEAR SIR: Your favor of the 30th ultimo was received a day or two since, and I now avail myself of the very first opportunity to answer it.  I do so most cheerfully, because, in the first place, I am happy to have it in my power to gratify in any manner one who has done so much as yourself to diffuse correct information on subjects most important to the agriculture of the country; and, secondly, because I feel a deep interest in the subject to which your inquiries are directed. You state that you have directed some attention to the sheep husban­dry of the United States, in the course of which it has occurred to you that the people of the mountain regions of North Carolina, and some of the other Southern States, have not availed themselves sufficiently to their natural advantages for the production of sheep.  Being myself well acquainted with the western section of North Carolina, I may perhaps be able to give you most of the information you desire. As you have directed several of your inquiries to the county of Yancey, (I presume from the fact, well known to you that it cont­ains the highest mountains in any of the United States,) I will, in the first place, turn my attention to that county.  First, as to its elevation.  Dr. Mitchell, of our University, ascertained that the bed of Tow river, the largest stream in the county, and at a ford near its center, was about-twenty-two hundred feet above the level of the ocean. Burnsville, seat. of the court-house, he found to be between 2,800 and 2,900 feet above it. The general level of the county is, of course, much above this elevation. In fact, a number of the mountain summits rise above the height of six thousand feet.  The climate is delightfully cool during the summer: there being very few places in the county where the thermometer rises above eighty degrees on the hottest day. An intelligent gentleman who passed a summer in the northern part the county (rather the more elevated portion of it) informed me that the thermometer did not rise on the hottest days above seventy degrees.                       

You ask, in the next place, if the surface of the ground is so much covered with rocks as to render it unfit for pasture?  The reverse is the fact; no portion of the county that I have passed over is too rocky for cultivation, and in many sections of the county one may travel miles without seeing a single stone. It is only about the tops of the highest  mountains that rocky precipices are to be found. A large portion of the surface of the county is a sort of elevated table-land, undulating, but seldom too broken for cultivation. Even as one ascends the higher mountains, he will find occasiona1ly on their sides flats of level land. containing several hundred acres in a body. The top of the Roan, the highest mountain in the county except the Black, is covered by a prairie for ten miles, which affords a rich pasture during the greater part of the year.   The ascent to it is so gradual, that persons ride to the top on horseback from almost any direction. The same may be said of many of the other mountains. The soil of the county gene­rally is uncommonly fertile, producing with tolerable cultivation abundant crops. What seems extraordinary to a stranger is the fact that the soil becomes richer as he ascends the mountains.  The sides of the Roan, the Black, the Bald, and others, at an elevation of even five or six thousand feet above the sea, are covered with a rich deep vegetable mould, so soft that a horse in dry weather often sinks to the fetlocks. The fact that the soil is fre­quently more fertile as one ascends, is, I presume, attributable to the circumstance that the higher portions are more commonly covered with clouds, and the vegetable matter being thus kept in a cool, moist state while decaying, is incorporated to a greater degree with the surface of the earth, just as it is usually found that the north side of a hill is richer than the portion most exposed to the sun’s rays. The sides of the mountains, the timber being generally large, with little undergrowth and brushwood, are peculiarly fitted pasture grounds, and the vegetation is in many places as luxuriant as it is in the rich savanna of the low country.

The soil of every part of the county is not only favorable to the pro­duction of grain, but is peculiarly fitted for grasses. Timothy is suposed to make the largest yield, two tons of hay being easily produce on an acre, but herds-grass, or red-top, and clover, succeed well; blue-grass has not been much tried, but is said to do remarkably well. A friend showed me several spears, which he informed me were produced in the northern part of the county, and which, by measurement, were found to exceed seventy inches in length; oats, rye, potatoes, turnips, &c., are produced in the greatest abundance.

With respect to the prices of land, I can assure you bodies of uncleared rich land, most of which might be cultivated, have been, sold at prices varying from twenty-five cents to fifty cents per acre. Any quantity of land favorable for sheep-walks might be procured in, any section of the county, at prices varying from one to ten dollars per acre.

