Early Western Travels
1748-1846

Volume IV

Early Western Travels
1748-1846

A Series of Annotated Reprints of some of the best
and rarest contemporary volumes of travel, descriptive
of the Aborigines and Social and
Economic Conditions in the Middle
and Far West, during the Period
of Early American Settlement
Edited with Notes, Introductions, Index, etc., by

Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.

Editor of “The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents,” “Wisconsin
Historical Collections,” “Chronicles of Border Warfare,”
“Hennepin’s New Discovery,” etc.
Volume IV

Cuming’s Tour to the Western Country (1807-1809)

Cleveland, Ohio
The Arthur H. Clark Company
1904

Copyright 1904, by
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The Lakeside Press
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY
CHICAGO

CONTENTS OF VOLUME IV

ILLUSTRATION TO VOLUME IV

PREFACE TO VOLUME IV

We devote the fourth volume of our series of Western Travels to the reprint of Fortescue Cuming’s Sketches of a Tour to the Western Country—the tour having been made in 1807-1809, the publication itself issuing from a Pittsburg press in 1810.

Of Cuming himself, we have no information save such as is gleaned from his book. He appears to have been an Englishman of culture and refinement, who had travelled extensively in other lands—notably the West Indies, France, Switzerland, and Italy. It is certain that he journeyed to good purpose, with an intelligent, open mind, free from local prejudices, and with trained habits of observation. Cuming was what one may call a good traveller—he endured the inconveniences, annoyances, and vicissitudes of the road, especially in a new and rough country, with equanimity and philosophic patience, deliberately making the best of each day’s happenings, thus proving himself an experienced and agreeable man of the world.

The journeys narrated were taken during two succeeding years. The first, in January, 1807, was a pedestrian tour from Philadelphia to Pittsburg. Arriving in the latter city on the second of February, after twenty-seven days upon the road, the remainder of the winter, the spring, and the early summer were passed at Pittsburg. On the eighteenth of July following, our traveller took boat from Pittsburg, and made his way down the Ohio to the Kentucky entrepôt at Maysville—where he arrived the thirtieth of the month. Mounting a horse, he made a brief trip through Kentucky as far as Lexington and Frankfort, returning to Maysville on the fifth of August. The following day, he crossed the Ohio, and after examining lands in the vicinity, proceeded partly on foot, partly by stage and saddle, over the newly-opened state road of Ohio, through Chillicothe, Lancaster, and Zanesville to Wheeling; thence back to Pittsburg, where he arrived the evening of August 21.

The following year (1808), Cuming begins his narrative at the point on the Ohio where he had left the river the previous year—at Maysville, whence he embarked on the seventh of May for Mississippi Territory. With the same fulness of detail and accurate notation that characterize his former narrative, Cuming describes the voyage down the Ohio and the Mississippi until his arrival at Bayou Pierre on the sixth of June, after a month afloat.

Starting from Bruinsbury, at the mouth of Bayou Pierre, August 22, he took a horseback trip through the settlements of Mississippi Territory lying along the river and some distance inland on its tributaries—Cole’s Creek, St. Catharine’s Bayou, the Homochito, etc.—penetrating the then Spanish territory of West Florida as far as Baton Rouge, and returning by a similar route to Bruinsbury, where he arrived the fifteenth of September.

At this point Cuming’s tour is concluded. In order to give completeness to the work, however, the first editor added the journal of a voyage taken in 1799 “by a gentleman of accurate observation, a passenger in a New Orleans boat.” From just above Bayou Pierre, this anonymous author departed on the ninth of February for New Orleans, where he arrived on the twenty-third of the same month. Embarking therefrom March 12, he reached Philadelphia after a month’s voyage via Havana and the Atlantic shore. His narrative is far less effective than that of Cuming.

Like a well bred man of affairs, Cuming never intrudes his private business upon our attention; but incidentally we learn that his first Western journey from Pittsburg was undertaken at least in part to observe some lands in Ohio, which he had previously purchased in Europe, and with whose situation and location he was agreeably surprised. The journey to Mississippi appears to have been undertaken with a view to making his home in that territory. The place and date signed to the preface—“Mississippi territory, 20th Oct. 1809”—would indicate that he had decided upon remaining where he had found the social life so much to his taste, and some of his former friends and acquaintances had settled.

It is the natural impulse of almost every traveller to record the events of a somewhat unusual tour. Cuming wished, also, to afford information to Europeans and Eastern men of “a country, in its infancy, which from its rapid improvement in a very few years, will form a wonderful contrast to its present state.” His attitude was sympathetic towards the new and raw regions through which he travelled; nevertheless this fact does not appear to have unduly affected his purpose of giving an accurate picture of what he saw. He does not slur over the disadvantages, nor extenuate any of the crudeness or vulgarity; but at the same time portrays the possibilities of the new land, its remarkable growth, its opportunities for development, and the vigor and enterprise of its inhabitants.

In plain, dispassionate style, he has given us a picture of American life in the West, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, that for clear-cut outlines and fidelity of presentation has the effect of a series of photographic representations. In this consists the value of the book for students of American history. We miss entirely those evidences of amused tolerance and superficial criticism that characterize so many English books of his day, recounting travels in the United States—a state of mind sometimes developing into strong prejudice and evident distaste, such as made Dickens’s American Notes a caricature of conditions in the new country.

It is essentially a backwoods life to which Cuming introduces us, although not in the first stages of its struggle for existence. Indian alarms are a thing of the past, a large percentage of the land is cleared, the people have better dwellings than in the log-cabin days, there is now rude abundance and plenty, and the beginnings of educational opportunities, social intercourse, and the amenities of civilized life. The pioneers themselves—Indian fighters and skilful hunters—have become rare. Here and there Cuming encounters a former Indian captive, like Andrew Ellison, or a scout and ranger, like Peter Neiswonger; but as a rule it is the second generation whom he meets, or members of the second tide of emigrants that came in after the Revolution—officers in the army, younger sons of the better classes, who by energy and capacity bettered their fortunes in the West, built for themselves good homes, laid out towns, developed orchards, farms, and plantations, and were living in that atmosphere of prosperity which heralded the ultimate fortunes of the new land.

Nevertheless, the inheritances of the older days of struggle and primitive society are still in evidence—the lack of facilities at the small country inns, the coarseness and rudeness of the manner of living, the heavy drinking and boisterous amusements of the young, the fighting, the incivility to travellers, the boorishness of manners. All these are relics of the early days when the rough struggle with the wilderness developed the cruder rather than the finer virtues of men. On the other hand, as we have already pointed out, Cuming shows us the hopeful elements of this new land: not only its wonderful material prosperity, its democratic spirit and sense of fairness, but its adaptability, its hospitality for new ideas, the beginnings of the fine art of good living, and eagerness to promote schools, churches, and the organizations for the higher life.

Some of the particular features recorded by Cuming, that are now obsolete, are the use of lotteries for raising money for public purposes, and the prevalence of highway robbery in the unsettled parts of the country. The restlessness of the population is also worthy of note—the long journeys for trivial purposes, the abandoned settlements in Kentucky and Illinois.

Especially valuable for purposes of comparison, is Cuming’s accurate account of the towns through which he passed—their size and appearance, number and kind of manufactures, business methods and interests. Characteristic of the period also, is the enterprise of the inhabitants—townsites laid out at every available position, speculation in lands, and large confidence in the future of the region. In that confidence Cuming appears fully to have shared. Already, he tells us, food-stuffs were being exported to Europe, the growth of the cotton industry promised large returns, the richness of the soil and the resources and fertility of the land fostered high hopes.

