CHAPTER XIII
Little Grave creek—Remarkable Indian monument—Floating store—Big Grave creek—Captina island and creek—Baker’s station—Cressop’s—Fish creek—Biddle’s—John Well’s—A rustick chorister—Uncommon fly.
On the 21st July at eight A. M. we left Wheeling, observing nothing very interesting, until we reached Little Grave creek, eleven miles below at {97} half past eleven o’clock. The creek, which is very small, puts in from the Virginia side, and there is a ferry-house at the mouth of it, where we landed, and had a pleasant walk on a very good wagon road of half a mile to Tomlinson’s, the proprietor of the surrounding soil. He has been settled here thirty years, but always forted until the conclusion of the Indian war by General Wayne. He then attempted to establish a town on the opposite side of the creek from his house; but it remains without augmentation, with only eleven cottages and cabins. The neighbouring country however is improving, though slowly. Mr. Tomlinson has a very good two story brick house, almost finished, fine apple and peach orchards, and a good farm.[75]
Mrs. Tomlinson obligingly permitted one of her sons to guide us to what is called the Indian grave, which is a short quarter of a mile to the southward of the house. It is a circular mound, like the frustum of a cone, about one hundred and eighty yards in circumference round the base, sixty round the flat on the top, and about seventy feet perpendicular height. In the centre of the flat top is a shallow hollow, like the filled up crater of an old volcano, which hollow or settle is said to have been formed within the memory of the first neighbouring settlers, and is supposed by them to be occasioned by the settling of the earth on the decayed bodies.
The whole mount appears to be formed of clay, and from its regularity, is evidently a work of art, though I am not of opinion that it has been a general or publick cemetery, but either a mausoleum raised over, and in memory of some great Indian chief, a temple for religious worship, or the scite of a fortification, or citadel to serve as a place of retreat from a superior foe. About three years ago, the neighbours perforated the north side, at about half the elevation, digging in horizontally about twelve feet, without any {98} other satisfaction to their curiosity, than the finding of part of a human jaw bone, the bone rough and honeycombed, but the teeth entire, and the surrounding clay of a white chalky consistence.
There are four or five small mounds all within a few hundred yards of the great one, each about thirty feet diameter, much lower in proportion than it, all rounded over the tops, and like the great one, shewing their antiquity by the size of the trees, plants, and shrubs which cover them, and having more than it the appearance of tumuli.
The bark of the trees which crown this remarkable monument, is covered by the initials of visitors cut into it, wherever they could reach—the number of which, considering the remote situation, is truly astonishing.[76]
On returning to our boat we found a floating store at the landing. It was a large square flat, roofed and fitted with shelves and counter, and containing a various assortment of merchandize, among which were several copper stills, of which much use is now made throughout the whole western country for distilling peach and apple brandy, and rye whiskey.—The store had two owners, who acted both as boatmen and merchants, and who freely invited us to partake of a dram with them. They had loaded their flat at Wheeling, and were dropping down the river, stopping occasionally wherever they could find a market for their goods.
At about one o’clock we proceeded on our voyage, passing on the right Mr. Dilly’s large frame house and fine farm, round which the river takes a great bend to the westward.[77]
About five miles and a half below Little Grave creek, after passing Big Grave creek,[78] (which is as {99} inconsiderable as its namesake notwithstanding its distinguishing adjective) and Captina island (very small) and after having stopped for a few minutes at one Baker’s, who answered our questions with savage moroseness, we passed Captina creek on the right, emptying into the Ohio through an extensive bottom, with three mills and several settlements on it.
A mile lower, on the left is Baker’s station, which has the appearance of an old settlement.[79]
About three miles below Captina creek we stopped on the left at Mr. Cressop’s fine farm. He was on the plantation overseeing his labourers, but Mrs. Cressop received us politely. She is young and very handsome, and her employments of rocking her infant in its cradle while she exercised her needle, did not diminish any thing of her beauty or respectability. She is sister in law to Mr. Luther Martin, a celebrated lawyer of Baltimore.[80]
Mr. Cressop owns a thousand acres of land here in one body, most of it first rate bottom, his cottage is well furnished, and he has a neat and good garden.
A little lower we passed Woods’s fine island, about a mile long, and stopped just beyond it at Biddle’s tavern on the left, at the conflux of Fish creek[81] and the Ohio, a mile and a half below Cressop’s. Biddle keeps a ferry over Fish creek, which is a fine deep stream, fifty yards wide, running thirty miles through the country, but having no mills on it yet.
Mr. and Mrs. Biddle are kind and hospitable, decent in their manners, and reasonable in their charges. He is a tenant of Mr. Robert Woods, whose house and extensive improvements we had passed at Roland’s ferry near Wheeling.
Biddle pays a rent of one hundred dollars per annum, for which he has a right to cultivate and build wherever he pleases on Woods’s land, Mr. Woods paying him per valuation for the buildings. The house he now resides in cost him six hundred dollars, {100} which he has been repaid. He has cleared and cultivated the land for some distance round the house, and he has ten acres in corn on the island, which contains fifty acres of the first quality of soil above the highest flood marks, the rest being liable to inundation.
At nine o’clock, we landed on the left at John Wells’s, seven miles from Biddle’s. It was a fine night. Eight or nine young men who had been reaping for Wells during the day, were stretched out at their ease on the ground, round the door of the cabin, listening to the vocal performance of one of their comrades, who well merited their attention, from the goodness of his voice, his taste, execution, variety and humour. We enjoyed a rural supper, while listening to the rustick chorister, then resisting our friendly host’s invitation to accept of a bed, and provided with a light and some milk for next morning’s breakfast, we retired to our skiff, threw out a night line to fish, and endeavoured to compose ourselves to sleep under our awning. We were much disturbed throughout the night by gnats and musquitoes, attracted probably by our light, before extinguishing of which, we killed a winged animal of the fly kind, the largest of the species I had ever seen. It was about three inches long, with four gauzy wings, and a most formidable display of forceps on each side the mouth, like those of a scorpion, for which reason it might be named not improperly a winged scorpion, though it is probably not venomous like it.
Wells and his wife are a young couple who removed last spring to this place, from his father’s, an opulent farmer, eighteen miles lower down the river. They are kind and obliging, and better informed than one might expect, from their limited opportunities of acquiring knowledge in so remote a situation. Mrs. Wells, though a delicately formed woman, and with {101} twin boys only six weeks old, both of whom she nurses, seemed neither to have, nor to require any assistance in her domestick employments, yet both plenty and order were observable throughout her cabin. Though we were much incommoded here by musquitoes, yet I must observe, that comparatively with the country to the eastward of the Allegheny mountains, particularly near the sea coast, in the vicinity of salt marshes, we found very few of those troublesome insects, in our descent of the Ohio, and though we occasionally heard the unwelcome hum of a few solitary ones, we never once saw or heard a swarm of them: we were however sometimes at night, when sleeping in our skiff, infested by gnats or sand flies, but not in such numbers as we might have expected on a river in the warmest season of the year.