The few sheep that exist in the county thrive remarkably well, and are sometimes permitted to run at large during the winter without being fed, and without suffering. As the number kept by any indi­vidual is not large enough to justify the employment of a shepherd to lake care of them, they are not unfrequently destroyed by vicious dogs, and more rarely by wolves, which have not yet been entirely exterminated.

I have been somewhat prolix in my observations on this county, because some of your inquiries were directed particularly to it, and because most of what I have said about Yancey is true of the other counties west of the Blue Ridge. Haywood has about the same elevation and climate of Yancey. The mountains are rather more steep, and the valleys somewhat broader; the soil generally not quite so deep, but very productive, especially in grasses. In some sections of the county, however, the soil is equal to the best I have seen.

     Buncombe and Henderson are rather less elevated; Asheville and Hendersonvil1e the County towns, being each about twenty-two hun­dred feet above the sea. The climate is much the same, but a very little warmer. The more broken portions of these counties resemble much the mountainous parts of Yancy and Haywood, but they con­tain much more level land. Indeed the greater portion of Henderson is quite level. It contains much swamp land, which, when cleared, with very little if any drainage, produces very fine crops of herds-grass. Portions of Macon and Cherokee counties are quite as favor­able, both as to climate and soil, as those above described. I would advert particularly to the valleys of the Nantahalah, Fairfield, and Hamburg in Macon, and of Cheoh, in Cherokee. In either of these places, for a comparatively trifling price, some ten or fifteen miles square could be procured, all of which would be rich, and the major part sufficiently level for cultivation, and especially fitted, as their natural meadows indicate, for the production of grass.

In conclusion, I may say that, as far as my limited knowledge of such matters authorizes me to speak, I am satisfied that there is no region that is more favorable to the production of sheep than much of the country I have described. It is everywhere healthy and well watered. I may add, too, that there is water power enough in the different counties composing my Congressional district, to move more machinery than human labor can ever place there; enough, certainly, to move all now existing in the Union.

 

T. L. CLINGMAN  [3]

 

 

 

Charles Lanman -

Murphy, North Carolina, May 1848

I was now standing upon the extreme summit of the Blue Ridge, and within a stone’s throw of two springs which empty their several waters into the Gulf of Mexico and the Ohio river. While stopping here to obtain a little breath, I discovered a large spot of bare earth, which I took to be a deer yard, and directly across the middle of it the fresh tracks of a large wolf.  I had no gun with me, and this discovery made me a little nervous, which resulted, as I proceeded on my journey, in my losing the trail upon which I had started.  I soon came to a brook, however, which rushed down an immense ravine at an angle of forty-five degrees, and I continued my way feeling quite secure.  My course lay down, down, down, and then, as I wandered from the brook, it was up, up, up.  At the rate that I traveled I knew that I ought to reach my place of destination in at least one hour, but four hours elapsed and I reluctantly came to the conclusion that I was most decidedly lost, and that, too, among what I fancied to be the wildest and most lonely mountains on the face of the earth.  Then came the thought of spending the night in the wilderness, alone and unprotected, to be destroyed by the wild animals or starve to death. I resolved, however, to continue along the brook, knowing that it must come out “somewhere”, and as I was by this time in a most painful state of excitement, I clambered up the cliffs and ran down the hills at what now appears to me to have been a fearful rate.  The sun was excessively hot, and at every rivulet that I crossed I stopped to slake my thirst.  The brook was constantly making a new turn, and leaping over ledges of rocks more than a hundred feet high, and every new bluff that I saw (and there seemed to be no end to them) began to shoot a pang to my bewildered brain.  At one time I startled a herd of deer from a cool ravine , where they were spending the noontide hours; and on one occasion I was within a single foot of stepping on a rattlesnake, and when I heard his fearful rattle I made a leap which would have astonished even Sands, Lent & Co., or any other circus magicians.  It was now the middle of the afternoon, and my blood seemed to have reached the temperature of boiling heat; my heart began to palpitate, and I came to the conclusion that the critics would never again have an opportunity of doubting my adventures in the wilderness.  Just in the nick of time, however, I heard the howling music of a pack of hounds, and in a few moments a beautiful doe and some half dozen dogs shot across my path like a “rushing wind”.  This little incident led me to believe that I was not very far from a settlement, and had a tendency to revive my spirits.  The result was that I reached a cottage of an old gentleman named Riley, in the valley of Owassa, just as the sun was setting, where I was treated with the utmost kindness by his consort. . . . The people live almost exclusively in log cabins, and appear to be intelligent and moral, though destitute of all enterprise.

