When the stage was at last made ready for its journey we took our places in it, but no sooner was the village left behind than we encountered very rough roads, which for a time caused great discomfort; our feelings were expressed by all the passengers, but at length we reached a tavern named "Cable Roussed," where our horses were changed. We next stopped at the "John Campbell" tavern, and saw many drunkards about; then at "Peter White's," almost at the foot of the mountains, where we were each treated to a glass of excellent fresh milk. Still going on and approaching the mountains, the roads became so excessively rough that Audubon and myself decided to proceed on foot. Though this was a three-mile climb, we managed to cover it in three and a half hours. So bad in truth was the road that it seemed well nigh impossible for any vehicle to ascend the mountain; the stage did go up, however, and reached the summit soon after us. On the heights of the mountain was a small tavern where refreshments were served, and while partaking of a light lunch there we were waited on by a couple named Currie, and James, their hired man. While we were refreshing ourselves, our host told harrowing tales of wild-animal hunting in the mountains, and assured us that there were many beasts in the surrounding woods. Leaving the summit in the stage, we continued for some distance, but the jolting, rolling and swaying was so frightful that we decided to descend on foot. The three miles down the mountain was covered quickly, but we were utterly worn out with fatigue when we reached McConnelsburg; this village lies in a valley, has few houses and but little of interest; we made forty miles during the day. Leaving early on the next morning, after traveling thirty-two miles, over better roads, we spent the night at the tavern of B. Mastin.
Having breakfasted at an early hour, we were again on our way by sunrise, and after driving two miles came to the Juniata River, which was crossed in a leaky flatboat. Eight miles beyond this point we saw a very fine and stately mansion which was said to belong to a Mrs. Haily. Finally after a hard and tiresome day we arrived at Bedford. The Juniata River flows along Bedford in a narrow bed, between high mountain walls; the village is situated in the valley, and boasts many fine stores and residences. We were told that about fourteen miles farther on there were mineral springs, the waters of which possessed great curative properties, and that many people visited them each season; time, however, did not permit us to visit this resort.
Six horses were hitched to our stage when we departed the next morning. The mountain roads ascended more gradually, and were less rough; the weather being exceptionally fine, forty miles were easily made before reaching our destination at a village called Somerset, which contained a courthouse that marked it at once as the county seat. At four o'clock of the morning following we were again on our way, and left Somerset in a heavy fog, which at that early hour sharply accentuated the chill in the air. At the end of the day we found ourselves at Laurel Hill, where we passed the night at the tavern of John Arranats.
Again at four in the morning we resumed our journey, and after crossing Laurel Creek once more encountered rough roads, but soon reached a tavern called the "Jacob Hoff," where we breakfasted. Still pushing forward, at noon we came to the small house of a family called Margennefs, and procured a meager lunch. At a short distance from this place a change of horses was made, and after driving all the afternoon we entered the attractive village of Greensburg, where we spent the night. Rising reluctantly at peep of day, we continued on our course and made ten miles before breakfasting at a tavern, the "Stewart Auberge" by name. After leaving this point we came to Turtle Creek, when the road descended so abruptly that it was decided to dismount and walk, but the heat was sultry and oppressive, and we suffered greatly. At last, however, the city of Pittsburgh was reached, and there we found good and commodious lodgings at the Jefferson Hotel, conducted by Mr. Galland, a most genial and agreeable host. We remained in Pittsburgh several days, and became acquainted with many of its citizens, among whom were several countrymen of ours who were engaged in business and were very congenial and hospitable. The city does not present a pleasing appearance; it has been increasing in size with astounding rapidity,[166] and possesses a remarkable commerce; the Ohio River there is most beautiful.
The remainder of our journey was by way of the Ohio, and we made it entirely in an open flatboat, a cumbersome unwieldy craft, managed by hand, and in this particular instance very badly. One who has never had this experience can little understand the terrible monotony, hardships and deprivations encountered on a long journey such as we endured. We were unprotected from the elements, and our beds consisted of bare pine boards, upon which we slept as best we could, enveloped in our great coats.
There were times without number when our boat would run upon hidden sand bars to become grounded, and we were then often obliged to get into the cold water and assist in the work of extricating her. At other times, unprotected as we were, the rains drenched us to the skin, and our clothing was so saturated that it took many hours to dry. At night when it was clear, we continued our course down the river, but, in bad weather, or when very cloudy and dark, we were obliged to tie up to the shore, frequently to the bank of some wild, uninhabited island, and wait there for daylight; then we would resume our slow, tedious and seemingly never ending journey. Added to these hardships, our boat was commanded by a most disagreeable and ungentlemanly captain, named Harris; his language, and demeanor marked him as a person of low birth and bad character.
Among some of the places which were passed en route, I remember the following: Wheeling, Marietta, Market Slough, famous for the conspiracy of Colonel Burr, Belleville, Litards Falls, Point Pleasant, Manchester, Maysville, Cincinnati, and finally our journey's end, Louisville.
At Louisville the partners were attracted by the country and its prospects, as well as by the hospitable character of the people. Their choice, as they then thought, had been well made, and they decided to make it their future home. "We marked Louisville," said Audubon, "as a spot designed by nature to become a place of great importance, and had we been as wise as we now are, I might never have published The Birds of America; for a few hundred dollars laid out, at that period, in lands or town lots near Louisville, would, if left to grow over with grass to a date ten years past [this being 1835], have become an immense fortune, but young heads are on young shoulders; it was not to be, and who cares."[167]
Rozier did not say when either they or their goods reached the pioneer settlement, but from an item in their account current with the Bakewell house,[168] it is evident that they opened a retail shop in Louisville at once, for on September 29 they were charged with $57 for an order of powder horns and shotbags. In the same record there is a more interesting entry under date of December 31, 1807: "advanced per [sailing packet] Jane, for indigo and expences ... $1,516.43," ordered evidently through Mr. Bakewell, presumably for export to France. This incident Audubon must have had in mind when in after life he wrote: "The mercantile business did not suit me. The very first venture which I undertook was in indigo; it cost me several hundred pounds, the whole of which was lost." It may be recalled that in his letter of April 24 of this year, Audubon wrote Francois Rozier[169] that the Bakewell house had sent him a consignment of indigo by the same ship, Captain Sammis, and hoped for its favorable sale in France. No doubt the venture succeeded so well that the young traders were induced to repeat the experiment. As it happened, however, on December 22, a week before this entry for the indigo was made, the famous Embargo Act of President Jefferson had taken effect, with the result of cutting off all exports to England and France and at the same time of paralyzing American trade. The Bakewell house, as we have already noticed, like so many others, immediately went down, and the partners found that their tobacco and other western produce found so little sale in New York that by April 7, 1808, they were obliged to call for an extension of their notes.
Notwithstanding the gloomy outlook for trade, Audubon had no fears for the future. As early as March, 1808, he left Rozier in Kentucky and returned to Pennsylvania. No time was lost in making known his plans to Lucy Bakewell and her family, and having received their approval, the lovers prepared for the adventurous journey that was to celebrate their wedding. Audubon was married to Miss Bakewell, at "Fatland Ford," on Friday, April 8, 1808, by the Reverend Doctor Latimer, an Episcopal clergyman of Philadelphia, and on the next morning started with his bride for the frontier. This event must be regarded as the most auspicious in his career, for in all probability the world would never have heard of Audubon had it not been for the spur to his ambition and the balance wheel to his character which came through his admirable wife.