In regard to social conditions, our author writes at a time when the formerly uniform and homogeneous character of the Western population was beginning to break up, especially in the slave states and territories, and when the professional classes and large land-owners were taking a leading position in affairs. He notes particularly the importance and assumption of leadership on the part of the lawyers. The virulent excitement of political life is one of the features of his observations that his first editor attempted to excuse and modify. It was doubtless true that the incidents attendant upon the arrest and trial of Burr had especially aroused the section through which Cuming passed. It is probable, however, that his portrayal of the animosity of political divisions is substantially accurate; and that not only did “politics run high” at the tavern and political club, but it controlled the social coterie, and in early American society adjusted lines of relationship more strictly than is evident to-day.

The areas which Cuming visited were those, with the exception of Tennessee, in which were to be found the most characteristic features of Western life. Western Pennsylvania and Northwestern Virginia comprised a homogeneous population, living under similar conditions. Closely allied was Kentucky, although it was beginning to be modified by settled conditions, the prosperity of low, rich pasture lands, and its distance from Eastern markets. In Ohio, however, Cuming encountered the New England element—but well mixed with Southerners on the Virginia bounty lands, French of the Gallipolis settlement, and New Jersey and Middle States emigration to the region of the Miamis. His narrative, continued down the Ohio, shows the scarcity of population in Indiana and Illinois, and in Kentucky below Louisville; also the frontier character of that region as far down the Mississippi as the Natchez district. Here again, Cuming meets with an area of settlement begun under the British rule of West Florida, and continued under Spanish authority, until a few years before his voyage. In Mississippi, he portrays to us the beginnings of plantation life—the large estates, with gangs of negroes; the hospitality, cultivation, and charm of the upper classes, jostled by the rude waifs and strays that the river traffic wafted to their landings. In spite of diversities, the characteristics of Western life had much sameness—the mingling of the population, the shifting of people from all sections, and the dependence upon the rivers as the great arteries of Western commerce, with its ultimate outlet by way of the Mississippi and New Orleans.

Cuming’s work was not immediately published after writing. The manuscript passed into the possession of Zadok Cramer, a Pittsburg printer who was particularly interested in Ohio and Mississippi navigation, for which he published a technical guide called The Navigator, that ran through numerous editions. Cramer annotated Cuming’s manuscript, adding thereto a considerable appendix of heterogeneous matter—collected, as he says in his advertisement, “from various sources while the press was going on with the work, and frequently was I hurried by the compositors to furnish copy from hour to hour.” This material, much of it irrelevant and reprinted from other works, the present Editor has thought best to omit. It ranges from a description of the bridge at Trenton to Pike’s tour through Louisiana—embracing such diverse matter as “Of the character of the Quakers,” “Sculptures of the American Aborigines,” and “Particulars of John Law’s Mississippi Scheme.”

The hope of Cramer that a second edition would soon be called for, was not fulfilled. Put forth in 1810, the book has never been reprinted until the present edition, which it is believed will be welcomed by students of American history.

As in former volumes of the series, Louise Phelps Kellogg, Ph.D., of the Wisconsin Historical Library, has assisted in the preparation of the notes. The Editor desires, also, to acknowledge his obligations to Mrs. Frances C. Wordin, of Bridgeport, Connecticut, for valuable information concerning her grandfather, Dr. John Cummins, of Bayou Pierre, Mississippi.

R. G. T.

Madison, Wis., April, 1904.

Cuming’s Sketches of a Tour to the Western Country—1807-1809.

Reprint of the original edition (Pittsburgh, 1810). The Appendix, being composed of irrelevant matter, is herein omitted.

SKETCHES OF A TOUR
TO THE WESTERN COUNTRY,
THROUGH
THE STATES OF OHIO AND KENTUCKY;
A VOYAGE
DOWN THE OHIO AND MISSISSIPPI RIVERS,
AND A TRIP
THROUGH THE MISSISSIPPI TERRITORY, AND
PART OF WEST FLORIDA.
COMMENCED AT PHILADELPHIA IN THE WINTER
OF 1807, AND CONCLUDED IN 1809.
BY F. CUMING.
WITH NOTES AND AN APPENDIX,
CONTAINING
SOME INTERESTING FACTS, TOGETHER WITH
A NOTICE OF AN EXPEDITION THROUGH
LOUISIANA.
PITTSBURGH,

PRINTED & PUBLISHED BY CRAMER, SPEAR & EICHBAUM, FRANKLIN HEAD BOOKSTORE, IN MARKET, BETWEEN FRONT & SECOND STREETS—1810.

DISTRICT OF PENNSYLVANIA, to wit:

Be it remembered, That on the first day of May, in the thirty-fourth year of the Independence of the United States of America, A.D. 1810, Zadok Cramer, of the said district, hath deposited in this office, the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit:

Sketches of a Tour to the Western Country, through the States of Ohio and Kentucky; a Voyage down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and a Trip through the Mississippi territory, and part of West Florida. Commenced at Philadelphia in the winter of 1807, and concluded in 1809. By F. Cuming. With Notes and an Appendix, containing some interesting Facts, together with a notice of an Expedition through Louisiana.

In conformity to an act of the congress of the United States, intituled, “An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned.” And also to the act, entitled “An act supplementary to an act, entitled an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the time therein mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints.”

D. CALDWELL, clerk of
the district of Pennsylvania.

{iii} CONTENTS

OF EACH CHAPTER IN PART

PREFACE

The writer of the following tour would not trouble the reader with a Preface, did not some circumstances render it in a certain degree necessary.

It might be asked why he had not commenced the tour with a particular description of Philadelphia. His reasons for not doing so were, in the first place, Philadelphia is a city so minutely described in every modern geographical publication, that few readers are unacquainted with its local situation between the rivers Delaware and Schuylkill, its regularity of plan, its rapid progress, &c. Whereas the country through which the author travelled has been very little treated of by tourists, of course is little known to strangers; though an account of its appearance, its natural properties, its improvements, and the manners of its mixed population, perhaps merits a place on the shelves of the literati, as much as the numerous tours and travels through Europe, Asia and Africa with which they are loaded. Indeed, in one point of view, such a book may be much more useful, as it may serve for a record of the situation of a country, in its infancy, which from its rapid improvement in a very few years, will form a wonderful contrast to its present state, while the trans-Atlantick travellers have to treat of countries either arrived at the highest state of improvement, or of others buried in the gloom of ignorance and barbarity, and of course both stationary, and therefore not affording any variety of consequence, during the two last centuries, (in which time they have been the theme of so many able pens) excepting the style of writing and manner of description.

In the second place—It was the author’s wish to condense as much into one cheap volume as he could make it contain, and had he entered into minute descriptions of places the best known, he would [have] had so much the less room for the original matter, with which he intended to constitute the bulk of the work.

It was intended to have put the work to the press in the winter of 1807, the year in which the tour commenced, but a series of disappointments essayed by the author, has unavoidably postponed it, and has given him an opportunity of adding to the original plan, some account of the lower parts of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and the countries washed by them, particularly the Mississippi territory, which has become of great importance to the United States, and is not without its value to Europe, from its immense supply of cotton to the European manufacturers.

{viii} As the intention of the author was the increase of information, he makes no apology for the plainness of his style, and he expects, on that account, to be spared any criticism. Should however any one think proper to bestow a leisure hour in the remarking of his inaccuracies, or the incorrectness of his language, he can have no possible objection, as criticism of that kind always tends to general improvement.

THE AUTHOR

Mississippi territory, 20th Oct. 1809.

SKETCHES OF A TOUR

CHAPTER I

Commencement of journey—Schuylkill bridge—Schuylkill river—Downingstown—Brandywine creek—Pequea creek—New Holland—Conestoga creek and Bridge—Lancaster.

On 8th January 1807, I left Philadelphia on foot, accompanying a wagon which carried my baggage. I preferred this mode of travelling for several reasons. Not being pressed for time I wished to see as much of the country as possible; the roads were in fine order, and I had no incentive to make me desirous of reaching any point of my intended journey before my baggage. With respect to expence, there was little difference in my travelling in this manner, or on horseback, or in the stage, had I been unincumbered with baggage; for the delay on the road, awaiting the slow pace of a loaded wagon, which is not quite three miles an hour, and not exceeding twenty-six miles on a winter’s day, will occasion as great expence to a traveller in a distance exceeding two such days’ journey, as the same distance performed otherwise in less than half the time, including the charge of horse or stage hire.

