A Ramble of Six Thousand Miles through the United States of America

by S. A. Ferrall

In 1766, Kentucky was first explored, by John Finlay, an Indian trader, Colonel Daniel Boon, and others. They again visited it in 1769, when the whole party, excepting Boon, were slain by the Indians—he escaped, and reached North Carolina, where he then resided. Accompanied by about forty expert hunters, comprised in five families, in the year 1775, he set forward to make a settlement in the country. They erected a fort on the banks of the Kentucky river, and being joined by several other adventurers, they finally succeeded. The Kentuckians tell of many a bloody battle fought by these pioneers, and boast that their country has been gained, every inch, by conquest.

The climate of Kentucky is favourable to the growth of hemp, flax, tobacco, and all kinds of grain. The greater portion of the soil is rich loam, black, or mixed with reddish earth, generally to the depth of five or six feet, on a limestone bottom. The produce of corn is about sixty bushels on an average per acre, and of wheat about thirty-five; cotton is partially cultivated. The scenery is varied, and the country well watered.

The Kentuckians all carry large pocket knives, which they never fail to use in a scuffle; and you may see a gentleman seated at the tavern door, balanced on two legs of a chair, picking his teeth with a knife, the blade of which is full six inches long, or cutting the benches, posts, or any thing else that may lie within his reach. Notwithstanding this, the Kentuckians are by no means more quarrelsome than any other people of the western states; and they are vastly less so than the people of Ireland. But when they do commence hostilities, they fight with great bitterness, as do most Americans, biting, gouging, and cutting unrelentingly.

I never went into a court-house in the west in summer, without observing that the judges and lawyers had their feet invariably placed upon the desks before them, and raised much higher than their heads. This, however, is only in the western country; for in the courts at Orleans, New York, and Philadelphia, the greatest order and regularity is observed. I had been told that the judges often slept upon the bench; but I must confess, that although I have entered court-houses at all seasons during the space of fifteen months, I never saw an instance of it. I have frequently remonstrated with the Americans, on the total absence of forms and ceremonies in their courts of justice, and was commonly answered by "Yes, that may be quite necessary in England, in order to overawe a parcel of ignorant creatures, who have no share in making the laws; but with us, a man's a man, whether he have a silk gown on him or not; and I guess he can decide quite as well without a big wig as with one. You see, we have done with wiggery of all kinds; and if one of our judges were to wear such an appendage, he'd be taken for a merry-andrew, and the court would become a kind of show-box—instead of such arrangements producing with us solemnity, they would produce nothing but laughter, and the greatest possible irregularity."

I was present at an election in the interior of the state. The office was that of representative in the state legislature, and the candidates were a hatter and a saddler; the former was also a militia major, and a Methodist preacher, of the Percival and Gordon school, who eschewed the devil and all the backsliding abominations of the flesh, as in duty bound. Sundry "stump orations" were delivered on the occasion, for the enlightenment of the electors; and towards the close of the proceedings, by way of an appropriate finale, the aforesaid triune-citizen and another gentleman, had a gouging scrape on the hustings. The major in this contest proved himself to be a true Kentuckian; that is, half a horse, and half an alligator; which contributed not a little to ensure his return. After the election, I was conversing with one of the most violent opponents of the successful candidate, and remarked to him, that I supposed he would rally his forces at the next election to put out the major: he replied, "I can't tell that!" I said, "why? will you not oppose him?" "Oh!" he says, "for that matter, he may do his duty pretty well." "And do you mean to say," continued I, "that if he should do so, you will give him no opposition?" He looked at me, as if he did not clearly comprehend, and said, "Why, I guess not."

The boatmen of the Ohio and Mississippi are the most riotous and lawless set of people in America, and the least inclined to submit to the constituted authorities. At Cincinnati I saw one of those persons arrested, on the wharf, for debt. He seemed little inclined to submit; as, could he contrive to escape to the opposite shore, he was safe. He called upon his companions in the flat-boat, who came instantly to his assistance, and were apparently ready to rescue him from the clutches of this trans-Atlantic bum-bailiff. The constable instantly pulled out—not a pistol, but a small piece of paper, and said, "I take him in the name of the States." The messmates of this unfortunate navigator looked at him for some time, and then one of them said drily, "I guess you must go with the constable." Subsequently, at New York, one evening returning to my hotel, I heard a row in a tavern, and wishing to see the process of capturing refractory citizens, I entered with some other persons. The constable was there unsupported by any of his brethren, and it seemed to me to be morally impossible that, without assistance, he could take half a dozen fellows, who were with difficulty restrained from whipping each other. However, his hand seemed to be as potent as the famous magic wand of Armida, for on placing it on the shoulders of the combatants, they fell into the ranks, and marched off with him as quietly as if they had been sheep. The rationale of the matter is this: those men had all exercised the franchise, if not in the election of these very constables, of others, and they therefore not only considered it to be their duty to support the constable's authority, but actually felt a strong inclination to do so. Because they knew that the authority he exercised was only delegated to him by themselves, and that, in resisting him, they would resist their own sovereignty. Even in large towns in the western country, the constable has no men under his command, but always finds most powerful allies in the citizens themselves, whenever a lawless scoundrel, or a culprit is to be captured.

At Flemingsburg I saw an Albino, a female about fourteen years old. Her parents were clear negros, of the Congo or Guinea race, and in every thing but colour she perfectly resembled them. Her form, face, and hair, possessed the true negro characteristics—curved shins, projecting jaw, retreating forehead, and woolly head. The skin was rather whiter than that of the generality of Europeans, but was deficient in glossiness, and although perfectly smooth, had a dry appearance. The wool on the head was of a light flaxen colour, and the iris of the eye was of a reddish-blue tinge. Her eyes were so weak as to bear with difficulty the glare of day. Most Albinos are dim sighted until twilight, when they appear to have as perfect vision as persons with the strongest sight, and in many cases, even more acute. This individual had evidently weak sight, as the eyelids were generally half closed, and she always held her head down during day light.

Near the banks of the Ohio, full three hundred miles from the sea, I found conglomerations of marine shells, mixed with siliceous earth; and in nearly all the runs throughout Kentucky, limestone pebbles are found, bearing the perfect impressions of the interior of shells. The most abundant proofs are every where exhibited, that at one period the vast savannahs and lofty mountains of the New world were submerged; and perhaps the present bed of the ocean was once covered with verdure, and the seat of the sorrows and joys of myriads of human beings, who erected cities, and built pyramids, and monuments, which Time has long since swept away, and wrapt in his eternal mantle of oblivion. That a constant, but almost imperceptible change is hourly taking place in the earth's surface, appears to be established; and independent of the extraordinary bouleversements, which have at intervals convulsed our globe, this gradual revolution has produced, and will produce again, a total alteration in the face of nature.