They seem to have some sense of religious worship, as at several times, when passing their cabins, I have seen them sitting or kneeling in different postures, at which time they will remain fixed in their position without even turning their heads, let what will come. This ceremony they perform after losing a near relative, but how long they continue in this posture I know not. Once or twice I saw four poles stuck in the ground, with forked ends up, and sticks laid across at little distances, on which was a large roll of bark. On inquiry I was told that in this bark was the remains of a deceased person, who, after remaining there the accustomed time, would be taken down and buried.
They are very affectionate to each other, especially to their children, whom they treat with great kindness and attention. We arrived at Mr. Tallbot’s late in the evening, and tarried there till next morning, when we crossed the river, about one mile, and landed in the state of Tennessee. This gave us fresh hopes of finishing our journey among civilized people. We travelled about nine miles, and came to a house where we changed our clothes and refreshed ourselves. I disposed of my blanket, cooking utensils, &c., which I had prepared for my journey through the wilderness, and moved on with a small bundle in my hand, which enabled me to travel very easily, being freed from my former load. I kept company with my companions two days, when they were to leave my road. We bade each other farewell, and I was once more left alone. I pursued on, and came to a village where was a large three story brick tavern; they appeared like New-England people. Thinking I should here find what I had long been wishing for, salt provision, I waited till dinner was ready, and to my joy I saw a large dish of salt beef and vegetables placed on the table. In company with a number of gentlemen, I sat down and feasted my appetite till the last man rose from the table. Although I had eaten twice or three times the quantity of food I had been accustomed to, yet I was not satisfied; and at supper I renewed my hold on the salt [48] beef, to the neglect of pies, cakes, &c. I went to bed fully satisfied, but awoke about midnight in most distressing pain, and almost famishing with thirst. I got up, went down stairs in search of some person, but could find none. I then opened the outside door, and the rain was pouring down in torrents. I saw an old tub standing under the eaves, full of water. I ventured out, put my mouth to the tub and drank several times; I then waited a few minutes, drank again, and went in. All this did not satisfy my thirst; but as I was very wet, being but partly dressed, I went to my bed, shivering with cold, and after getting a little warm, fell asleep. I awoke in about two hours, in much the same situation as at first, went to the old tub again, and drank with the same eagerness. I then went back to my bed scarcely able to crawl, and passed the remainder of the night in a sleepless and distressed condition. Early in the morning, hearing some of the family up, I went down, sat by the fire, and seemed to myself but little more than alive. Breakfast being called, I had no appetite, and waiting till eleven o’clock I sat out on my way, and pursued on as well as I could till about sunset, when I had gained eight miles, and came to a planter’s house, who invited me to stay with him all night, which invitation I accepted. But nothing could I eat till the next day, and continued travelling in this situation four or five days, when my appetite began to return, and I recovered my strength fast, so that in a few days I was able to travel my usual distance. Passing through a number of fine villages and towns, the largest of which was Nashville, I arrived at Lexington,[[24]] Kentucky, where I found people very friendly, and willing to assist the weary traveller on all occasions. From thence I pursued on my course till I arrived at the Ohio river, and crossed over into Cincinnati, in the afternoon of the forty-seventh day from my leaving New-Orleans; having performed a journey of one thousand miles only. The next morning I walked out in the streets, and met one of my first companions with whom I started from New-Orleans. He lived a few miles above, on the Kentucky side of the river. He informed me he had been at home twenty-two days, and told me that the third day after we parted another man stopped, and the fifth day [49] two more, and before he was three fourths of the way through his journey, there was only himself and one other left. Some from being lame, and others sick, and what has become of them, said he, I know not; you are the only one I have seen or heard from.
