{275} The woods abound in pigeons, a small species of fowls which migrates to the southward in winter, and return to the north in spring. Their numbers are so immense that they sometimes move in clouds, upwards of a mile in length. At the time when they are passing, the people have good sport in shooting them, as one flock frequently succeeds another before the gun can be reloaded. The parts of the woods where they roost, are distinguished by the trees having their branches broken off, and many of them deadened by the pressure of the myriads that alight upon them.

The number of grasshoppers is amazingly great. A swarm of them rises from amongst the grass or weeds, at every footstep of the pedestrian. Some large species are winged, and can fly to the distance of twelve, and even twenty yards. This remark applies to every part of America which I have seen. The country abounds with a multitude of insects, much diversified in species, colours, and habits. Wasps and hornets are extremely numerous. I have not suffered from mosquitoes in the degree that I had been taught to expect.

Sept. 28. Clarkville and Leesburg are two very small towns. Passed a young man who was lame, I believe, from a rheumatic affection, a complaint that is pretty frequent in this country, from the quick transitions in the temperature of the climate. This traveller told me that he was on his return from New Orleans, having gone down the river in the capacity of boatman, and that he had travelled most of the way homeward on foot. On my suggesting that he should remain with a farmer for a few days, where he might work at the harvest, a kind of labour which does not require much locomotion, he told me that he had applied to several, but they refused to give him employment.

{276} The road between Leesburg and Munro is over high ridges and deep ravines. The country here (Highland County) is allowed to be healthy, but a dense population must be accumulated before the natural obstacles to communication can be surmounted. The bridges here, as in other new settlements, are nothing more than two long trees thrown over the stream, about eight feet apart, with split or round pieces of timber laid across these, side by side. In the case of a deep ravine, the road is directly down the bank to the end of the bridge.

Sept. 29. Greenfield and Oldtown are two small towns. The former has made considerable progress of late. The woods were assuming the colours of autumn. This change was accelerated by slight frosts which occurred on two mornings, about the time of the equinox. The sugar-maple, the dogwood, and the beech, were the most forward.

I remained for the night with an old tavern-keeper, who had been a soldier in the revolutionary service. He is proprietor of a good farm, which is occupied by his son-in-law, who, last year, raised nine hundred bushels, including corn and wheat, by his individual exertions. I had previously heard of a negro from Kentucky, who, in the same year, settled on a prairie near Vincennes, and there raised a thousand bushels of corn. The last of these quantities may be assumed as a full maximum of the produce that may be raised by one man, even where great fertility of soil, industry, and health, conspire together. But as this quantity of grain would now sell for only two hundred and fifty dollars, without deducting the expense of carrying it to market, or allowing any thing for the provender of a horse, while the wages of a labourer may be {277} now fairly stated at three hundred and fifty dollars for a year, it is evident that farmers, from such a small return, cannot hire the labour of other people.

On the 30th I crossed the Great Sciota, a river that is great indeed in times of wet weather; but the ford, which is at the head of a stream, was not then more than eight or nine inches deep. The river, notwithstanding, retains a grandeur that is not unbecoming its name. The stream is broad, covering nearly the whole of its capacious bed. The water is limpid, and the banks are covered with a growth of stupendous sycamores and other large trees.

Pickaway Plains consist of flat land.[151] The clear part is a prairie, entirely destitute of trees, and is about seven miles long and five broad. To a European, who has been upwards of two years immersed in the woods, such a clear space is truly exhilarating. It was while proceeding along a fine smooth road, at a brisk trot, that I suddenly discovered I was making my entrée into the plain.—The air was still, clear, and admitted of the most distinct vision, so that I could see a distant blue ridge of high land, which I supposed to be in Kentucky. After having advanced about half a mile into the open space, I observed a long cloud of dust over the road. The fore part of this train seemed at my horse’s feet, and under my vehicle, and the other end of it was in that part of the wood from whence I emerged. Possibly a native of the American woods might be more surprised on his first entering a prairie than I was, but I have a doubt whether his sensations would be as pleasant as mine were.

The soil is of a dark coloured earth, apparently mixed with a large portion of vegetable matter, and {278} lies on a gravelly subsoil. When extremely rich lands are spoken of in this part of the country, they are apt to be compared with Pickaway. The inhabitants of the plain are occasionally visited by agues.

I believe that I have not heretofore mentioned any particulars respecting the dust of the roads of this country. The clothes of travellers are frequently covered with it, and it passes through the smallest crevices, into trunks and packing boxes. This may probably arise from the heat of the climate, which dries the mud very much, or from the fine division of the earthy particles, and perhaps from the abundance of vegetable matters intermixed.