September 23. From beds which we last night saw on the floor of the bar-room, a numerous group of Swiss emigrants had arisen. One of them, an old man with a long beard, has a truly patriarchal appearance. The females wear hats, and are of a hardy and masculine form.
About a mile from Macconnel’s Town, is the foot of another steep ridge; a new road over it is nearly finished. Here we met with a foot traveller, who told us that he had settled in Illinois, by the Wabash, about fifty miles above Vincennes. The ground, he said, “is as good as ever man set foot on.”[32] He had not heard of Mr. Birkbeck’s settlement: this, together with his appearance, convinced us that he is a hunter of the woods. He was on his way to remove his family from New York state, a journey of 1400 miles.
Called at Noble’s tavern for breakfast. The hostess could not accommodate us with it. She was in great bustle, having thirty highway labourers {48} at board, had no bread baked, and politely expressed her regret at being so circumstanced, but assured us, that, by going half a mile forward to the next tavern, we would be attended to. Mr. Noble is a member of the Pennsylvania Senate; the frank and obliging disposition of his wife demands my acknowledgment.
At the next tavern the prediction of a breakfast was verified: it was largely furnished, but not with the greatest dispatch.
The forenoon was hot, something like the greatest heat I have felt in Scotland. The mornings and evenings were agreeably cool, the air usually still, and the sky highly serene.
Sidelong-hill is a steep ascent. The waggon path is worn into a deep rut or ravine, so that carriages cannot pass one another in some parts of it. The first waggoner that gets into the track, blows a horn, to warn others against meeting him in the narrow pass. The waggoners are understood to be as friendly toward one another as seamen are, and that cases are not wanting, where one has waited several days, assisting another to refit his carriage.
On Sidelong-hill we came up with a singular party of travellers,—a man with his wife and ten children. The eldest of the progeny had the youngest tied on his back; and the father pushed a wheelbarrow, containing the moveables of the family. They were removing from New Jersey to the State of Ohio, a land journey of 340 miles to Pittsburg. Abrupt edges of rocks, higher than the wheel, occasionally interrupt the passage. Their humble carriage must be lifted over these. A little farther onward we passed a young woman, carrying a sucking child in her arms, and leading a very little one by the hand. It is impossible to take particular notice {49} of all the travellers on the way. We could scarcely look before or behind, without seeing some of them. The Canterbury pilgrims were not so diversified nor so interesting as these.
Crossed the river Juniata by a wooden bridge, supported by two strong chains, hung in the manner of a slack rope, over the tops of posts, (one at each end,) about twenty feet higher than the road. The curve formed by the chain passes low enough to come under, and support several of the cross beams under the middle of the bridge. Other parts of the bridge are supported by perpendicular ties, that pass, from the roadway upward, to the chains. The Juniata runs here in a deep chasm, between cliffs of slate clay; the bridge has consequently a magical effect. The river is shallow, but at other seasons of the year is navigable. The land is poor and parched, and is formed of steep, irregular knolls.
Passed Bloody Run, a town of a very few houses, but with two taverns. A romantic site in a low valley of the Juniata. The declining light of the evening had softened the outline of the timber on the hills beyond the river, so that the scene brought to my recollection the heaths of a well known land.
Stopped for the night in a tolerably good tavern, two miles from Bloody Run. The bar-room is nearly filled with people. On our being shewn to a more retired apartment, I could see one person make a wry face, and then smile to his acquaintance. It would seem that our being separated from the large party, was not attended by the most pleasant sensations.