The first object which struck me on the road, was the new bridge over the Schuylkill which does honour to its inventor for its originality of architecture, and its excellence of mechanism. There are two piers, the westernmost of which is a work perhaps unexampled in hydraulick architecture, from the depth to which it is sunk; the rock on which it stands being forty-one feet nine inches below common {10} high tides. Both piers were built within cofferdams: the design for the western was furnished by William Weston, esq. of Gainsborough in England, a celebrated hydraulick engineer. Eight hundred thousand feet of timber, board measure, were employed in and about it. Mr. Samuel Robinson of Philadelphia, executed the work of the piers under the directions of a president and five directors, who also superintended the mason work done by Mr. Thomas Vickers, on an uncommon plan, which has answered the intention perfectly well. The walls of the abutments and wings are perpendicular without buttresses, and supported by interior offsets. The eastern abutment is founded on a rock, the western on piles. There are near eight thousand tons of masonry in the western pier, many of the stones in it, as well as in the eastern, weighing from three to twelve tons. Several massive chains are worked in with the masonry, stretched across the piers in various positions; and the exterior is clamped and finished in the most substantial manner.

The frame of the superstructure was designed and erected by Mr. Timothy Palmer of Newburyport in Massachusetts, combining in its principles, that of ring posts and braces with a stone arch. The platform for travelling rises only eight feet from a horizontal line. The foot ways are five feet in width, elevated above the carriage ways, and neatly protected by posts and chains.

The whole of the bridge is covered by a roof, and the sides closed in, to preserve the timber from the decay occasioned by exposure to the weather. The side covering is done in imitation of masonry by sprinkling it with stone dust, while the painting was fresh: this is a novel mode of ornamenting and protecting the surfaces of wooden work exposed to weather, which from its goodness and cheapness will probably be brought into general use. The work of the {11} roof and covering was done by Mr. Owen Biddle, house carpenter in Philadelphia.

The bridge was six years in building, was finished in 1805, and cost in work and materials two hundred and thirty-five thousand dollars. The scite was purchased from the corporation of Philadelphia for forty thousand dollars.

This is the only covered wooden bridge we know of, excepting one over the Limmat in Switzerland, built by the same carpenter who erected the so much celebrated bridge of Schauffhausen, since destroyed, the model of which I have seen, and I think this of Schuylkill deserves the preference both for simplicity and strength. It is 550 feet long, and the abutments and wing walls are 750, making in all 1300 feet; the span of the middle arch is 195 feet, and that of the other two 150 each; it is 42 feet wide; the carriage way is 31 feet above the surface of the river, and the lower part of the roof is 13 feet above the carriage way; the depth of the water to the rock at the western pier is 42 feet, and at the eastern 21 feet.—The amount of the toll, which is very reasonable, was 14,600 dollars the first year after it was finished, which must increase very much in a country so rapidly improving. The proprietors are a company who have built commodious wharves on each side of the river, both for protection to the abutments of the bridge, and for the use of the city.[1]

{12} The Schuylkill is a fine river nearly two hundred yards broad at the bridge. It rises in the Cushetunk mountains about a hundred and twenty miles to the N. W. of Philadelphia. It is navigable for flat boats from the populous town of Reading about fifty miles above Philadelphia, but its navigation is impeded by falls about eight miles above the city, and by others about five miles above it, to which latter ones the tide flows, from its conflux with the Delaware four miles below Philadelphia. It supplies the city with water, pumped by steam[2] from a reservoir, with which {13} the river communicates by a canal near the bridge, into a cistern, from whence it is conveyed by pipes through the streets and to the houses, plugs being fixed at convenient distances for supplying the fire engines, for which there are too frequent use, from the quantity of timber still used in building, and from the fuel, which is chiefly wood.

The banks of the Schuylkill being hilly, afford charming situations for country houses, in which the wealthy citizens of Philadelphia find a secure retreat from the unhealthy air of the town during the heats of summer. A good house, a spacious green house, fine gardens and a demesne formerly owned by the late Robert Morris, esq.[3] are a fine termination to the view up the river from the bridge.

There is a turnpike road of sixty-six miles from Philadelphia to Lancaster, which my wagonner left at Downingstown about half way, keeping to the right along a new road, which is also intended for a turnpike road to Harrisburgh, and which passes through New Holland, where he had some goods to deliver. Downingstown is a village of about fifty middling houses.[4] The east branch of Brandywine creek crosses the road here, as the west branch does about eight miles further.—These two branches unite twelve or fourteen miles below, and fall into the Delaware near Wilmington, about twenty miles below their junction. The Brandywine is noted for a battle fought on its banks near its confluence with the Delaware, between the British army under Sir William Howe and the American under General Washington, who endeavoured to oppose the progress of the enemy to Philadelphia, from the head of Chesapeak bay where they had landed. The conflict was obstinate, but the British being in great force, the Americans {14} were obliged to retreat, after heavy loss on both sides.

The Brandywine runs through a rich and well settled country, and abounds with mills, where a vast quantity of flour is manufactured for exportation.—Pequea creek which falls into the Susquehannah, crosses the road about four miles from the west branch of Brandywine. Five miles further accompanying my wagonner, I turned to the left from the Harrisburgh turnpike road, and in six miles more came to New Holland, which is a long straggling town of one hundred and fifty houses in one street, from whence it is seven miles to Conestoga creek. From the hill just above, I was struck with the romantick situation of a fine bridge over the creek below, more particularly as I came upon it unexpectedly. The creek is about eighty yards wide, tumbling its rapid current, over an irregular rocky bottom and disappearing round the foot of a wooded hill, almost as soon as seen. The man who built the bridge lives on the opposite side. The toll not answering his expectations, he would have been a great sufferer, had not the state taken it off his hands and reimbursed his expences; since when, the toll has been taken off.—It is five miles from this bridge to Lancaster.

The face of the country between Philadelphia and Lancaster is hilly, and variegated with woods and cultivated farms. It is extremely well inhabited and consists of almost every variety of soil, from sandy and light, to a rich black mould, which last quality is observable generally between New Holland and Lancaster, except on the heights on each bank of the Conestoga. The first settlers of all this tract were English, Irish, and German, but the latter have gradually purchased from the others, and have got the best lands generally into their possession. They {15} are frugal and industrious, are good farmers, and consequently a wealthy people.

Lancaster is supposed to be the largest inland town in the United States. It is in a healthy and pleasant situation, on the western slope of a hill, and consists of two principal streets, compactly built with brick and stone, and well paved and lighted, crossing each other at right angles. There is a handsome and commodious court-house of brick in the centre, which, in my opinion is injurious to the beauty of the town, by obstructing the vista of the principal streets. There are several other streets parallel to the principal ones the whole containing about eight hundred houses. The houses for publick worship are a German Lutheran, a German Calvinist, a Presbyterian, an Episcopalian, a Moravian, a Quaker, and a Roman Catholick church, amongst which the German Lutheran is the most conspicuous from its size and handsome spire: it has also an organ.—There is a strong jail built with stone, and a brick market house. What in my opinion does most honour to the town is its poor house, which is delightfully situated near Conestoga creek about a mile from the town on the right of the turnpike road towards Philadelphia. It is a large and commodious building, and is supported partly by the labour of those paupers who are able to work, and partly by a fine farm, which is annexed to it. There are several private manufacturies in Lancaster, amongst which are three breweries and three tanyards, but it is principally noted for its rifles, muskets, and pistols, the first of which are esteemed the best made in the United States. The inhabitants are chiefly the descendants of the first German settlers, and are a quiet, orderly people—They are estimated at about four thousand five hundred.

