Iowa Old Press
The Miner’s Express
Dubuque, Dubuque Co., Iowa
Wednesday, September 18, 1850
Dubuque As Seen By a Stranger
Dubuque, Iowa, Aug. 23, 1850
I am sitting on a bluff more than two hundred feet high, and
taking a bird's eye view of the city of Dubuque and its vicinity.
This bluff which stands at the west side of the town, is owned by
a Mr. Kelly, at present in your Asylum, and is supposed to
contain lead enough to make you and me both rich. The town, at my
feet, is about the size of Rome, and contains some 5,000
inhabitants. The streets cross each other at right angles, in
most instances, and I can trace them as readily as if looking on
a map. There are several handsome blocks before me, or rather
beneath me, though half of the town seems built of wood. Four
churches I notice, one of which, the Catholic, seems directly
below me; and it strikes one curiously, after looking down upon
the roof of this edifice, to observe on looking over his
shoulder, that the burying ground, belonging to, and adjoining
it, is on level with himself.
Just below the city, the great Mississippi is moving majestically
down the valley – watering the flowers and shrubs of a dozen
islands, that seem to float on her surface, and washing, with one
swell, the shores of Iowa, Illinois, and Wisconsin to the left,
rise abruptly before me. But these bluffs are not as high as to
intercept my view, and far beyond them, thirty miles to the
north, the Platte mounds, “as blue as Prussians” stand
up against the horizons to the east, and only distant only some
five or six miles, the Sinsinewa (an Indian name signifying
“higher ground”) attracts my attention. On the southern
side of this mound, stands a Catholic college of some note, and
which I am told is their principal institution for this portion
of the great valley. Farther to the south, I notice the Galena
bluffs, by means of which I can trace the Fevre River, eighteen
miles distant. As I look down the valley, I notice on this side
of the river, a ravine in which a small brook empties itself into
the Mississippi. Near the mouth of this brook, was situated one
of the largest Indian burying grounds in this region, and here
Dubuque was buried. Dubuque was the first white man to come here
to live. He was first to obtain permission from the Indians to
dig on their grounds, and said to be the only man who succeeded
in making them work the mines. He acquired such a wonderful
influence over them, and to receive the title of “The
Medicine Man,” which you know with an Indian, means next
thing to the Great Spirit. Dubuque lived among them fifteen
years, and when “he went to see his brother, the “Great
Spirit”, they placed him in a cave and propped him up in a
corner, in full dress, with his hat on his head. Mr. Langworthy,
one of the most enterprising men of Dubuque, and who takes a deep
interest in everything, connected with the town, or its history,
tells me that when this cave was opened in 1823, thirteen years
after the death of Dubuque, he saw the skeleton still in the
corner, and the hat on his skull!
The ledge on which this city stands, at the lowered or southern
end, is just wide enough for a single street: thence gradually
increasing, the upper portion reaches the width of a mile, when
it abruptly narrows again. So when they get the city done, (!) it
will be shaped like a half kite, and between three or four miles
long. There is evidently a good deal of business done in this
place, aside from the mining trade. One store I entered –
Mr. Waples, I think – was over 120 feet in length, and
seemed full of customers, upstairs and down. Dubuque is laboring
under one difficulty, which I hope may soon be removed. Their
wharf is difficult to approach, inasmuch as vessels are obliged
to sail between islands, where the channels are narrow and
crooked. A bill approaching twenty thousand dollars for the
improvement of navigation at this point, has recently passed the
House of Representatives, and it is confidently expected it will
also pass the Senate. It is thought the expenditure of this sum
will open a channel between the islands and the Iowa shore,
through which the main river will eventually flow, and by which
means the passage will be shortened 1¼ miles, even for boats
that make no landing here
I must not forget to saw that our former fellow citizen, Dr.
Scott, has located himself here, and his friends in Utica will be
pleased to hear that he seems to be doing a fine business in
Dubuque. But fear you may tire of my medley picture from this
bluff, I will “come down,” and if you please I will
take you straight to Mount Zion.
[transcribed by C.M., December 2018]