The only novelty that I noticed on the road to this place was the spot known as Fort Embree.  The only evidences that there ever was a fortification here are a breastwork of timber, a lot of demolished pickets, and two or three block-houses, which are now in a dilapidated condition.  The site is a commanding one, and takes in some of the grandest mountain outlines that I have yet seen.  This fort, so called, was made by the General Government for the purpose of herding the poor Cherokees previous to their final banishment into exile – a most humane and christian-like work, indeed!  How reluctant the Indians were to leave this beautiful land may be shown by the fact, that a number of women destroyed themselves within this very fort rather than be driven beyond the Mississippi.  And a gentleman who saw the Indians, when they were removed, tells me that they were actually driven along the road like a herd of wild and unruly animals, a number of them having been shot down in the vicinity of this place.  All these things may have been published, but I have never seen them in print; and I now put them in print with the view of shaming our heartless and cruel Government for its unnatural conduct in times past.  The Cherokees were a nation of mountaineers, and, had a wise policy been pursued with regard to them, they might now be chasing the deer upon these mountains, while all the valleys of the land might have been in a state of cultivation, even as they are now.  Not only would they have had the happiness of hunting their favorite game upon their native hills, but they might have been educated with more real satisfaction to themselves that they can be in the Far West.  In proof of the opinion that they might have lived here in honor and comfort, it may be mentioned that the few Cherokees who were permitted to remain in Carolina, are now considered the most polite and inoffensive of the entire population; and the United States District Attorney residing in the Cherokee country informs me, that of the five hundred individuals whom he has had to prosecute within the last five years, only one of them was an Indian, and he was led into his difficulty by a drunken white man.

 

The little village of Murphy, whence I date this letter, lies at the junction of the Owassa and Valley rivers, and in point of location is one of the prettiest places in the world.  Its Indian name was Klausuna, or the Large Turtle.

 

Running directly across the village of Murphy is a belt of marble, composed of the black, gray, pure white and flesh-colored varieties, which belt also crosses the Owassa river.

 

Franklin, North Carolina, May 1848

The distance from Murphy to this place is reported to be fifty miles.  For twenty miles the road rums in full view of Valley river, which is worthy in every particular of the stream into which it empties, the Owassa.  It is a remarkably cold and translucent stream, and looks as if it ought to contain trout.

 

The little village of Franklin is romantically situated on the Little Tennessee.  It is surrounded with mountains, and as quiet and pretty a hamlet as I have yet seen among the Alleghenies.

 

The only denominations who have preaching here are the Methodist and Baptist.  Among the latter class, the Bible custom of washing feet is still kept up with vigor.  The preachers of both denominations are itinerants, and, so far as I have seen, are worthy, upright, and sensible men.  They seem to think more of preaching the doctrines of Christ than proclaiming their own learning or advocating their own opinions, and it it therefore always a pleasure to hear them; they know their duties, and faithfully fulfill them, and I believe accomplish much good.  The people attend the Sunday meetings from a distance of ten and fifteen miles; and, as the men and women all ride horseback, and as often they come in parties, their appearance of approaching the church is often picturesque.