This has been the seat of government of Pennsylvania since 1799, but it is not rendered permanently {16} so by an act of the legislature, which occasions attempts being made annually at every session of that body to remove it.[5] The eastern members advocating Philadelphia on account of its trade and population, and the western members endeavouring to have it placed as near to the centre of the state as possible, which they contend will also shortly be the centre of population, from the rapid manner in which the country to the westward of the Allegheny mountains is settling. I was present at a very animated debate, on the subject in the house of representatives, during which much good argument, mixed with several sprightly and keen flashes of genuine wit, was used, but it all terminated, as it has hitherto invariably done, in favour of Lancaster—Of many situations proposed, Harrisburgh seemed to have the greatest number of advocates.

Notwithstanding Lancaster is so populous and the seat of government besides, it is but a dull town with respect to society. The manners and taste of the inhabitants are not yet sufficiently refined by education, or intercourse with strangers, to make it a desirable situation for the residence of a person who wishes to enjoy the otium cum dignitate. An alteration in that respect will doubtless take place with the rising generation, whose education, the easy circumstances of the present inhabitants, enable to pay a proper attention to, particularly as they seem desirous to balance their own deficiencies in literature and the polite accomplishments, by their attention to their children in those particulars. There is no theatre, no assemblies, no literary societies, nor any other publick entertainment, except occasionally an itinerant exhibition of wax-work, or a puppet-show: {17} but there are taverns without number, at some of which I have been informed, private gambling is very customary.

There are horse races here annually, which last a week on a course on the common to the westward of the town, which like most other races in this country, are for the mere purposes of jockeying horses, and betting, and are not followed by balls and other social meetings of both sexes, as at amusements of the same kind in Europe. Shooting with the rifle, is a favourite amusement, at which they are very dexterous, meeting at taverns at short distances from town, to shoot, sometimes at a mark for wagers, and sometimes at turkeys provided by the tavern keeper, at so much a shot, the turkey being the prize of the killer of it—the distance is generally, one hundred yards, and always with a single ball.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] For a statistical account of the Schuylkill permanent bridge, the reader is referred to a new and valuable work, the “Memoirs of the Philadelphia Agricultural Society,” vol. i, and to Biddle’s “Young Carpenter’s Assistant.”

As a specimen of the difficulties, and uncommon perseverance of the company in building the Schuylkill bridge, we give the following instance: The British troops when at Philadelphia had formed a bridge of boats over the Schuylkill, one of which had been accidentally sunk in 1777, twenty-eight feet below common low water. It occupied a part of the area of the western coffer dam, with one end projecting under two of the piles of the inner row, and had nearly rendered the erection abortive. It was first discovered on pumping out the dam, in 1802; and was perfectly sound, after the lapse of 25 years. The iron work had not the least appearance of rust, or the wood (which was common oak) of decay. The taking this boat to pieces, the straining the dam, and the leaks in consequence, were the chief causes of an extra expenditure, by the company, of more than 4000 dollars, hardly and perilously disbursed in pumping (which alone cost from 500 to 700 dollars weekly) and other labour, during forty-one days and nights in the midst of a most inclement winter. Mem. Phila. Ag. Soc.—Cramer.

[2] This water steam engine, otherwise called the waterworks, is a work of great magnitude. It cost 150 thousand dollars, and is capable of raising about 4,500,000 gallons of water in 24 hours, with which the city is daily supplied through wooden pipes. The reservoir, into which the water is thrown, is capable of holding 20,000 gallons, and is of a sufficient height to supply the citizens with water in the upper stories of their highest houses. The first stone of this building was laid on the 2d May, 1799, and it was completed in 1801-2. The works belong to the city, and the citizens pay a water tax equal to the expence of keeping the engine in motion, which amounts to about 8,000 dollars annually. The building stands in the centre square, and consequently spoils the view down Market street. The trees and houses adjacent, look as black and gloomy as those in Pittsburgh, arising from the smoke of the mineral coal burnt in the works.—Cramer.

[3] This estate of Robert Morris, who died the year before Cuming’s tour, was purchased in 1770, and had formed part of the manor of Springetsbury. It is now within Fairmount Park. Morris, known as the “financier of the American Revolution,” was an Englishman who, emigrating to Pennsylvania in 1747, became a prominent merchant of Philadelphia. After serving as a delegate to the Continental Congress, and signing the Declaration of Independence, he was assigned the difficult task of procuring funds for the war. To his support was due the maintenance of an army in the field during the disastrous years of 1776 and 1777; while his chief accomplishment was financing the campaign that led to the battle of Yorktown. After retiring from the superintendency of finance in 1784, Morris served in the Pennsylvania legislature (1786), the Constitutional Convention (1787), and the United States Senate (1789-95), declining the position of Secretary of the Treasury in Washington’s cabinet. In later life his affairs became involved, and he spent four years (1798-1802) in a debtor’s prison. See Sumner, Robert Morris (New York, 1892).—Ed.

[4] Downingtown, Chester County, took its name from Thomas Downing, who bought the location in 1739 and bequeathed it to his son. A mill had been established on the Brandywine at this place as early as 1716, and the town was indifferently called Milltown or Downingtown until finally incorporated under the latter title in 1859.—Ed.

[5] During the session of 1809-10 the legislature passed a law for the removal of the seat of the state government to Harrisburgh in the year 1812, and appropriated the sum of $30,000 for the erection of publick buildings in that place.—Cramer.

CHAPTER II

Indian bridges over Chickey creeks—Elizabethtown—Cheapness of living—Swatara creek and ferry—Middleton—Susquehannah river—Chambers’s ferry—Harrisburgh.

On Thursday 29th January I left Lancaster on foot, proceeding along the Harrisburgh road, at a steady pace of about three miles and a half an hour. The weather was remarkable fine, and the road in excellent order, and what was remarkable for the season, a little dusty. About a mile and a half from Lancaster, I past a turnpike toll gate, from a little beyond which I got the last view of the steeples of that town, and soon after I crossed a stone bridge over a branch of Conestoga creek. The road continued {18} fine, and the country rich, laid out in large farms, with good dwelling houses of brick and stone, and immense barns. Though hill and dale, woods and cultivated farms, presented themselves alternately yet there was nothing very striking in the scenery.

The road continued fine, nine miles, to a rivulet called Big Chickey, which I crossed over on an Indian bridge, which is a high tree cut down so as to fall across the stream from bank to bank, and then its branches lopped off. The banks being high, and the bridge long and narrow, my nerves were so discomposed when I reached the middle, that I had like to have fallen off, but balancing and tottering, I at length reached the end.

Two miles further I had to cross another Indian bridge over Little Chickey creek, which I did boldly, without any difficulty; which is one proof of the use of practice and experience.

The road now became very bad, the turnpike intended from Lancaster to Harrisburgh not being as yet finished any further.[6] The country also is not so highly improved as in the neighbourhood of Lancaster, the inhabitants still residing in their original small log houses, though they have generally good and spacious stone barns.

After four hours walking, I arrived at Elizabethtown eighteen miles from Lancaster,[7] and stopped at the sign of General Wayne, where for a five penny bit (six cents and a quarter) I got a bowl of excellent egg punch, and a crust of bread.

It is surprising that at so short a distance from Lancaster, the necessaries of life should be at least a third cheaper, which on enquiry I found them here.

This village contains about thirty tolerable houses—has a meeting-house, and a school, when a master {19} can be got, which is not always the case, the place having now been some months vacant, to whom the trustees ensure twenty-five scholars, at two dollars each per quarter, which being only two hundred dollars per annum, I would have supposed insufficient for his support, if at the same time I had not been informed that his board and lodging in the most respectable manner, will not cost him above eighty dollars a year, in this cheap and plentiful country.[8]

After resting about an hour, and not feeling at all fatigued, at half past four, I proceeded for Middleton, eight miles further, first loading one of the barrels of my gun with a running ball, as I had to pass near where one Eshelman was robbed and murdered last fall.

