FOOTNOTES:
[148] Cambridge was made the seat of Guernsey County when the latter was established in 1811.—Ed.
CHAPTER XXXIV
Proceed on foot—Washington—Frankfort—Morristown—Usual consequences of a militia muster—St. Clairsville—Another traveller—Indian Wheeling—Canton—River Ohio and Zane’s island—Wheeling—Part with my fellow traveller.
On Tuesday the 18th August, the stage being only to go fifteen miles, and the same distance next day, on account of the arrangement of the carriage of the mails, rather than travel such a snail’s pace, I proceeded on foot, leaving my baggage to follow in the stage. The first five miles were excellent road, over a long but not very high ridge of hills, without a single house to Washington, or Beymerstown, as it is more generally called, from its being owned by the family of Beymer, two of whom keep taverns in it.—It has twelve cabins, four of which are taverns, and a blacksmith’s shop.
Four and a half miles further have no inhabitants; the road is still good, but is led over several high, short and steep ridges, which generally run from north to south. Then passing a cabin and farm, in half a mile more I came to Frankfort or Smithstown, where I breakfasted. This is a small village or rather hamlet of eight or ten houses and cabins, some of which, as well as several in the neighbourhood, are inhabited by families from Peeks-hill in New York, many of whom regret their having removed {209} from thence to this place, and with great reason, if one may judge from the appearance of the soil, which is all a red and yellow clay, very stiff, and apparently very unproductive.
The country now became better settled, but still continued very hilly. I walked on, passing Wherry’s tavern where the stage was to sleep at five miles, and stopping at Bradshaw’s, where I rested about half an hour, and got some refreshment. This family is from the county Monaghan in Ireland. Their house is too small for an inn, but they have a good farm. Ten miles further brought me to Morristown, through a similar hilly country, with a succession of woods and farms, the latter at every mile, and a tavern at every two miles.
On the road I met in straggling parties above fifty horsemen with rifles, who had been in Morristown at a militia muster, for the purpose of volunteering, or of being drafted to serve against Britain, in case of a war with that country, now much talked of. Most of them were above half seas over, and they travelled with much noise—some singing, some swearing, some quarrelling, some laughing, according to their different natural dispositions, which are always most manifest when in that unguarded situation.
I found Morristown, where I arrived just before dark, all in a bustle from the same cause, many of the country people remaining to a late hour, drinking and fighting.
My host Morrison who is a justice of the peace, and a major of the militia, had shut his house against them, but there was another tavern, where squire Morrison, while commanding the peace, during an affray, came in for his share of the blows, and had his shirt torn.