I remained at this place a few days, and then went out about ten miles to a town called Madison.[[25]] It being now the month of April, and fearing my old complaint, the fever and ague, I resolved to quit the Ohio river, and go out to Detroit in the Michigan territory. A gentleman from that place was soon expected here for his family, who at this time resided in this neighborhood. The lady hearing of my determination, called on me, and wished me to stay there till her husband’s return, and then accompany them to Detroit. This was a pleasant thing to me as I was wholly unacquainted with the road through that country. The gentleman did not return until the first of August, when he arrived with a waggon and horses, and after suitable preparations were made, he took his wife and children with some light baggage, and we commenced our journey.
We found the roads very rough for about eighty miles, when we came on to the prairie grounds. We had laid in a good stock of provisions, knowing that in consequence of the late war the country was nearly drained. We now came to where the water was very bad, the country being flat and the water stagnant. After straining it would still exhibit live insects, which they call wiggles. The inhabitants were few and scattering, but the soil remarkably good, the grass growing five or six feet high, interspersed with flowers of all colors, which gave it a delightful appearance. It is thought by many that this part of the country was once overflown with water, and what adds to the probability is the number of little hills or rises of land, covered with trees, standing in these prairie grounds, like so many islands, as probably they once were. Great numbers of cattle are drove from Kentucky and elsewhere to feed on these grounds, and soon become very fat. We camped out two nights, and by forming tents with blankets made ourselves very comfortable, and slept without any apprehension, except from the prairie rattlesnake, a small but very poisonous reptile, [50] frequently to be seen in those parts. After a slow but safe journey, we arrived at Lower Sandusky,[[26]] two hundred miles on our way. Here we sent our horses on by the mail carrier, went on board of a vessel at the foot of the Sandusky Rapids, so called, and went down the Sandusky river to the Lower Sandusky bay, to a small town called Venice.[[27]] At this place but two years before, not a tree had been fallen; now, between twenty and thirty log houses are built, two large framed store houses, and two wharves for the accommodation of the back country traders. Vessels of considerable size come up lake Erie and deposite their loading here, being but six miles from the lake. The next day after our arrival, president Monroe, with a number of distinguished officers, stopped here, on his tour through the Western country.[[28]] We stayed here two days, when we hired a man to carry us across the lake in a boat. We laid in but a small quantity of provision as the distance was but seventy miles, and with a fair wind could run it in less than a day. We set sail at noon with a fair breeze, and ran up the lake about twenty miles, keeping near the shore. About an hour before sunset it became calm, and not wishing to be exposed on the open lake in the night, we ran into a creek a short distance and made our boat fast to a stake, which had been set there by some one before us. We found there another boat with two men encamped on a pleasant beach. The gentleman with his family and pilot went on shore and encamped also. I chose to remain on board. They formed now a considerable company, four men, one woman and three children. They built up a large fire, got supper, prepared camps for the night, and laid down in quietude, expecting a quiet night’s rest. But the clouds gathered up fast, and between eight and nine o’clock the wind blew violently, and they gathered up their blankets and clothing and tried to get on board the boat, but she lay so far from shore that with all my assistance they could not accomplish their object. The fire had all blown away and not a spark left. The night was dark, and the rain poured down in torrents; there was no shelter, not even a tree to defend them from the tempest. The three men took each of them a child, wrapped it in a blanket, [51] and sat down upon such clothing or bedding as came nearest to hand. The other man and the woman were obliged to sit without anything but their clothing. I often called to them from the boat, but the howling of the tempest prevented me from being heard. In this situation they all remained about eight hours till daylight, when it ceased to rain, but the wind continued to blow very hard. I then moved the stern of the boat round and got on shore; but the sight of these weather-beaten objects presented a spectacle I cannot describe. The children, however, had been kept considerably comfortable through the night. The woman acknowledged she was alive, and that was all that could be said of her; the men appeared much better than I should have supposed. As for myself, I was comfortably situated, and should have slept well had it not been for the anxiety I felt for my unhappy fellow-travellers on shore. The lake now appeared more like the Atlantic than like an inland navigation, the waves running so high that it was impossible for us to venture out; and the high grass and a few bushes at a little distance promising some assistance in sheltering us from the storm, we evacuated the old post and retired to them for shelter, where with the help of our blankets and other things we contrived so to break