The road over Connewago hills was bad, and by the time I arrived at the bridge over Connewago creek, three miles from Elizabethtown, my left foot began to pain me, so that I was forced to slacken my pace, which made it dark before I arrived at Swatara creek, when the pain had much increased, which was occasioned by my stepping through the ice up to my knees in a run which crossed the road, which the darkness prevented my seeing.

The boat was at the other side of the creek, and the German family at the ferry-house let me kick my heels at the door until I was quite chilled, before they invited me in, which old Mrs. Smith did at last with a very bad grace, and she almost scolded me for risking the dropping on her very dirty floor, the spirits of turpentine, with which I was wetting the feet of my stockings to prevent my catching cold, a phial of which I carried in my pocket for that purpose. In about half an hour, which appeared to me an age, the boat returned, and I gladly left the dirty, boorish, inhospitable mansion, crossed the creek in a canoe, hauled over by a rope extended from bank to bank, about 70 yards, and in a few minutes after {20} I found myself in Mrs. Wentz’s excellent inn, the sign of general Washington in Middleton. My foot being much blistered, I bathed it in cold water, and then injudiciously opened the blisters with a lancet, and spunged them with spirits of turpentine: I then got a good supper and an excellent bed, but my foot pained me so much as to prevent my sleeping, so I arose early, unrefreshed, and breakfasted with my landlady, an agreeable, well bred woman.

The view down the Susquehannah from Mrs. Wentz’s back piazza is very fine. The town contains about a hundred houses and is well and handsomely situated about half a mile above the conflux of Swatara creek with Susquehannah river, the former of which forms a good harbour for boats, which it is in contemplation to join to the Schuylkill by a canal, in order to give Philadelphia the benefit of the navigation of the Susquehannah through its long course above Middleton. If this is carried into effect, it will draw to Philadelphia a vast quantity of produce, which now goes to Baltimore.[9]

The Susquehannah is a noble river, here about a mile wide, with fine sloping wooded banks, and abounds with rock-fish, perch, mullet, eels, suckers, cat-fish and white salmon, which last is described as a fine fish from seven to fifteen pounds weight, but a distinct species from the red salmon of the northern rivers. Notwithstanding their plenty, Mrs. Wentz assured me that she was seldom gratified with a dish of fish; for though there are many poor people in the town and neighbourhood, who might make a good living by fishing, she says they are too lazy to do any thing more than will procure them some whiskey, in addition to a miserable subsistence, which a very little labour will suffice for in a country where work is so well paid for, and where the necessaries of life are so abundant and cheap.

Was it not that the Susquehannah abounds with {21} falls, shallows and rapids which impede the navigation, it would be one of the most useful rivers in the world, as its different branches from its different sources, embrace a wonderful extent of country, settled, or rapidly settling, and abounding in wheat and maize (Indian corn,) which most probably will always be staples of the large and flourishing state of Pennsylvania.

The road to Harrisburgh leads parallel to the Susquehannah, in some places close to the river, and never more distant from it than a quarter of a mile, along a very pleasant level, bounded on the right by a ridge of low, but steep wooded hills, approaching and receding at intervals, and affording a fine shelter from the northerly winds, to the farms between them and the river; which perhaps is one reason that the orchards are so numerous and so fine in this tract.

I have rarely seen in any country, a road more pleasant than this, either from its own goodness, or the richness and variety of prospect. The Susquehannah on the left about three quarters of a mile wide; sometimes appearing, and sometimes concealed by orchards, groves or clumps of wood. The fine wooded islands in the river. The mountains which terminate the ridge called the South mountain (which crosses part of Virginia, and the southern part of this state) rising abruptly from the margin of the river, in which they are charmingly reflected, altogether form a scenery truly delightful.

About three miles below Harrisburgh the mountains terminate, and the south bank of the river becomes more varied, though still hilly; and here on an elevated promontory, with a commanding view of the river, from above Harrisburgh to below Middleton, is a large, and apparently fine stone house, owned by general Simpson who resides in it on his farm, and is proprietor of a ferry much frequented by the western wagonners, as the road that way is {22} shorter by two miles, than that by Harrisburgh.—He farms out the ferry on his side for about three hundred dollars per annum, while on this side the proprietor rents it at four hundred and seventy. The value of this ferry called Chambers’s, may serve to convey some idea of the state of travelling in this country, particularly if one reflects that there are many other well frequented ferries where publick roads cross the river, within thirty miles both above and below this one, and which are all great avenues to the western country.

When two miles from the ferry I observed a long line of sleds, horses, men, &c. crossing on the ice; which scene, at that distance had a curious and picturesque appearance, as the ice was glassy, and in consequence they appeared to be moving on the surface of the water, in which their shadows inverted and reflected as in a mirror, struck the eye with very grotesque imagery.

Some labourers who were at work in a barn at the ferry-house, and of whom I was asking some questions relative to the country, were much astonished at my double barrelled gun, admiring its work and lightness, and calling it a curious creature.

When within a mile and a half of Harrisburgh,[10] the white cupola of its court-house, and the roofs of the houses of the town are seen peeping over the trees, and have a good effect.

At one o’clock I entered that town, turning to the left over Paxton creek bridge. I stopt at the ferry-house, which is also a tavern, but appearance of accommodation not being very promising, I continued my walk along the bank of the river, and stopt at another tavern, where I asked if I could have a bed that night. A dirty looking girl at the stove drawled but that she believed I might. I then asked for some mulled wine. She said eggs were scarce, and she could not get any. From these symptoms of {23} carelessness, I thought it best to try my fortune a little further; so putting on my shot belt and taking my gun, I quietly walked out in search of a place of more civil reception, and fortunately I entered Bennet’s, the sign of the white horse, fronting the river, at the corner of the principal cross street, which leads to the market place. I say fortunately, for I found it an excellent, plentiful and well frequented house, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, two fine girls, his daughters by a former wife, and a Mr. Fisher an assistant, and apparently some relation, all attentive and studious to please.

After getting some refreshment I wrote some letters, and carried them to the post-office. The office being shut, the postmaster very civilly invited me into his parlour, to settle for the postage, where seeing a large map of Pennsylvania, I took the opportunity of tracing my journey, which the postmaster observing, he very politely assisted me in it, pointing out the most proper route. There were some ladies in the room, apparently on a visit, and there was an air of socialty and refinement throughout, which was very pleasing.

Leaving the post-office I walked through the town. It contains about two hundred and fifty houses, most of them very good, some of brick, some of stone, and some of wood. The principal street runs nearly east and west, and has two small market-houses in the centre, where the street is widened purposely into a small square. Parallel to this main street is a street charmingly situated on the bank of the Susquehannah, open to the river on the side next it, and tolerably well built on the other, having a wide foot way, in some parts paved, and marked in its whole length by a row of Lombardy poplars regularly planted, which serves also to shade the houses from the scorching rays of the summers sun. This street, though at present wide enough, has not been laid {24} out sufficiently so to provide against the gradual encroachment of the river, on its steep gravelly bank of about twenty feet high above the common level of the water. The view from every part of this street is very beautiful, both up and down the river, about five miles each way—terminated upwards by the long ridge of the Blue mountains, through a gap in which of about three miles long, which is also open to the view, the river rolls its rapid current, contracted there to less than half a mile wide. While downwards the eye rests on the South mountain, impending over general Simpson’s house, which in its turn seems to overhang the river, from the high promontory on which it is situated. Several islands add to the beauty of the view, particularly one, on which is a fine farm of nearly one hundred acres just opposite the town.

The court-house is near the market square on the principal cross street, and is a handsome plain brick building of two lofty stories, with a cupola rising from the centre of the roof, remarkable for its vane of copper gilt, representing an Indian chief, as large as the life, with a bow in his left hand, and a tomahawk in the act of cutting, in the right. The house is about seventy feet by fifty, with two small receding wings. The hall for the court is very neat, spacious and convenient; doors opening from it into the record and prothonotary’s offices in the wings. A fine easy double staircase leads to the great room over the hall for the courts. This room is now used as a temporary place of worship by the English Presbyterians, until their own meeting-house is finished, which is of brick and in great forwardness. From each corner of this room a door opens into the register office, the library and two jury rooms.