 

Qualla Town, North Carolina, May, 1848

In coming from Franklin to this place, a distance of thirty miles, I traveled over a wild, mountainous, and thinly settled country, where I was pained to witness the evil effects of intemperance, and made happy by following the windings of a beautiful river.  Having been overtaken by a thunder-storm, I found shelter in a rude and comfortless cabin, which was occupied by a man and his wife and eight children.  Every member of the family was barefooted; and one or two of the children almost destitute of clothing; not one of the children, though one or two of them were full grown girls, could read a single word; the mother was sickly and haggard in her appearance, and one of the little boys told me that he had not eaten a hardy meal for ten days.  I subsequently learned that the head of this house-hold was a miserable drunkard.

The river to which I alluded is the Tuck-a-se-ja, which empties into the Tennessee.  It is a very rapid stream, and washes the base of many mountains, which are as wild as they were a century ago.  Whenever there occurs any interval land, the soil is very rich, and such spots are usually occupied.  The mountains are all covered with forest, where wild game is found in abundance.  The fact is, the people of this whole region devote more of their time to hunting than they do to agriculture, which fact accounts for their proverbial poverty.  You can hardly pass a single cabin without being howled at by half a dozen hounds, and I have now become so well educated in guessing the wealth of a mountaineer, that I can fix his position by ascertaining the number of his dogs.  A rich man seldom has more than one dog, while a poor man will keep from ten to a dozen.  And this remark with regard to dogs, strange as it may seem, is equally applicable to the children of the mountaineers.  The poorest man, without any exception, whom I have seen in this region, lives in a log cabin with two rooms, and is the father of nineteen children, and the keeper of six hounds.

On my arrival in this place, which is the home of a large number of Cherokee Indians, (of whom I shall have much to say in future letters,) I became the guest of Mr. William H. Thomas, who is the “guide, counselor, and friend” of the Indians, as well as their business agent.  While conversing with this gentleman, he excited my curiosity with regard to the mountain in his vicinity, and having settled it in his own mind that I should spend a week or two with him and his Indians, proposed (first excusing himself on account of a business engagement) that I should visit the mountain in company with a gentleman in his employ as surveyor.  The proposed arrangement was carried out, and thus was it that I visited Smoky Mountain.  Its height cannot be less than five thousand feet above the level of the sea, for the road leading from its base to its summit is seven and a half miles long.  The general character of the mountain is similar to that already given of other Southern mountains, and all that I can say of its panorama is, that I can conceive of nothing more grand and imposing.  It gives birth to a pair of glorious streams, the Pigeon river of Tennessee, and the Ocono lufty of North Carolina, and derives its name from the circumstance that its summit is always enveloped, on account of its height, in a blue or smoky atmosphere.

 

Qualla Town is  a name applied to a tract of seventy-two thousand acres of land, in Haywood county, which is occupied by about eight hundred Cherokee Indians and one hundred Catawbas.  Their district is mountainous from one extremity to the other, and watered by a number of beautiful streams, which abound in fish,; the valleys and slopes are quite fertile, and the lower mountains are well adapted to grazing, and at the same time are heavily timbered and supplied with every variety of game.  This portion of a much larger multitude of aborigines, in consideration of their rank and age, and of valuable services rendered to the United States, were permitted by the General Government to remain upon their native soil, while the great body of the Cherokee nation were driven into exile.

 