the wind as to enable us to kindle up a fire sufficient to warm and dry ourselves. We then prepared the remainder of our scanty food, which was sufficient for a meal after reserving a part of it for the woman and her children. We remained here through the day and night, the wind still blowing a gale. The next morning very early, three men went in search of provisions, and did not return till three o’clock in the afternoon. They had travelled all that time and found but one house, where they obtained three small loaves of bread, which were enough for the woman and children only. The wind had now ceased to blow, and the lake was nearly smooth; and after feeding the children we put our things on board, and made up the lake shore. At sunset judging ourselves about thirty miles from Detroit, we ventured out on the open lake with our oars only to move us ahead; we rowed all night, and at daylight discovered the town of Malden[[29]] about six miles directly ahead, on the [52] Canada shore; and a little breeze springing up, we hoisted sail, and a little after sunrise landed half a mile below the town. We went up, found a market, purchased fresh beef, bread, &c., and had a fine breakfast; it having been forty-eight hours since we had eaten any thing before. We now had eighteen miles to stem a strong current with our oars only, before reaching Detroit. At ten o’clock we moved on, and after having labored hard till two o’clock in the morning, we made up to the city of Detroit,[[30]] and went to a tavern, the landlord of which had formerly been an acquaintance of ours. He, by some means or other, had heard of our being on the lake in the blow I have mentioned; himself and several others manned a vessel and went in pursuit of us; but after making every possible search in vain, he returned, supposing we must have been lost; but was most agreeably surprised when he saw us under his own roof.
I remained here a few days, and then embarked on board a vessel, and went down the lake in search of the property I had left in the neighborhood of Fort Erie, Upper Canada, at the commencement of the late war, as I have before mentioned. I arrived at Buffalo, and inquired for the two gentlemen with whom I had left my business, and found they were both dead. I then crossed over the river, and went to my old friend’s house, and to my surprise found he was dead also. His unhappy widow informed me that soon after my departure he was arrested by order of the British government, and committed to prison, which was the last account she had of him; but supposed that he made his escape, and either fell into the hands of the Indians, or that in attempting to cross the lake was drowned. The person who last had charge of my property was an American born, but had become a British subject; he took an active part in the late war against his own countrymen, and still persisted in so doing; and totally refused to pay my demand. The persons with whom I conversed on the subject, advised me to let it remain as it was; observing that although the two governments were now at peace, yet a personal envy still existed between individuals of the two nations, if not between the governments; and as [53] the Court of King’s Bench was now closing its session, and would not sit again until a year from that time, there could be no action tried for a long time. This discouraged me and I gave it up, purchased a horse, saddle and bridle, and returned by land through this Upper Province to Detroit. On my journey back to Detroit, I was most sensibly struck with the devastations which had been made by the late war: beautiful farms, formerly in high cultivation, now laid waste; houses entirely evacuated and forsaken; provision of all kinds very scarce; and where once peace and plenty abounded, poverty and destruction now stalked over the land. I returned to Detroit, where I remained the most of my time till the fall of eighteen hundred and eighteen; when not yet satisfied with roving about, I started, in November, in company with another man, for the central part of Ohio. The roads at this season of the year were very bad through the Michigan Territory, which we were now travelling. We passed over the battle ground of Frenchtown and river Raison;[[31]] to the river forty miles; thence to Maumee rapids, forty miles; our nearest way now to go to Sandusky river was thirty-five miles. On this last route we had no road; the only guide for the traveller was marked trees.[[32]] The first morning missed our way, got lost in the wilderness, and wandered about till three o’clock in the afternoon, when we came to the old marked trees; we walked on until sunset, when we were obliged to halt; struck up a fire, broiled some pork, on the end of a stick, and with some bread refreshed ourselves; but without drink, as there was no water fit for use. We laid ourselves down by the body of an old tree, and partly got to sleep, but were aroused from our slumbers by the horrid howling of a wolf, who had walked up close to our backs. My companion was in great fear, and would have run had I not stated to him the danger of leaving the fire. He stopped, jumped up and down, hallooing with all his might. Not being much acquainted with these animals, he considered his situation very dangerous. After some time I persuaded him to lie down again, but it was not long before the sound redoubled on our ears; his fears became greater than before, as he found there was no retreat. I laid down myself, [54] but could not possibly persuade him and he remained in motion, and sometimes with yells which almost equalled the