There is as yet no other place of publick worship in Harrisburgh, except an old wooden house used as such, by a congregation of German Lutherans.

{28, i.e., 25} This town which is now the capital of Dauphin county was laid out twenty-three years ago by the late proprietor, Mr. Harris, whose father is buried near the bank of the river, opposite the stone house he lived in, under a large old tree, which, once during his life, concealed and saved him from some Indians, by whom he was pursued.

I observed in the office of a Mr. Downie, a magistrate, a newly invented patent stove, made of sheet iron, consisting of two horizontal parallel cylinders, about a foot apart, one over the other and communicating by a pipe; the upper one is heated by the smoke from the lower, which contains the fuel. Mr. Downie informed me that it saved much fuel. The patentee lives here.

On returning to my inn, I found there a Mr. W. P——, of Pittsburgh, just arrived. In the course of the evening he gave me much good information of the western country, accompanied by a friendly invitation to call on him in Pittsburgh, should I be detained there until his return from Philadelphia, where he was now going. He had formerly lived in Harrisburgh for some years after his arrival from Ireland, his native country. The joyful eagerness with which numbers of his old acquaintance flocked to Bennet’s to visit him, evinced his having been much esteemed and respected.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] This turnpike is now completed, I am informed, as far as Middleton, and another extends from Lancaster to York, and is progressing on that route to Chambersburgh.—Cramer.

[7] The site of Elizabethtown was secured by an Indian trader in 1746, who sold it seven years later to Barnabas Hughes. The latter, a noted tavern-keeper, laid out the town and named it in honor of his wife. On the highway between Lancaster and Harrisburg, Elizabethtown soon became an important stopping place, the original log-cabin tavern having been extant until 1835.—Ed.

[8] Cuming here describes one of the neighborhood or voluntary schools, organized chiefly in the frontier districts, which afterwards (1834) became the basis of the common-school system of Pennsylvania. See Wickersham, History of Education in Pennsylvania (Lancaster, 1886), pp. 178-182.—Ed.

[9] Middletown was so named from being half way between Lancaster and Carlisle. It is older than Harrisburg, and was first known as “South End of Paxtang township.” It flourished until 1796, when an enterprising merchant discovering that the Susquehanna could be navigated, trade was diverted hence to Baltimore.—Ed.

[10] For the early history of Harrisburg, see Post’s Journals, vol. i of this series, p. 237, note 73.—Ed.

{26} CHAPTER III

Harrisburgh ferry—Old Jameson—The Conestoga massacre—Militia riflemen—Carlisle and Dickenson college.

On Saturday 24th, I arose early, but the ferry-boat not being ready, I partook of an excellent breakfast with my friendly host and his family, and at ten o’clock I embarked in a large flat, with the western mail and several passengers and horses. The flat was worked by nine stout men, with short setting poles shod and pointed with iron, to break the ice and stick in the bottom. Only one set or pushed on the upper side, while eight set on the lower side, to keep the boat from being forced by the current against the ice, while a tenth steered with a large oar behind. A channel for this purpose had been cut through the ice, and was kept open as loaded wagons could cross the river in a flat with more safety than on the ice.

In twenty-two minutes we were landed on the western shore of the Susquehannah in Cumberland county; and I trudged on, my foot paining me very much, until half past twelve o’clock, when I stopped at a tavern seven miles from the ferry and got some refreshment. Here I found a tall active old man of the name of Jameson, seventy-six years of age, who had crossed the ferry with me, and had afterwards passed me on the road, on horseback. He had accompanied his parents from the county Antrim in Ireland when only six years old, had resided thirty-six years at Paxton, near where Harrisburgh has since been built, (where he had been on business) and had afterwards removed to a part of Virginia about two hundred miles distant, where he has a large farm and distillery. He insisted on treating me, as he said, he liked to encourage the consumption of whiskey; of which, and the telling of old stories he was so fond, that he appeared to forget he had so {27} long a journey before him, until reminded by seeing some travellers pass on horseback, whom he hastened to overtake for the sake of their company. He did not however neglect finishing his whiskey, which he swallowed with great gout, and on mounting his horse, cracked jokes about a buxom widow, at whose tavern beyond Carlisle, he proposed sleeping that night. Among other stories with which he had entertained me, he told me the particulars of the massacre of the Indians at Lancaster, and he took a good deal of pride to himself, for having been one of the heroes who had assisted on that memorably disgraceful expedition. In justice however to the old man, I must observe that he related with pleasure that the party he accompanied, arrived too late in Lancaster to assist in the carnage.[11]

{28} As this is a circumstance not generally known, it may not be amiss to introduce here a short account of it.—The Conestoga Indians, as they were called, from their residence near the banks of Conestoga creek, were the remains of a tribe of the Six nations, who entered into a treaty with William Penn the first proprietor of the then province of Pennsylvania, towards the close of the seventeenth century, by which they had a thousand acres of land assigned them in the manor of Conestoga for their residence. This treaty had been frequently renewed afterwards, and was never violated on either part until their extermination by the surrounding settlers. It is remarked that the Indians diminish rapidly, in proportion to the increase of European settlers in the neighbourhood of any of their towns. This was very observable here, where from a tribe, they had decreased in about seventy years, to seven men, five women, and eight children.

An Indian war had commenced through the intrigues of the French, in the year 1754, at the commencement of which, many of the frontier inhabitants being murdered or driven in by the aborigines, aided by the French, a general panick followed. The Conestoga Indians, notwithstanding their weakness, their local situation, and their peaceable and innocent habits of supporting themselves by making of wicker {29} baskets, brooms and other wooden ware, which they sold to their white neighbours, as well as the skins of the wild animals which they killed in hunting, became objects of terror to the panick struck whites. To be an Indian, was enough to excite both the passions of fear and revenge. This poor defenceless remnant of a once powerful tribe, had but just sent an address, according to their custom on the occasion of every new governor, to John Penn, esq. who then held that office; welcoming him on his arrival from Britain, and praying a continuance of that favour and protection they had hitherto experienced; when at the dawn of day of the 14th December 1763, the Indian village was attacked by about sixty men well mounted and armed. Only three men, two women and a boy were found at home, the rest being out among the whites vending their little wares. Those poor wretches were butchered and scalped in the manner of the savages, by those more savage descendants of the civilized Europeans: Even the hoary locks of the venerable and good old chief Shebaes, who had assisted at the second treaty between the whites and Indians in 1701, and who had always since been the avowed friend of the former, could not excite the mercy, much less the respect of his barbarous assassins:—he was cut to pieces in his bed, and scalped with the rest, and the huts were then committed to the flames. The magistrates of Lancaster collected the remaining Indians, and brought them into that town, condoling with them on the late misfortune, and promising them protection; with which intent they were put into the jail, as the strongest building in the town.

Their merciless blood hounds not satiated with the blood already spilt, and increased to the number of five hundred well armed men, marched into Lancaster. No opposition was made to them, though the first party which arrived did not consist of {30} more than fifty, who without awaiting any of the rest, forced the jail, dragged their victims into the yard, and there immolated them, while clinging to their knees, and supplicating mercy. In this manner they all, men, women, and children, received the hatchet, amid the exultations of their murderers, who after the tragedy, paraded the streets, huzzaing, and using every other mark of self-approbation for the glorious deed they had achieved. How weak must have been the government, which dared not attempt any publick investigation of an act so disgraceful to humanity, and in such direct violation of the laws; but it is a fact that not even the name of one of the perpetrators was ever published; they were however generally known by the appellation of Paxton boys, though the township of Paxton was only one of many concerned.

At the tavern where I overtook Jameson, I saw some young men in blue jackets with scarlet binding, the uniform of a volunteer corps of militia riflemen. They had been with their rifles in search of squirrels, but unsuccessfully, the weather being too cold for those animals to come out of their hollow trees.