With regard to the extent of their civilization and their existing manner of life, the following may be looked upon as a comprehensive summary:  About three-fourths of the entire population can read in their own language, and, though the majority of them understand English, a very few can speak the language.  They practice, to a considerable extent, the science of agriculture, and have acquired such a knowledge of the mechanic arts as answers them for all ordinary purposes, for they manufacture their own clothing, their own ploughs, and other farming utensils, their own axes, and even their own guns.  Their women are no longer treated as slaves, but as equals; the men labor in the fields, and their wives are devoted entirely to household employments.  They keep the same domestic animals that are kept by their white neighbors, and cultivate all the common grains of the country.  They are probably as temperate as any other class of people on the face of the earth, honest in their business intercourse, moral in their thoughts, words, and deeds, and distinguished for their faithfulness in performing the duties of religion.  They are chiefly Methodists and Baptists, and have regularly ordained ministers, who preach to them on every Sabbath, and they have also abandoned many of their more senseless superstitions.   They have their own courts and try their criminals by regular jury.  Their judges and lawyers are chosen from among themselves.  They keep in order the public roads leading through their settlement.  By a law of the State, they have a right to vote, but seldom exercise that right, as they do not like the idea of being identified with any of the political parties.  Excepting on festive occasions they dress after the manner of the white man, but far more picturesquely.  They live in small log houses of their own construction, and have everything they need or desire in the way of food.  They are, in fact, the happiest community that I have yet met with in this Southern country, and no candid man can visit them without being convinced of the wickedness and foolishness of that policy of the Government which has always acted upon the opinion that the red man could not be educated into a reasonable being.

 

Asheville, North Carolina, May 1848

The distance from Qualla Town to this place is sixty miles.  The first half of the route is exceedingly mountainous, and almost entirely uncultivated, but the valley of Pigeon river, down which you have to travel for a considerable distance, is very fertile and well cultivated.  A pastoral charm seems to rest upon the scenery, and in this particular forcibly reminded me of the upper valley of the Mohawk.  I occupied the most of two days in performing this trip, and the only incident that I met with which was at all unique, was upon this wise.  I had stopped at a farm house to take my dinner.  It so happened that my host was about to erect a new barn, and some twenty of his neighbors were assembled for the purpose of raising the framework to its proper position.  An abundance of whiskey had already been imbibed by a few of this rustic company, and among these was one individual who had recently been grossly cheated in purchasing a horse from a Tennessee horse-dealer.  He had given a mule and twenty dollars for the stranger’s gelding, and, though the animal was quite respectable in appearance, it turned out to be old, unsound, and almost without a redeeming quality.  The individual in question was noted for making a fool of himself when intoxicated, and on this occasion was determined to prove true to himself.  At this time his horse speculation seemed to weigh heavily upon his mind, and in his vehement remarks he took particular pains to curse the whole State of Tennessee, including President Polk.  The poor man finally became so completely excited that he swore that he would whip the first man he met on the road who was from Tennessee; and so the matter rested.

 

With regard to Asheville, I can only say that it is a very busy and pleasant village, filled with intelligent and hospitable inhabitants, and is the center of a mountain land, where Nature has been extremely liberal and tasteful in piling up her mighty bulwarks for the admiration of man.  Indeed, from the summit of a hill immediately in the vicinity of the village, I had a southwestern view which struck me as eminently superb.  It was near the sunset hour, and the sky was flooded with a golden glow, which gave a living beauty to at least a hundred mountain peaks, from the center of which loomed high towards the zenith Mount Pisgah and the Cold Mountain, richly clothed in purple, which are from twenty to thirty miles distant, and not far from six thousand feet in height.  The middle distance; though in reality composed of wood-crowned hills, presented the appearance of a level plain or valley, where columns of blue smoke were gracefully floating into the upper air, and whence came the occasional timkle of a bell, as the cattle wended their way homeward, after roaming among the unfenced hills.  Directly at my feet lay the little town of Asheville, like an oddly-shaped figure on a green carpet; and over the whole scene dwelt a spirit of repose, which seemed to quiet even the common throbbings of the heart.

My first expedition on arriving here was to a gorge in the Blue Ridge called Hickory Nut Gap.  How it came by that name I cannot imagine, since the forest in this particular region, so far as I could ascertain, are almost entirely destitute of the hickory tree.

