THE VILLAGE OF BRUSSELS ILLINOIS

Brussels is a small Village between the Illinois and Missouri  Rivers not far from the Mississippi reached only by water. On one of our last pretty days in May we drove out to visit it.

We used the super highway surrounding St. Louis to cross over to Illinois.  We traveled past Bush Stadium, home of the Cardinals baseball team,  crossing the bridge of the Missouri River to where the River meets the Mississippi and took River Road to the city of Alton, home of the Bald Eagle.

Once on River Road, old salmon colored cliffs with caves from another age escorted us along the way.  The City appeared to be one visited by tourists and summer people. Artsy dress shops stood beside bait shacks and a large marina had boats of all sizes in its docks.

Past Alton the heavily trafficked highway became a two-lane country road weaving up and down  around hills and farm land and corn fields distressed by rain and flood.  We saw no live stock. The homes were modest with recreational  vehicles parked in the driveways and children's swings and plastic pools on the lawns.  The one or two McMansions we saw looked out of place.

We arrived at the ferry dock.  Owned and operated by a private family, the ferry was small but carried about a dozen cars, a truck, and a group of people on bikes and us across  the Illinois River to Brussels.

Inside the Village, we learned that Brussels is in the National Register of Historic Places. The Village covers 0.56%  of land. The Census of 2000 found that 141 people were citizens of Brussels.

The Historic Wittmond Hotel is situated on the Village's Main Street. Next to it is the town's cemetery, and the old Jail.  The front of the Hotel features a wide front porch down on which I could imagine Wyatt Earp or John Wayne striding, spurs click, clicking away on the wooden planks.

Once inside, we found a bar, gift shop and small dinning rooms all in dark woods. Built in 1874 the hotel featured black and white photos of the original owners, and other important figures of the time. Windows were hung with old lace curtains and lunch was served family-style.

Old medicine bottles lined the shelves of the gift shop.  Among them St. Joseph Mineral Oil and something called Tyrone Tonic.  An old poster was displayed for the book "Crooks Kill, Cops Lie" by Bill McClellan of The St. Louis Post-Dispatch newspaper. Glass display cases held old and new bric-a-brac.

As we left Brussels we noticed a large sign, "Two Rivers National Wildlife Refuge." We had planned to take the ferry back over the Mississippi but we returned the way we came, with the ferry over the Illinois River hoping we would not encounter more flooding.