Apropos of the rifle.—The inhabitants of this country in common with the Virginians, and all the back woods people, Indians as well as whites, are wonderfully expert in the use of it: thinking it a bad shot if they miss the very head of a squirrel, or a wild turkey, on the top of the highest forest tree with a single ball; though they generally load with a few grains of swan shot, with which they are equally sure of hitting the head of the bird or animal they fire at.

Ten miles further brought me to Carlisle,[12] at six o’clock in the evening; the whole road from Harrisburgh {31} being very fine and level, the houses and farms good, and the face of the country pleasant. The view on the right is all the way terminated by the Blue mountains—the longest north eastern branch of the Allegheny ridge, from six to ten miles distant.

I observed about a mile from Carlisle on the left, and about a half a mile from the road, a large handsome stone house belonging to a Mr. Jackson of Baltimore, which was formerly owned by General Arden; and about half way between it and the town, and also to the left of the road, the large barrack, magazine, and depot of arms, built during the revolutionary war. Dickenson college, a spacious stone building with a cupola was directly before me, with the town of Carlisle on the left of it extending to the southward on an elevated plain: the whole having a very good effect on the approach. The twilight shutting out further view, I hastened through a tolerable compact street to Foster’s, to which I had been recommended as the best inn. I asked if I could have a bed that night, and was answered rudely, by an elderly man, in the bar who I took for the landlord, after he had eyed me with a contemptuous scrutiny—that I could not. The house appeared a little would be stylish—and I was afoot—so not of consequence enough for Mr. Foster. I turned on my heel, and entered the next tavern kept by Michael Herr, an honest and obliging German, where I found nothing to make me regret my being rejected as a guest at Foster’s, except want of bed linen, sheets not being generally used in this country in the inns, excepting at English ones, or those of fashionable resort. A very good bed otherwise, and an excellent supper, with attentive treatment, well compensated for that little deficiency.

After supper, I received both pleasure and information from the conversation of a philosophick German gentleman, an inhabitant of Carlisle, who favoured {32} me with his company, and who discoursed fluently on opticks, pneumaticks, the French modern philosophy, and a variety of literary topicks, evincing great reading, and a good memory.

Before I retired to rest, I walked to the tavern, where the wagons generally stop, and had the pleasure of finding, that arrived, which carried my baggage, which I had not seen since I left Lancaster.

Carlisle is a post town, and the capital of Cumberland county. It contains about three hundred houses of brick, stone, and wood. The two principal streets cross each other at right angles, where there is a market-house, a neat brick court-house and a large stone meeting-house. There are besides in the town, a German, an Episcopalian, and a Roman Catholick church. The streets are wide, and the footways are flagged or coarsely paved. Dickenson college on the north, was founded in 1783, and was so named in compliment to Mr. John Dickenson, formerly president of the supreme executive council of Pennsylvania, and author of the Pennsylvania Farmer’s Letters, and other writings of much merit. It has a principal,[13] three professors, and generally about eighty students. It has a philosophical apparatus and a library, containing about three thousand volumes. It has £4000 in funded certificates, and the state has granted it ten thousand acres of land: {33} On the whole it is esteemed a respectable seminary of learning, and is extremely well situated for that purpose, in a healthy and plentiful country, and about equidistant from the capital of the state, and the capital of the United States, one hundred and twenty miles from each.[14]

FOOTNOTES:

[11] The character here given of old Mr. Jameson, puts us in mind of an old man of a similar character in Washington county, Pennsylvania, of the name of Foreman, who at this time is ninety-eight years of age. I had a curiosity in seeing this old gentleman, and about two years ago called on him for the purpose of conversing a few minutes with him. I was fully paid the trouble, for I found him talkative and considerably worldly minded. Among other things he observed that ‘The fashions of the day had injured society, and had lead astray the minds of young men and young women from the paths of simple and rustick honesty they used to walk in fifty or sixty years ago. That there was much hypocrisy in the shew of so much religion as appeared at present. That people were too fond of lying in their beds late in the morning, and drinking too much whiskey. That he himself used to take a frolick now and then to treat his friends of a Saturday night, after working hard all the week, but that he had not drank any spirituous liquors for twenty-five years. That he had been always an early riser, having been in the habit when he first settled where he now lives (having come from Virginia about thirty years ago) of going around to all his neighbours before or about day-light, to waken them up, and bid them good morning, and return home again before his own family would be out of bed. I asked him why he never came to Pittsburgh; he replied that he could ride there he supposed, but that he had no business in that place, but that he should like to move to Kentucky or to the state of Ohio, if he went any where. On speaking of his great age and the probable number of years he might yet live, he seemed inclined to believe he would live at least four years longer, (being then ninety-six) wishing as appeared to me, to make out the round number of one hundred years. He is quite a small man, somewhat emaciated, but erect in his carriage, can see tolerably well, and walks about the house without a cane, milk and vegetables have been, through life, his principal diet, and water his beverage. His present wife, being his second, is quite a smart woman, and is about eighty-six years old. The old gentleman observed that he had never to his recollection been sick, so as to have required the aid of a physician.’ Happy old man thought I, thou hast been happy, and art still so!—Peace to the remainder of thy lengthened days!—Cramer.

[12] For an account of Carlisle, see Post’s Journals, vol. i of this series, p. 237, note 75.—Ed.

[13] By a letter from Mr. Robert Lamberton, postmaster at Carlisle, it appears Dickenson college was burnt down by accidental fire, February 3d, 1803, and rebuilt in 1804. Doctor Nesbit, a Scotch gentleman of great learning, and much celebrated for his application to his studies, and particularly for the uncommon retentiveness of his memory, had been several years president of this college; he died 18th January, 1804. The Rev. Mr. Atwater, from Middlebury, Vermont, took his place as principal at the last commencement, on Wednesday the 27th September, 1809, and from his known abilities and piety, we may safely calculate that the college is again in a flourishing condition.—Cramer.

[14] Dickenson has had many well-known alumni; but after the death of its first president, Dr. Nesbit, a period of decline set in, lasting until 1833, when its founders, the Presbyterians, sold it to the Methodists, who have since maintained the college.—Ed.

CHAPTER IV

Different roads to Shippensburgh—Foxes—South mountain and pine woods—Shippensburgh—Strasburgh—North or Blue mountain—Horse valley and Skinner’s tavern.

On the 25th January at 8 A.M. I left Carlisle, having previously taken an egg beat up in a glass of wine. There are two roads, one called the Mountrock road which goes from the north end of the town, and the other called the Walnut-bottom road, which leads from the south end. They run parallel to each other about three miles apart. I took the latter, which is the stage road, as the wagon with my baggage was to go that way, though I was informed that the first led through a better country. I found mile-stones on the right hand all the way to Shippensburgh, placed at the expence of the proprietors of the lands on this road, to prove it shorter than the other, they having before been computed at the equal length of twenty-one miles each; but now this one is marked only nineteen. The first five miles are through a very poor and stony country, thinly inhabited, and covered, except on the cultivated parts of the few miserable looking farms, with short, stunted, scrubby wood. The next seven miles are through a better improved country, and a better soil, with large farms {34} and good houses; then there are three miles over the northern skirt of the South mountain, through gloomy forests of tall pines, with here and there a log cabin surrounded by a few acres of cleared land, and abounding in children, pigs, and poultry. The last four miles improve gradually to Shippensburgh.

At eleven o’clock I stopt and breakfasted at a large tavern on the right, seven miles from Carlisle, I got coffee, bread and butter, eggs and excellent honey in the comb, for which I was charged only nineteen cents. My landlord presented me one of the largest and finest apples I had ever seen: it was the produce of his own orchard, where he had several trees of the same species, raised by himself from the pippin, and neither grafted nor budded. He had the manners of a New Englandman, being desirous both of receiving and of communicating information, but I soon gathered from him that he was a native of that part of Pennsylvania, and of English extraction. On my entrance he had laid down a book, which taking up afterwards, I found to be a volume of Robertson’s Charles V.

