VIEW OF THE SUSQUAHANNAH

VIEW  ON   THE   SUSQUEHANNAH,

(ABOVE OWAGO, OR AT GRAND ISLAND.)

Reproduced from a 7" x 4¾" Steel Engraving

from a Drawing by W.H. Bartlett

 VIEW ON THE SUSQUEHANNAH, is Print # 42 of 53 from Volume II

"AMERICAN SCENERY" or LAND,LAKE, AND RIVER

Published in 1839 by George Virtue, 26 Ivy Lane, London

NOTE:This is a exact copy of the original 1839 text describing the above Print,
from "AMERICAN SCENERY" Volume II "AMERICAN SCENERY"
or LAND,LAKE, AND RIVER

The spectator in this view looks up the Susquehannahj with the river behind as well as before him; for the mountain on which he stands is almost encircled by the bend with which it turns downward to Owago. It is, perhaps, the best view that could be taken to express the etymology of its name, (Crooked River,) besides being one of singular beauty. I regretted only when the artist was there, that the rafts and arks with which the river is for a great part of the year enlivened, were, from the low state of the water, entirely wanting. The wild navigation of these crafts gives the Susquehannah a picturesque character, which, to do it pictorial justice, should not be omitted in the drawing. Perhaps the amends may be partially made to the reader's imagination by quoting an account of the raftsmen, written in a letter to a friend :—

" This part of the country is not destitute of the chances of adventure, however; and twice in the year, at least, you may, if you choose, open a valve for your spirits. One half the population of the neighbourhood is engaged in what is called lumber­ing, and until the pine timber of the forest can be counted like the cedars of Lebanon, this vocation will serve the uses of the mobs of England, the revo­lutions of France, and the plots of Italy—I may add, the music and theatres of Austria and Russia, the sensual indulgence of the Turk, and the intrigue of the Spaniard; for there is in every people under the sun a superflu of spirits uncon-sumed by common occupation, which, if not turned adroitly or accidentally to some useful or harmless end, will expend its reckless energy in trouble and "mischief.

" The preparations for the adventures of which I speak, though laborious, are often conducted like a frolic. The felling of the trees in mid-winter, the cutting of shingles, and the drawing out on the snow, are employments preferred by the young men to the tamer but less arduous work of the farm-yard; and in the tem­porary and uncomfortable shanties, deep in the woods, subsisting often on nothing but pork and whisky, they find metal more attractive than village, or fire-side.

" The small streams emptying into the Susquehannah are innumerable; and eight or ten miles back from the river the arks are built, and the materials of the rafts collected, ready to launch with the first thaw. I live myself, as you know, on one of these tributaries, a quarter of a mile from its junction. The Owago trips along at the foot of my lawn, as private and untroubled for the greater part of the year as Virginia Water and Windsor; but as it swells in March, the noise of voices and hammering coming out from the woods above, warn us of the approach of an ark; and at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour, the rude structure shoots by, floating high on the water, without its lading, (which it takes in at the village below,) and manned with a singing and saucy crew, who dodge the branches of the trees, and work their steering-paddles with an adroitness and nonchalance which sufficiently show the character of the class. The sudden bends which the river takes in describing my woody Owago puts the steermanship to the test; and when the leaves are off the trees, it is a curious sight to see the bulky monsters, shining with new boards, whirling around in the swift eddies, and, when caught by the current again, gliding off among the trees, like a singing and swearing phantom of an unfinished barn.

" At the village they take wheat and pork into the arks, load their rafts with plank and shingles, and wait for the return of the freshets. It is a fact you may not know, that when a river is rising, the middle is the highest, and vice versa when falling—sufficiently proved by the experience of the raftsmen, who, if they start before the flow is at its top, cannot keep their crafts from the shore. A pent­house, barely sufficient for a man to stretch himself below, is raised on the deck, with a fire-place of earth and loose stone; and with what provision they can afford, and plenty of whisky, they shove out into the stream. Thenceforward it is vogue la galere ! They have nothing to do all day but abandon themselves to the current, sing and dance, and take the turn at the steering-oars; and when the sun sets, they look out for an eddy, and pull in to the shore. The stopping-places are not very numerous, and are well known to all who follow the trade; and, as the river swarms with rafts, the getting to land and making sure of a fastening, is a scene always of great competition, and often of desperate fighting. When all is settled for the night, however, and the fires are lit on the long range of the flotilla, the raftsmen get together over their whisky and provender, and tell the thousand stones of their escapes and accidents; and with the repetition of this night after night, the whole rafting population along the five hundred miles of the Susque-hannah becomes partially acquainted, and forms a sympathetic corps, whose excite­ment and esprit might be roused to very dangerous uses.

" By daylight they are cast off, and once more on the current; and in five or seven days they arrive at tide-water, where the crew is immediately discharged, and starts, usually on foot, to follow the river home again. There are several places in the navigation which are dangerous, such as rapids and dam-sluices; and what with these, and the scenes at the eddies, and their pilgrimage through a thinly-settled and wild country home again, they see enough of adventure to make them fire-side heroes, and incapacitate them, (while their vigour lasts, at least,) for all the more quiet habits of the farmer. The consequence is easy to be seen : agriculture is but partially followed throughout the country, and while these cheap facilities for trans­porting produce to those aboard exist, those who are contented to stay at home and cultivate the rich river lands of the country, are sure of high prices, and a ready reward for their labour."