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]