 

I have just returned from an excursion down the French Broad River to Patton’s Warm Springs, and the neighboring curiosities, and now purpose to describe the “wonders I have seen”.  The original Indian name of the French Broad was Pse-li-co, the meaning of which I have not been able to ascertain.  Its English name was derived from a famous hunter named French.  It is one of the principal tributaries of the Tennessee, about one hundred miles long, from one to two hundred yards wide, and, taking its rise in the Blue Ridge near the border of South Carolina, runs in a northwestern direction.  Judging of the whole, by a section of fifty miles, lying westward of Asheville, it must be considered one of the most beautiful rivers in this beautiful land.  In running the distance above mentioned it has a fall of nearly fifteen hundred feet, and its bed seems to be entirely composed of solid rock.  In depth it varies from five to fifteen feet, and, generally speaking, is quiet clear, abounding in a great variety of plebeian fish.

 

Back of the river on either side the country is hilly and somewhat cultivated, but its immediate valley contains nothing that smacks of civilization but a turnpike road, and an occasional tavern.  This road runs directly along the waters edge nearly the entire distance, and, on account of the quantity of travel which passes over it, is kept in admirable repair.  It is the principal thoroughfare between Tennessee and South Carolina, and an immense number of cattle, horses, and hogs are annually driven over it to the seaboard markets.  Over this road also quiet a large amount of merchandise is constantly transported for the merchants of the interior, so that mammoth wagons, with their eight and ten horses, and their half-civilized teamsters, are as plenty as blackberries, and afford a romantic variety to the stranger.

 

I come now to speak of the Warm Springs, which are thirty-six miles from Asheville, and within six of the Tennessee line.  Of the Springs themselves there are some half dozen, but the largest is covered with a house, and divided into two equal apartments, either one of which is sufficiently large to allow of a swim.  The temperature of the water is 105 degrees, and it is a singular fact that rainy weather has a tendency to increase the heat, but it never varies more than a couple of degrees.  All the springs are directly on the southern margin of the French Broad; the water is clear as crystal, and so heavy that even a child may be thrown into it with little danger of being drowned.  As a beverage the water is quite palatable, and it is said that some people can drink a number of quarts per day, and yet experience none but beneficial effects.  The diseases which it is thought to cure are palsy, rheumatism, and cutaneous affections; but they are of no avail in curing pulmonic or dropsical affections.  The Warm Springs are annually visited by a large number of fashionable and sickly people from all the Southern States, and the proprietor has comfortable accommodations for two hundred and fifty people.  His principal building is of brick, and the ballroom is 230 feet long.  Music, dancing, flirting; wine-drinking, riding, bathing, fishing, scenery-hunting, bowling, and reading are all practiced here to an unlimited extent . . .

 

. . . the entire valley of the French Broad, where relics of a by-gone people are few and far between.  The rugged aspect of this country would seem to imply that it was never regularly inhabited by Indians, but was their hunting ground; and what would appear to strengthen this idea is the fact it is, even at the present day, particularly famous for its game.

 

Twenty-five miles from this place, in a northerly direction, stands Black Mountain, which is the gloomy looking patriarch of the Alleghenies, and claimed to be the most elevated point of land east of the Mississippi.  It is nearly seven thousand feet high, and, with its numerous pinnacles, covers an area of territory which must measure in length a distance of at least twenty miles.  Unlike its fellows in this Southern land, it is covered with a dense forest from base to summit, where may be found nearly every variety of American trees, from the willow and the elm, to the oak and the Canada fir; and it is the parent of at least a hundred streams. Not a rod of its rocky and yet fertile surface has ever been cultivated, and its chief inhabitants are the panther, the bear, and the deer.  Almost its only human denizen is one Fredrick Burnet, a “mighty hunter”, who is now upwards of forty years of age, and is said to have slain between five hundred and six hundred bears upon this mountain alone.

 

North Cove, North Carolina, June 1848

I now write from a log cabin situated on the Catawba river, and in one of the most beautiful valleys.  My ride from Asheville to Burnsville, a distance of over forty miles, was unattended by a single interesting incident, and afforded only one mountain prospect that caused me to rein in my horse.  [4]