The Allegheny rises between two and three hundred miles following its different meanders, N. E. of Pittsburgh. Its current runs about three miles an hour except in floods, when it is sometimes impelled at the rate of six or seven. Its banks were uninhabited except by the aborigines, and a line of distant posts fortified by the French, to preserve the communication by this route between Canada and Louisiana, previous to the conquest of the former country by the British in 1759; also to prevent the extension of the Anglo-American settlements to the westward of this river; and to command the friendship and trade of the Indians; and to prevent as much as possible the English from participating with them in those advantages. Within the last twenty years, the Indians disliking the extension of the American settlements into their neighbourhood, have abandoned this whole tract of country, and have retired to Sandusky, about three hundred miles further west, with the exception of a tribe under a celebrated chief called the Cornplanter, which has a town and settlement near the Allegheny about 120 miles from Pittsburgh,[44] and which is gradually falling into an agricultural life.[45]
{74}The Europe-American settlements (as I call them from their consisting principally of emigrants from Britain, Ireland, and Germany, particularly the two latter) now extend not only to the banks of the Allegheny, but crossing that river, the country has become {75} populous, and many thriving towns have been erected throughout the whole country south of lake Erie, not only in Pennsylvania, but in the adjoining new state of Ohio, which latter has been settled in that tract, by emigrants from the state of Connecticut,[46] to whom Pittsburgh is indebted for a good supply of cheese[47] not inferior to English.
The navigation of the Allegheny is easy for boats called keels from fifty to seventy feet long, sharp at both ends, drawing little water, carrying a good burthen, and calculated to be set against the stream, so as to surmount it from eight to twenty miles a day in proportion to the strength of the current operating against them. The water of this river is uncommonly clear, occasioned by its gravelly bottom and the rapidity of its current; and the fish are harder, firmer, and more delicious, than those caught in the Monongahela, which rising in the Laurel mountain in Virginia, pursues a northern course about two hundred miles, (the last half of which is through a rich and populous country) until it unites with the Allegheny at Pittsburgh. Flowing generally through a more level country than the Allegheny, its current {76} is much more placid, but its waters are always muddy, from which circumstance it derives its name, which in the Indian dialect signifies muddy from the mouldering in of banks. Both it and the Allegheny abound in fish, of which the white salmon, the perch, the pike and the cat-fish are most esteemed; there are however several other species.[48]
The Ohio into which we had now entered, takes its name from its signifying bloody in the Indian tongue, which is only a modern appellation bestowed on it about the beginning of the last century by the five nations, after a successful war, in which they succeeded in subjugating some other tribes on its banks.[49] It was called by the French La belle Riviere, which was a very appropriate epithet, as perhaps throughout its long course it is not exceeded in beauty by any other river. It was always known before as a continuation of the Allegheny, though it more resembles the Monongahela, both in the muddiness of its waters, and its size: the latter being about five hundred yards wide, whereas the former is only about four hundred yards in breadth opposite Pittsburgh.
Leaving the glass house on the left, we passed on the same hand Saw-mill run, a mill stream with a long wooden bridge crossing it to Elliot’s mills, the bridge forming a handsome object in the view. Elliot has here a delightful spring, bubbling its cool pelucid water from the side of the rocky bason which receives it, from which it is conveyed by a pipe through his spring-house, the roof of which joins the shed which covers the spring.
We passed Robinson’s point on the right with a fine level, or bottom, as I shall in future according to {77} the language of the country call all the flats between the hills and the banks of the river. This bottom well settled and cultivated, extends to about four miles below Pittsburgh, having Brunot’s island opposite its lower extremity. This island contains near three hundred acres of a most luxuriant soil, about half of which has been cleared by Dr. Brunot, a native of France, who adds hospitality and sociality to the abundance which he derives from his well cultivated farm.[50] He has judiciously left the timber standing on the end of the island nearest Pittsburgh, through which, and a beautiful locust grove of about twelve acres, an avenue from his upper landing is led with taste and judgement about half a mile to his house, which is a good two story cottage, with large barns, and other appropriate offices near it, and an excellent garden and nursery. He has fenced the farm in such a way, as to leave a delightful promenade all round it, between the fences, and the margin of the river, which he has purposely left fringed with the native wood about sixty yards wide, except where occasional openings are made either for landings, or views, the latter of which are very fine, particularly that of M’Kee’s romantick rocks opposite, impending over the narrow rapid which separates them from the island. M’Kee’s fine farm between the rocks and the mouth of Chartier creek, and the creek itself, which meanders through a great part of the rich and plentiful county of Washington, affording also fine subjects for the landscape painter.[51]
On entering the channel to the right of Brunot’s island, I could not avoid a sensation of melancholy, from its reminding me of the death of my valued friend George Cochran, esq. of Natchez, who about three years ago was drowned here together with a Mr. M’Farlane of Elizabethtown, by the skiff, in which they were going from the shore to a brig belonging to the latter, being carried by the current {78} against the brig’s cable, and overset. In his death, his friends had cause to lament the loss of a warm hearted, benevolent, generous, and properly conducted man in every sense of the word, and the world was deprived of one of those characters, which is occasionally but rarely allowed it, to prevent that general obloquy to which it would otherwise be subjected from the natural depravity of mankind.
I was not acquainted with Mr. M’Farlane, but from the manner in which I have heard him spoken of by those who were, he merited a longer enjoyment of this probationary life. They were found two days after, a few miles below, brought to Pittsburgh, and interred in two adjoining graves, in the burying ground of the new Presbyterian meeting-house.
Passing his garden, we gave and received an adieu from Dr. Brunot, and the recollection of a social and agreeable day, which I enjoyed with a party at his house on the 4th of this month, when he had a few friends to commemorate that anniversary of a new era in the annals of history, the Independence of the United States of America, aided to dispel those gloomy, selfish ideas, which we who remain behind can seldom avoid indulging, when we think on our being for ever deprived of society which was dear to us—even though we have every reason to be certain that they were prepared for whatever fate may await them in futurity, and though we know that longer continuance here, might have subjected the subject of our regret to some of those casualties in the affairs of men, which might have embittered their future life.
The course of the river is generally about N. N. W. from Pittsburgh to Beaver, about twenty-eight miles. We continued to descend it, our attention occupied by frequent changes of prospect, caused by its winding course. From the point below Brunot’s island, is a fine vista of the river with hills on the right and {79} a bottom on the left; a very high hill in front cultivated on the top, Baldwin’s mill on the right three miles distant, reflected by the water to double its size; the well frequented road to Beaver on the same hand, and farms and farm houses in view of each other; the scenery enlivened by multitudes of fish sporting near the surface of the glassy element. Baldwin’s mill-house is well built of stone over a dam in the river, which conveys the water to the wheel, from whence it runs out under the arch which supports the house.