Alexandria Gazette

Letter from Texas.

Extract of a letter from a gentleman in Texas to his friend in Virginia, dated, Houston, Texas, Dec. 23, 1837.

You will see by the date of this that I have already reached the place of my destination, and am at length in the Capital of Texas—Mr. N. is with me. We left New York Nov. 16th, and arrived at Galveston Dec. 6th. There are now seventeen vessels in port, and a few half finished houses and shantees on shore.— The Island is 30 miles in length and one or two wide, but low, and poor, sandy land. It is intended to have a large city on it some day; and in this, I believe, the proprietors will not be disappointed, tho' there is little water on it, and in a recent gale, nearly the whole Island was inundated. I have little doubt respecting the health of the place, as it has a sea-breeze from every quarter.

As soon as possible I went ashore, and never in my life did I see a more miserable, idle and vagabond population— scarce a healthy countenance was to be seen; and from this, my first view, I formed no favorable opinion of either the health or character of the people. A few soldiers were stationed there, some of them sick of fever-and-ague, and one dying of mania a potu. As the steam- boats were very irregular in their trips, five of us determined to rig up a boat and sail up the bay on our own responsibility;—we had a good wind, but lost our way; found it again, however, and ascended the San Jacinto River to Lynchburg. (opposite the battle-ground.) where we spent the night on the floor and wrapped up in our blankets. The next day we started with a fair breeze and entered Buffalo Bayou; here our wind failed us; it began to rain and we took to our oars. You would have been amused to have seen us drenched with rain, hungry and disheartened, tugging at our oars, and praying in vain for wind.—N., poor fellow! gave out—"he couldn't row nor wouldn't row"—and breathed many an anathema against Texas and the illfate that had brought him into it. At length we reached a small settlement called Harrisburg, landed our baggage, and soon found the tavern; here we had neither fire nor comfort, until we insinuated ourselves into the kitchen, and that too, in spite of the intimations and protestations of our landlady—as tart and crabbed a piece of mortality as ever I met with.—She gave us a good supper, however, and tolerable lodging. The next day the sun rose warm and pleasant; the trees retained much of their foliage: the grass appeared as green as ever, and you might occasionally hear the birds singing as they do with us in early spring:— wild fowl of every description, huge pelicans, fish-hawks and cranes, to say nothing of geese and ducks, were constantly rising from the water as we approached, and would settle down again immediately behind us as unconcerned as if nothing had happened. Again we manned our boat, and after rowing a few hours, found ourselves in the vicinity of the Capitol.—It is true we saw neither pyramid, dome nor tower; nothing but the live oak, red cedar and tall yellow pine, hung with Spanish moss; at length, however, we descried a shantee, and then a black woman washing on the banks of the Bayou, and then an oyster boat—these were the suburbs; a little further and we saw a grog-shop, a tent, a clearing and a white man asleep or drunk—this was the city We drew up our craft, and ascended the bank; pursuing our course, one grog-shop succeeded to another, then a store or two, a shantee, a tent, a tavern, and an occasional dwelling house; at last we saw the Capitol, and a very decent building, painted red, and made of clap boards. Here, too, for the first time in my life, I saw a prairie, perfectly level and bounded by skirts of wood, with an occasional clump of trees distributed here and there upon its surface. You may recollect the view from the corner of your vineyard toward Oakley; that of the prairie as seen from this place bears no inconsiderable resemblance to it—but the surface of the land is even, without a single rise or undulation. After proceeding a short distance into it, I met with a grave yard, where not less than 150 to 200 graves might be counted. Houston is an unhealthy place, extremely so; the water of the Bayou is used by the inhabitants, and is without the slightest doubt, extremely deleterious; the rain stagnates on the prairie and gives rise to fatal miasmata; then, again, no great a portion of the population are constantly exposed, fare so poorly and drink so freely, that the mortality of the place is not at all to be wondered at. Indeed, I believe the whole of this part of the country to be unhealthy; and would never recommend to a friend to settle in it. But, when you reach the uplands, where no stagnant or sluggish waters are to be found, where good springs are to be met issuing from almost every hill, where the pure air is inhaled at every breath, untainted by the decomposition of vegetable matter, soft and fresh from the Gulf by day, cool and dry from the Rocky Mountains by night: —there, I am told, is the Elysium that awaits me;—thither, in a day or two, I shall turn my steps and ascertain by personal observation how far the reality corresponds to the description.