Western Characters; or, Types of Border Life in the Western StatesMcConnel, John Ludlum
General
Western Characters; or, Types of Border Life in the Western States
McConnel, John Ludlum
Frontier and pioneer life -- Mississippi River Valley; Mississippi River Valley -- Social life and customs
Many a time, in the western highways, have I met with the sturdy
"mover," as he is called, in the places where people are stationary--a
family, sometimes by no means small, wandering toward the setting sun,
in search of pleasant places on the lands of "Uncle Sam." Many a time,
in the forest or on the prairie--generally upon some point of timber
which puts a mile or two within the plain--have I passed the "clearing,"
or "pre-emption," where, with nervous arm and sturdy heart, the
"squatter"[74] cleaves out, and renders habitable, a home for himself
and a heritage for his children.
Upon the road, you first meet the pioneer himself, for he almost always
walks a few hundred yards ahead. He is usually above the medium height,
and rather spare. He stoops a little, too; for he has done a deal of
hard work, and expects to do more; but you see at once, that unless his
lungs are weak, his strength is by no means broken, and you are quite
sure that many a stately tree is destined to be humbled by his sinewy
arm. He is attired in frontier fashion: he wears a loose coat, called a
hunting-shirt, of jeans or linsey, and its color is that indescribable
hue compounded of copperas and madder; pantaloons, exceedingly loose,
and not very accurately cut in any part, of like color and material,
defend his lower limbs. His feet are cased in low, fox-colored shoes,
for of boots, he is, yet, quite innocent. Around his throat and wrists,
even in midsummer, you see the collar and wristbands of a heavy,
deep-red, flannel-shirt. Examine him very closely, and you will probably
find no other garment on his person.
His hair is dark, and not very evenly trimmed--for his wife or daughter
has performed the tonsure with a pair of rusty shears; and the longer
locks seem changed in hue, as if his dingy wool hat did not sufficiently
protect them against the wind and rain. Over his shoulder he carries a
heavy rifle, heavier than a "Harper's ferry musket," running about
"fifty to the pound." Around his neck are swung the powder-horn and
bullet-pouch, the former protected by a square of deer-skin, and the
latter ornamented with a squirrel's tail.
You take note of all these things, and then recur to his
melancholy-looking face, with its mild blue eyes and sharpened features.
You think he looks thin, and conjecture that his chest may be weak, or
his lungs affected, by the stoop in his shoulders; but when he lifts his
eyes, and asks the way to Thompson's ferry, or how far it is to water,
you are satisfied: for the glance of his eye is calm and firm, and the
tone of his voice is round and healthy. You answer his question, he nods
quietly by way of thanks, and marches on; and, though you draw your
rein, and seem inclined to further converse, he takes no notice, and
pursues his way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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