| Dr.
D.Port Smythe, freshly arrived in Texas after completing his medical studies at
the University of Pennsylvania, took part in an expedition from East
Texas to Palo Pinto County in May 1852. Later that summer, the Leon Pioneer
at Centerville published
his account.
Smythe’s interesting journal soon lapsed into obscurity,
but writer Donald Day rediscovered it in the early 1940s while doing research
at the Texas State Library. He and Southern Methodist University professor Samuel
Wood Geiser got the doctor’s journal reprinted in Texas Geographic Magazine in
1942.
Having been soaked while waiting out a spring thunderstorm in a
leaky “waste house” they had hastily sought for shelter, the party decided to
“lay by” a day to dry out. At some point during this hiatus, one member of the
group opined that some biscuits would sure taste good.
“None of our party
being versed in this higher sort of baking,” Smythe wrote, “it devolved upon me
to make the experiment and at the expense of a good deal of ‘elbow grease,’ the
work was triumphantly achieved.” And he was not shy in reporting the outcome:
His biscuits “got the praise of the entire party.”
Amply fortified with
carbs, the Leon County men rode for a while with a group of Texas Rangers under
Lt. J.C. Caruthers. The rangers doubtless were colorful characters, but what interested
Smythe was the flora and fauna, which he described throughout his journal.
W
hat
continued to amaze him was the prairie they rode through as they headed northwest.
“The beautiful prairie is spread…like a Sea of Emerald, dotted with Island[s]
of timber, and decked with myriad of gorgeously painted flowers, rivaling the
fabled scenes of oriental Fiction.”
While noting that they were not seeing
much game, only a few deer too far off to “allow any hopes of a Steak dinner,”
the riders did encounter a herd of wild mustangs. The horses were trotting along
until they saw the mounted men. Coming to a sudden halt, “they surveyed us for
a moment and then proudly tossing their heads, and disdainfully snuffing the breeze…till
they were satisfied we were enemies, and then their leader a Black Stallion, drove
them off in a full gallop…till they became mere spots on the grassy plain.”
Smythe
said he had hoped that he and his fellow travelers would see buffalo,
but ruefully noted that “the rapid encroachments of civilization [had] driven
them many hundred miles beyond this locality.” (To put that in perspective, only
13 years before, Republic of Texas President Mirabeau B. Lamar had seen a large
herd of buffalo stampeding on what soon became Congress Avenue.)
Near Fort
Graham, in what is now Coryell County, the party encountered Indians for the first
time. Fortunately, they were friendly – or at least indifferent. Some of them,
Smythe wrote, were “dashing about on horseback” while others “lounged idly” outside
the post trader’s store. What impressed him most were the Indian children, who
busied themselves practicing with bow and arrow.
Several days later, somewhere
between Gifford’s Peak – which Smythe climbed to enjoy the view -- and the Hood
County landmark of Comanche Peak, the doctor and his fellow sojourners found a
village of friendly Indians near a trading post. They made camp nearby and hired
one of the Indians to serve as their guide and hunter until they reached the Brazos
River.
Smythe clearly relished seeing nature in its spring attire, but
when he beheld pretty country his view of it reflected the dominant 19th century
belief that the full potential of the land would not be realized until it had
been broken by the plow. Where a modern traveler might see an undisturbed landscape
as satisfying and useful in its own right, Smythe envisioned its subjugation to
agriculture and industry.
“Smiling
plantations and populous villages, with the busy hum of life and the bustle of
industry will soon take the place of bleating flocks, and lowing herds,” he rhapsodized.
“Such virgin soil must yield her tribute to the honest toil of the husbandman;
bright cottages will dot these sunny vales; the joyous song of the contented ploughman;
the merry laugh of happy children, and the sweet carol of blushing maidens will
greet the ear of the stranger….”
Smythe did not describe every meal the
expedition had, but one evening feast stood out: Turtle and fish from a creek
near their camp along with a turkey harvested by their Indian guide.
The
trekkers from East Texas covered what
they reckoned to be 225 miles before reaching the point where Palo Pinto Creek
emptied into the Brazos River. From there, they headed back to Leon County, a
trip the doctor chose not to chronicle.
Smythe ended his journal with a
quip that likely gave most of his readers a smile: “I have carried you my readers
to the mouth of Palo Pinto, and now I leave you to do as I did, get home the best
way you can.”
(See Dr. Smythe's
"Secret" Journal )
© Mike
Cox - October 16, 2013 column
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