The other letter, dated at the “Head Waters of Buffalo,” the thirteenth of July, is as follows.
“My dearest H,
“I need not say how much I feel for you, on account of the disagreeable situation in which you last wrote. The only advice, I believe, which I thought it necessary to give you, at leaving you, was to keep up your spirits and endeavour to bear the fatigues of the office. What will you say, or what will you think, when I tell you, I believe it scarcely possible for any thing to contribute so much to reconcile me to your absence, as the aversion I have to the plagues of that same office.
“You have heard the reports concerning the Indians. We are still ignorant of the true state of matters; but, from every information we can get, it seems very improbable that we shall cross the Ohio this summer: on this side of the river, we do not apprehend the least danger.
“On Saturday last, we suddenly emerged from the gloomy, uncultivated desert, into a habitable country; and encamped with joy in an open field where we could once more see the heavens around us,—a sight we had not been blest with, for five weeks past. Wheat, rye, and Indian-corn, growing, afforded a very pleasing sight; even the barking of dogs and crowing of cocks were agreeable. The next day being Sunday, several of the neighbours, their wives and daughters, paid us a visit; and amongst them, at least one spruce young lady, bred at the metropolis, Fort-Pitt.[[225]] But would you believe it? such is my unreasonable and incurable aversion to company, that their visits soon became irksome. They hindered me from enjoying a lonely walk, or some passage in Milton,—or, perhaps, a loll on my bed. Nay, even our fellow-commissioners, the Virginians, I mean; I sometimes wish their wine was better, and flowed more plentifully: not that I might enjoy it with them; but that I might enjoy myself the more, alone.
“Whether you will believe me or not, I do not know; but my health is really much better. As I told you in my last, my old complaint is the only one I have; and this is, and has been for several weeks, infinitely more supportable, than I have known it for months together. I do not, indeed, flatter myself with a cure; it is, in all probability, fixed for life: but an alleviation of the pain I have usually felt, is to me of much importance.
“We have, for three weeks past, had a much greater proportion of dry weather; and in this country, when it does not rain, the sky is always fair, of a beautiful blue, and the air serene. There has been nothing like a storm, nor scarce a puff of wind, since we came here. Though thunder, lightning, and rain, are so very frequent, they are never attended with high winds, nor scarcely a perceptible motion of the air. For a month past, we had a very decent woman to cook for us, but some little family broils obliged us to pack her home again. Our boys have, however, learnt from her to bake good bread, and to cook much better than they did. I mention this, because you will be pleased with any thing that can contribute to my comfort.
“I expect several opportunities of writing, before we reach the Ohio, none of which shall be neglected. I must lay down the pen, to retire to rest after the fatigues of the day. Wishing you a very good night, I conclude, &c. your ever affectionate
“David Rittenhouse.