wolves, through the night. Early in the morning we collected our things and moved on; about nine o’clock came to a running stream of water; this was a delicious treat to us, although I drank heartily several times before I could taste in the least, my mouth had become so exceedingly dry. We now began to think we had lost our way, but pursued on the same course till we came to a log house, where we found a very friendly man who kept a house of entertainment. We got some refreshment, and gave him an account of our travel. He said it was a common thing for travellers to get lost on that way, and informed us that we had gained but fifteen miles. Just as he was saying this, a large wolf came up close to the door, but seeing us, ran furiously into the woods; this, probably, was our visitor the last night. On inquiry we found the distance to the next house seventeen miles. At eleven o’clock we started, determined to see the end of the woods that day; and after blundering over stumps and rocks, and through mud till ten o’clock at night, we arrived at the village of Lower Sandusky. Here I left my fellow-traveller, and travelled on to the town of Greenville.[[33]] I tarried there till Spring, and from thence went to a village called Portland, on Lower Sandusky bay, where I arrived in April, 1819, fully satisfied with roving.[[34]]
Here I found a pleasant village containing about twenty-five houses, besides two taverns, three large stores and store houses, and three wharves of a considerable length; the water being of a sufficient depth for vessels to come up and discharge their cargoes. The steamboat stops here on her passage, and leaves many passengers, taking in others, &c. The land in and about this village is owned by two men from Connecticut, who calculated, probably, on a large town or city, but it has not answered their expectations, people finding the place very unhealthy, owing to the badness of the water. The unhealthiness of the place, however, continues only from about the middle of July through the fall months; the remaining part of the year is considered healthy. In the month of March, wishing to go on to Cunningham’s [55] Island[[35]] with another man, we took a canoe, and getting three others to assist us, we made a rope fast to the bow of the canoe, and drew it across the bay two miles, which was frozen over, to the lake which was not frozen. When we were about half way across, one man on one side of the canoe and myself on the other, both fell in, the ice breaking under us; but being one on each side, we balanced the canoe and kept our heads out of water until the other men broke the thin ice and drew the canoe partly up on to that which was solid, and we crawled up, and thus escaped a watery grave. We then went on, and reached the other shore. It being late in the afternoon, our friends left us and returned. The beach here was clear of snow and ice. We turned our boat up on one side so that it might make a partial shelter for us during the night, and built a fire in front. We then walked across the neck of land to the other side, saw the lake clear of ice except a few floating pieces. Our object in crossing the bay that afternoon was, that we might be ready to start on the lake early in the morning, when there is generally but little wind, it being then easier and safer, the water being smooth. We then returned back to our boat, rekindled our fire, took our supper, dried my clothes as well as I could, and camped for the night. But soon the wind began to blow, and the snow fell very fast; within two hours it blew a heavy gale; our fire was blown away, the boat fell over, and our only course was to run back and forth upon the beach to prevent our perishing in the storm, which sometimes appeared impossible for me to do. At length, to our great joy, the morning came, the wind ceased, and the snow abated. The ice, which we crossed in the afternoon, was broken up and driven into heaps, with the addition of what had driven from the lake, and all up and down the lake shore presented the same dreary appearance. We were now hemmed in on all sides, and it was impossible to cross either with a boat or on foot, and our only resource was, to prepare a camp in the woods, which we did by cutting down trees and bushes, sticking the ends into the ground which was not frozen, and forming the tops together over our heads. We thus made us a comfortable cabin, built a large fire, ate our [56] breakfast, and dried our clothes. We here remained seven days, when all our provision had become exhausted, except some dry beans; these boiled in water were made to supply the place of every other necessary; and although we were compelled to acknowledge the flavor was not quite so good, yet we were thankful that we had this means of preserving ourselves from complete starvation. We were now in sight of the village, and kept a large fire burning in the night to satisfy the people that we were alive. During the day we were constantly watching for the separation of the ice, so that we might pass; and on the seventh day, in the afternoon, we thought we might accomplish our retreat. Accordingly we put our boat into the water, and our things on board, and with a pole pushing the ice from the boat, we made our way along for some distance, when we saw a boat coming in the same manner to meet us. Coming up with her, found it to be the same men who crossed the bay with us on the ice, and who had come to relieve us. They turned their boat about, and we all arrived safely home the same evening without accomplishing our visit to Cunningham’s Island.
