Wild Sports in the Far West. Gerstäcker Friedrich
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state of the boat, and consequent discomfort—Lockport—Niagara—Hamilton—Visit to a countryman—Excursion into the woods—Meeting with an Indian—Bear hunt—Bivouac in the woods—Maize—Buffalo—The ‘William Tell’—Village politicians.
Although this blockhouse was called the Quarantine building, the quarantine was not very strict; several of us got a boat to take us on shore, and for the first time we stepped on the soil of a new world—for us a truly beautiful and noble world, but still a new, and therefore a strange one. Singular feelings came over me as I wandered under strange trees, among the pale Americans, and sought some quiet spot where I could indulge my thoughts; they were mournful, though at the same time full of hope and confidence. It was late when I returned to my companions, whom I found assembled round some bread and cheese and beer, and well satisfied with their reception in their new country. While sitting enjoying God’s good gifts, which we had been so long deprived of, a stranger came into our room, but as he addressed us in German, we were soon on a footing of old acquaintance; he was a baker, who had been about thirty years in America, and had realized a handsome fortune; he came with the praiseworthy intention of giving us good advice. The good man might have saved his trouble, for, wise in our own conceits, like all new comers, we knew better than he did. He had lived principally in Pennsylvania, and, like all the people of that State, he addressed each as “Thou.” He cautioned us against the Americans, telling us that they would cheat us whenever they could; “but,” said he, “if you must trust to any one, trust an American sooner than a German. It is a disgrace to the Germans, but it is too true: beware of them, for they are much worse towards their own countrymen than any others; because,” added he, confidentially, “they are the simplest. When you land at New York, don’t go into any of the low public-houses, near the landing-place—‘William Tell’—and such like—they are all dens of thieves; and now if you do—you have been warned—it will be your own faults and you can’t complain.” He continued for some time giving us advice on this subject, and although, at that time, I made no exception to the general rule of knowing better, disbelieving his calumnious warnings because they did not agree with my preconceived fixed opinions, I found afterwards that his words were unfortunately but too true.
A second examination of the baggage exposed more dirt; sick of remaining longer in disagreeable contact with it, we five took the steamer that starts at nine o’clock for New York, making the passage of nine miles in half an hour. There was too much to see, and too much that was quite new, for the eye to dwell long enough on any one object to receive a deep impression, and I hardly knew that the boat had started, when she stopped at the landing-place, and the immense sea of houses of New York, begirt by a forest of masts, lay before us.
The steamer had hardly landed, when we were surrounded by a number of car-drivers, offering to carry our luggage to our destined abode; we chose two, which took all our things, and for which we had to pay altogether one dollar—but they had a tolerable distance to go. Zellner, who had already been in New York, recommended Schw—z’s boarding-house, whither we all went. In all my life I never saw such a dirty establishment as old Madame Schw—z’s: it makes me sick now to think of it. Of course I did not remain much in the house, but for some days lounged through the fine broad streets, admiring several handsome buildings. I was much struck by the immense amount of shipping ranged thickly side by side all round the town, and by the superfluity of southern fruits; in every street were carts full of pine-apples, oranges, cocoa-nuts, &c. The finest pines were to be had for from sixpence to a shilling.
I had wandered about for a couple of hours, and was about to return to the boarding house, when turning the corner of a street I came upon one of the most extraordinary cavalcades I ever saw. It was the funeral of a poor Irishman, which I will briefly describe, as it is well worth it. First came a hearse covered with dirty cloth that once had been black. The driver was seated in front, by no means in a mourning attitude; his left foot rested on his right knee, the left elbow on the left knee. He was dressed in a shabby blue coat, a hat with the rim torn and hanging down; his trowsers might have been white if they had been washed; his left hand held an apple, which he was eating with the greatest composure; the right held the whip, with which from time to time he encouraged his horses; the reins were twisted round his left knee. The hearse was followed by six luggage cars, each containing from ten to twelve mourners, sitting back to back, with feet hanging down the sides, men and women together, in clothes of all colors, eating, drinking, and laughing: to say the least, it appeared to me a very original kind of funeral.
It was late when I arrived at the boarding-house, for when I turned homewards I found so many things to attract my attention that the hours flew rapidly by. All my companions were assembled, and we had much to relate. As we were going to bed about twelve, there was a cry of “fire! fire!” in the streets. I jumped up and looked out of the window—the sky above the opposite houses was deep red. As I was still dressed, and none of the others would go, I ran down stairs, and hastened in the direction of the fire; I hurried along one street after another, following the reflection in the sky; yet it was three quarters of an hour before I arrived at the fire. It was a small wooden building still in flames, so I came in good time to see the engines worked. There were several Germans among those who had hastened to the fire; I asked one of them how far it was to my boarding-house, and learnt to my horror that it was two miles off. He assured me that if I ran to every fire that broke out in New York, I should have nothing else to do all night, as there are seldom less than two in the twenty-four hours. His words were confirmed by another alarm in a few hours; and during the three months that I remained in New York, I remember very few nights passing without an alarm of fire. The fire companies are excellent, and the most respectable citizens are enrolled amongst the firemen; the engines are handsome, and formed of brass and iron, often adorned with a pretty vignette; they are drawn by the men. How different from our old thunder-boxes, in Germany, where it takes half an hour to get the horses ready.
A week passed so quickly, I could hardly persuade myself that it was more than two days. I became acquainted with several Germans. The dirt of the boarding-house became insupportable. I had been introduced to a German family by a mutual acquaintance from Brunswick, and they agreed to let me board and lodge with them for three dollars a week, the ordinary price, washing not included. Washing costs at the rate of four cents a single piece.
I had come to New York with the intention of proceeding to Vera Cruz, but heard so many unfavorable reports of the state of Mexican affairs, that I was at first undecided; and afterwards, as so many told me of the disturbed and uncertain state of that country, and warned me, as a new comer, against going there, I decided on taking a good look at the United States before I visited other countries.
My prospects here seemed to improve. A young farmer from Illinois, whom I met in New York, said that it was not difficult to get a farm on lease there—a lease in the American sense of the word, where the farmer obtains a piece of cleared land, with the necessary buildings, for which he gives the proprietor, who also finds most of the farming implements, one third of the produce. At the same time, he assured me that two men could easily manage sixty acres. But he suppressed the fact that these two must be well acquainted with the American system of farming.
All sorts of plans came under my consideration, without my coming to any determination—and time slipped by.
One Sunday morning I wished to go to church. An acquaintance offered to accompany me. We went to the German reformed church. We were rather late, and I was astonished at the excitement and disorder which prevailed. I was soon to be still more surprised. The preacher, a robust, powerful man, was very red in the face, spoke with great vehemence and considerable ability. He paused every now and then to take a drink. Suddenly, as the confusion was somewhat subsiding, and the preacher was commenting on the text, a lady stood up, and began to speak very loud. At first I could not understand what she wanted. With surprise, I recognized her to be my landlady, and heard such words as “shame—insufferable—insolence—men—turn out of the pulpit,” &c. As I was reflecting on what this could mean, the disturbance broke out afresh. “Down with him out of the pulpit!” “Kick him out!” “Cane him well!” Such were the sounds that filled the church. The congregation attempted to get the preacher out of the pulpit, but this was not so easy as it appeared. The pulpit had a flight of steps on each side,