The next large place we arrived at was Harrisburg, the capital of the State of Pennsylvania: it was midnight when we reached it; but I immediately walked to look at the State-house, where the legislature assembles, and about which are ranged the public offices.
The mass appeared large; and the effect of the buildings with their lofty classic porticos, viewed under the influence of a fine starlight night, was imposing enough: the situation is well chosen, appearing like a natural elevation in the midst of a plain, and overlooking the waters of the Susquehannah, above whose banks the city is built.
One always feels something like disappointment on entering one of these capitals, although previously aware that the site is selected with regard only to the general convenience of the community, and without reference to the probabilities of its ever becoming important for its trade or of monstrous size. A European accustomed to seek in the capital of a country the highest specimens of its excellence in art, and the utmost of its refinement in literature, and indeed, in all which relates to society, is necessarily hard to reconcile to these small rustic cities, whose population is doubled by villages he has only heard named for the first time whilst journeying on his way to the Liliputian mistress of them all. As places of meeting for the legislature, I am of those who think the smallness of the population an advantage. Firstly, the members are freed from the expense consequent upon living in large cities; and next, the chambers are removed from having their deliberations overawed or impeded by any of those sudden outbreaks of popular madness to which all people are prone, and to which the nature of this government more immediately exposes it, without possessing any power quickly to arrest or even control such licence.
Harrisburg is highly spoken of for the salubrity as well as the beauty of its site, and gives promise of becoming important in point of population; at present its inhabitants are about four thousand.
From this we steered away to the southward, until at Chambersburg we struck the direct road leading from Baltimore to Pittsburg. We had a rough night of it; but a halt of an hour at Chambersburg in the morning, enabled me to make a comfortable toilet and get an excellent breakfast. Here we took the first spur of the mountains, and from this were on a continual ascent.
Up the longer and steeper hills I constantly walked, and was often an hour in advance of the stage. This mountain region is certainly a very fine one, and I do not think its grandeur has ever been done justice to in description. Its attributes are all gigantic: it has the picturesque ruggedness of the Appenines, without their barrenness; since the valleys lying between the ridges, wherever they have been cleared, give evidences of the richest soil. A view from any hill top, however, shows these clearings to be mere specks in the surrounding forest, which yet clothes richly the sides of each interminable ridge you cross, fringes their most rugged summits, and waves over the loftiest peaks.
At Bedford Springs there is a most excellent inn; but the one at a miserable village called Macconnelville, presented an aspect anything but inviting: the precaution of Mr. Head, however, had made me independent of supplies. On quitting the Mansion-house he had fitted up a small basket with sundry comforts, which were of infinite use to myself and comrades, they served as a speedy introduction and a durable cement to our friendship.
I like these Western men; their off-hand manner makes you at once at your ease with them: they abound in anecdote growing out of the state in which they live, full of wild frolic and hardy adventure, and they recount these adventures with an exaggeration of figure quite Oriental, in a phraseology peculiar to themselves, and with a manner most humorous.
Much amongst strangers, they have a quick appreciation of character; and, where they take a dislike, are, I have no doubt, mighty troublesome customers; they are, however, naturally courteous, and capable of genuine and inbred kindness, as a little anecdote of my present trip will serve to illustrate.
On the morning of our second night out, I observed the Major and his friends holding a council just as we were stepping into the coach. We were eight persons, which gave three sitters to two of the seats and two to the third; by way of relief, my servant or myself frequently mounted the box, enabling the parties to separate,—a luxury of no mean importance. On this occasion I noticed, on being about to take my seat, which was the front one, that it was unoccupied, Sam being on the box, and three persons on each of the other seats. On requesting that one of the sitters by my fat friend would share the vacant front with me, the Major informed me that the arrangement was preconcerted, as they knew I was not quite so well used to rough roads as they were, and had work before me on getting to my journey's end; begging me to fix myself comfortably on the seat, and try and sleep for an hour or two.