[18]. Our farmer does not seem to have well understood the import of this word, but we may readily guess at his meaning.
“We can hear nothing from the poor creature now (in his ravings) but of the captain and Billy—of ranges—townships— numbers—thousands—hundreds—acres—Bath— fairs—races—heats—bets—purses—silk stockings—fortunes—fevers—agues, &c. &c. &c. My son has part of a township for sale, and it is diverting enough to hear him narrate its pedigree, qualities, and situation. In fine, it lies near Bath, and the captain himself once owned, and for a long time reserved it. It cost my son but five dollars per acre; he was offered six in half a minute after his purchase; but he is positively determined to have eight, besides some precious reserves. One thing is very much in my boy’s favour—he has six years credit. Another thing is still more so—he is not worth a sous, nor ever will be at this rate. Previous to his late excursion the lad worked well, and was contented at home on my farm; but now work is out of the question with him. There is no managing my boy at home; these golden dreams still beckon him back to Bath, where, as he says, no one need either work or starve; where, though a man may have the ague nine months in the year, he may console himself in spending the other three fashionably at the races.
“A Farmer.”
“Hanover, October 25th, 1796.”
The town of Bath stands on a plain, surrounded on three sides by hills of a moderate height. The plain is almost wholly divested of its trees; but the hills are still uncleared, and have a very pleasing appearance from the town. At the foot of the hills runs a stream of pure water, over a bed of gravel, which is called Conhocton Creek. There is a very considerable fall in this creek just above the town, which affords one of the finest seats for mills possible. Extensive saw and flour mills have already been erected upon it, the principal saw in the former of which gave, when we visited the mill, one hundred and twenty strokes in a minute, sufficient to cut, in the same space of time, seven square feet, superficial measure, of oak timber; yet the miller informed us, that when the water was high it would cut much faster.
CONHOCTON CREEK.
Conhocton Creek, about twenty miles below Bath, falls into Tyoga River, which, after a course of about thirty miles, empties itself into the eastern branch of the River Susquehannah. During floods you may go down in light bateaux along the creek, Tyoga and Susquehannah rivers, the whole way from Bath to the Chesapeak Bay, without interruption; and in the fall of the year there is generally water sufficient for canoes from Bath downwards; but owing to the great drought that prevailed through every part of the country this year, the depth of water in the creek was found insufficient to float even a canoe of the smallest size. Had it been practicable, it was our intention to have proceeded from Bath by water; but finding that it was not, we once more set off on foot, and pursued our way along the banks of the river till we came to a small village of eight or ten houses, called Newtown, about thirty miles distant from Bath. Here we found the stream tolerably deep, and the people informed us, that excepting at one or two narrow shoals, they were certain that in every part of it, lower down, there was sufficient water for canoes; accordingly, determined to be our own watermen, being five in number including our servants, we purchased a couple of canoes from two farmers, who lived on the banks of the river, and having lashed them together, in order to render them more steady and safe, we put our baggage on board, and boldly embarked.
CANOES STRANDED.
It was about three o’clock on a remarkably clear though cold afternoon that we left the village, and the current being strong, we hoped to be able to reach before night a tavern, situated, as we were told, on the banks of the river, about six miles below Newtown. For the first two miles we got on extremely well; but beyond this the river proving to be much shallower than we had been led to believe, we found it a matter of the utmost difficulty to proceed. Our canoes repeatedly struck upon the shoals, and so much time was consumed in setting them again free, that before we had accomplished more than two thirds of our voyage the day closed. As night advanced a very sensible change was observable in the weather; a heavy shower of hail came pouring down, and, involved in thick darkness, whilst the moon was obscured by a cloud, our canoes were drifted by the current, to which, being unable to see our way, we had consigned them, on a bank in the middle of the river. In endeavouring to extricate ourselves we unfortunately, owing to the darkness, took a wrong direction, and at the end of a few minutes found our canoes so firmly wedged in the gravel that it was impossible to move them. Nothing now remained to be done but for every one of us to jump into the water, and to put his shoulder to the canoes. This we accordingly did, and having previously unlashed, in order to render them more manageable, we in a short time contrived to haul one of them into deep water; here, however, the rapidity of the current was so great, that notwithstanding all our endeavours to the contrary, the canoe was forcibly swept away from us, and in the attempt to hold it fast we had the misfortune to see it nearly filled with water.
Deprived thus of one of our canoes, and of a great part of our baggage in it, which, for ought we knew, was irrecoverably lost, we determined to proceed more cautiously with the remaining one; having returned, therefore, to the bank, we carried every thing that was in the canoe on our shoulders to the shore, which was about forty yards distant; no very easy or agreeable task, as the water reached up to our waists, and the current was so strong that it was with the utmost difficulty we could keep our feet. The canoe being emptied, we brought it, as nearly as we could guess, to the spot where the other one had been swept away from us, and one of the party then getting into it with a paddle, we committed it, pursuant to his desire, to the stream, hoping that it would be carried down after the other, and that thus we should be able to recover both it and the things which it contained. In a few seconds the stream carried the canoe out of our sight, for the moon shone but faintly through the clouds, and being all of us totally unacquainted with the river, we could not but feel some concern for the personal safety of our companion. Before many minutes, however, were elapsed, we had the satisfaction of hearing his voice at a distance, and having made the best of our way along the shore to the spot from whence the sound proceeded, we had the satisfaction to find that he had been carried in safety close beside the canoe which had been lost, we were not a little pleased also at finding our portmanteaus at the bottom of the canoe, though well soaked in water; but such of our clothes as we had taken off preparatory to going into the water, together with several light articles, were all lost.