The inhabitants of the village remained very healthy until July, when a new complaint of the eyes became epidemic among them. It attacked all ages and sexes without distinction, and, with some, would, in a few days, cause total blindness.
This complaint is, I believe, what physicians call the Egyptian Opthalmia.[[36]] Some, who were very prompt in their applications, were fortunate enough to recover their sight after a considerable time; and others, not made wholly blind, never saw so well as before. Many of the inhabitants were attacked with fever and ague, and these generally escaped the more formidable disease of the eyes.
As for myself, I remained perfectly well until November, when, one morning, my right eye was attacked with inflammation and swelling; and the next morning my left eye was attacked in the same manner. The inflammation gradually increased, so that in about three weeks I was totally blind. My surgeon, a very skilful man, made every exertion for my recovery, and about the middle [57] of December I could discern light; and in ten or twelve days after, could distinguish colors. My surgeon now being called into another section of the country, was absent about three weeks, when, from the want of proper assistance, I grew worse, and was again in total darkness. On his return, using every means in his power, I was so far restored in a few weeks as to be able to discern light; and continuing very slowly to gain until the first of April. I could then see to distinguish capital letters.
A neighboring physician then calling in, advised my old surgeon to make a new application, which he did, and to the expense of the total loss of my sight. I now almost gave up all hopes of recovery; but not willing wholly to despair, attempts were once more made; and by the middle of August I could once more discern colors. Hearing much said of the eye infirmary in the city of New-York, I resolved to visit that place; and on the thirteenth of August, 1821, went on board a steamboat, proceeded down the lake two hundred and fifty miles to Buffalo; thence in a waggon one hundred and six miles to Geneva;[[37]] then went on board a boat down the Seneca Lake, crossed the Cayuga Lake into the Erie canal,[[38]] thence to Utica, where I took the stage for Albany. After travelling about forty-five miles, was attacked with fever and ague, and was obliged to stop three days; then went on board a boat down the Mohawk river to Schenectady,[[39]] then in a waggon to Albany, where I tarried three weeks, and then went on board a packet to New-York, where I arrived the first day of October. I stayed here five days, called at the infirmary several times, and conversed with different patients who had been there for a considerable time; they discouraged me by saying they had found little or no relief, and thought there were no hopes for me; at the same time adding, that if I would go to Boston, I might do much better. I considered the thing well, took their advice, was assisted out on the turnpike, where on foot and alone I proceeded on through New Haven, Hartford and Worcester, and without difficulty found the way to Concord, Massachusetts, where I arrived on the twentieth of October, after an absence of six years. Some time after [58] this I applied to several of the most eminent physicians and surgeons in Boston, and finally went into the General Hospital in that place, where I underwent various medical and surgical treatment to no effect; and giving up all hope of ever enjoying that light which the benevolent Creator has ordained for the happiness and comfort of man, I have hitherto spent my time comfortably, destitute of property, in the company and society of my friends.