As I proceeded from hence, two very beautiful red foxes playfully crossed the road about a hundred yards before me; they then recrossed it, and seeing me, made up a hill to the right with incredible swiftness, leaping with ease a Virginia worm fence above six feet high.

At half past four I arrived at Shippensburgh, which was laid out for a town, about fifty years ago, and named after the first proprietor and settler, the father of judge Shippen of Philadelphia.[15] It contains between 150 and 200 straggling houses, in one street, nearly a mile in length: with nothing else interesting to recommend it to notice. I stopt at Raume’s, a German house about the middle of the town, and apparently the best tavern in it. I bathed my feet in cold water, and dressed the left one which was {35} much blistered and very painful: Soon after which, my wagonner Jordan, with three others in his company arriving, we all sat down together, according to the custom of the country, to a plentiful and good supper; after which, the wagonners spread their mattresses and blankets round the stove in the bar room, and I retired to a good bed, but without an upper sheet.

Monday, 26th January, at half past ten; I proceeded towards Strasburgh, in preference to keeping the stage road to the left through Chambersburgh,[16] as I shortened the road eight miles in a distance of thirty-eight, to where the two roads again met.

The country to Strasburgh, eleven miles, is well inhabited, and the soil is tolerably good; and the Blue mountains are full in front, extending to the right and left as far as the eye can reach. Those mountains are not higher than the highlands on Hudson river above New York, about 2500 feet perpendicular from the plain below, from which they rise abruptly, and the road is seen winding up their side to a small gap near the top, which separates from the main ridge a pyramidal knob, which, apparently higher {36} than the ridge, seems to hang directly over Strasburgh. I met on the road, two wagons with six horses each, from Zanesville in the state of Ohio, going to Philadelphia for goods:—They had been a month on the road. At two miles from Strasburgh, I past a direction post on the left pointing to Cummins’s mills, and at 1 o’clock I entered that town and stopt at Bell’s, the last tavern on the left. As there was no beer in the house, they had to send for it to Merkel’s, a German house. And here it may not be amiss to observe that the German taverns on these roads, are generally better provided with both liquors and provisions, than the English or Irish, but their manners are not the most agreeable, they being very inattentive to any of the wants of a traveller, except the providing his meals, and the bringing him what liquor he calls for.

It is twelve years since Strasburgh was laid out. It contains about fifty indifferent houses, and does not seem to be thriving.

At two o’clock, I began to ascend the North or Blue mountains, immediately from Strasburgh.—After ascending about a mile, I stopped and rested at a hut, the only dwelling on the passage over the mountain. Proceeding from hence, I was overtaken a little higher up by a man driving before him his horse loaded with a bag of wheat. We entered into conversation, and he entertained me with his exploits, in killing bears,[17] wolves, racoons, and foxes, {37} which abound on these mountains, as well as deer, wild turkeys, pheasants, and squirrels. I stopped occasionally, to observe the view behind me, which though a good deal impeded by the trees, is nevertheless very extensive, over a woody country, terminated by the long range of the South mountain, extending from the banks of the Susquehannah below Harrisburgh to the S.W. as far as the eye can reach. Though extensive, it is however an uninteresting prospect, as though I saw many patches of cleared land, the town of Shippensburgh twelve miles distant, and Strasburgh directly under me;—wood with its (at this season) brown, sombre hue, is the prevailing feature. After ascending a mile and a half from Strasburgh, I came to the top of the mountain, and looked down on the other side into a dark narrow romantick vale called Horse valley, with the two Skinner’s good farms, still house and mill, and Conodogwinnet {38} creek gliding through the middle towards the N.E.; while the middle mountain, rose immediately opposite me, from the other side of the valley, the summit of it apparently not a mile distant from where I stood, though in reality it is three miles, so much is the eye deceived by the depth of the intermediate vale.

At 4 o’clock, I stopped at Skinner’s, where at my particular request, I was gratified with hasty pudding or mush, as it is called in this state, with plenty of good milk and apple pye for supper. My host was born near Woodbridge in Jersey, from whence his father had removed to this country many years ago. There are now about twenty families settled in the valley, which extends from the south end twelve miles above Skinner’s, to a gap in the Blue mountains five miles below, through which the Conodogwinnet flows from its source at the upper end of the valley, which it waters in its whole length of seventeen miles, to join the Susquehannah near Harrisburgh, forty miles distant.

One Wagstaff, formerly an English soldier, who had been wounded and made a prisoner at the battle of Monmouth, and now a farmer near Pittsburgh, and a lad returning home to the same neighbourhood, after assisting to drive a herd of a hundred and fifty hogs to Philadelphia, which had employed him a month, put up here for the night, and I was much amused with the anecdotes of the old soldier and my host, who had also been a soldier on the patriotick side, during the revolutionary war. They had been opposed to each other in several battles, and reminded each other of many incidents which happened at them. My landlord was a politician, but his system of politicks and his general ideas were completely original. Amongst other topicks, Col. Burr’s present situation and intentions were discussed, when our host gave it as his decided opinion, that he had secured {39} the friendship and assistance of a warlike and powerful nation of Indians, inhabiting a country on the banks of the Missouri about 1500 miles in circumference, where is the celebrated mountain of salt. That they fought on horseback and were armed with short Spanish caribines; and that with their aid he meant to conquer Mexico, and erect an empire independent of both Spaniards and Americans.

Mrs. Skinner was confined to her bed in an advanced stage of a consumption: I recommended her inhaling the steam of melted rosin and bees-wax, and wrote directions for her accordingly. When I retired to rest, I had once more the luxury of clean sheets and a good bed.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] See note on Shippensburg in Post’s Journals, vol. i of this series, p. 238, note 76.—Ed.

[16] Chambersburgh is a thriving town, capital of Franklin co., Pennsylvania, 162 miles east of Pittsburgh, the mail route, and 11 beyond the Big Cove mountain. The Philadelphia and Baltimore mail stages meet here, the former three times a week, the latter twice a week, this circumstance, with other advantages, makes it a tolerable lively place. It contains about 250 houses, has two paper mills, a grist mill in the town, and several others within a short distance, all turned by a spring which heads about two miles from the town. An original bank has been lately established here, with a capital of a quarter of a million of dollars, Edward Crawford, president, A. Colhoun, cashier. Two weekly papers are published here, one of which is German. It has a number of mercantile houses, and taverns in plenty, some of which are well kept, and principally by Germans. The stage-master here is a Mr. Davis, formerly of M’Connellstown—He is well spoken of for his attention and politeness to passengers, a very necessary qualification for a stage-master.—Cramer.

[17] In the New York Medical Repository, vol. 5, page 343-4, we find the following curious facts concerning the mode of generation in the American bear.

“The singular departure from the common course of nature in the procreation of the opossum and the shark, are already known; but the manner in which the fœtus is matured by the female bear is not so generally understood. The following information was given to Mr. Franklin, senator of the United States from North Carolina, by the hunters. This animal hybernates, and, during the winter, retires to hollow trees and caverns, but does not become torpid, or sink into the sleeping state. Though found often in great numbers on the frontier settlements, and frequently killed and eaten by the inhabitants, there has never been an instance of a female killed in a pregnant condition, or big with young. The reason is, that almost immediately after conception, the fœtus, while shapeless, and resembling merely a small animated lump, is excluded from the womb. Thus born, and exposed to the open air, it has no connection with the teat like the opossum, nor with an egg like the shark. There is no trace of a placenta nor umbilical vessels. The growth of this rudiment of a future bear is supposed to be promoted by licking; and the saliva of the dam, or some other fluid from her mouth, appears to afford it nourishment. In the course of time, and under such management, the limbs and organs are evolved, the surface covered with hair, and the young cub at length rendered capable of attending its parent. Thus far the inquiries of the hunters have gone. The facts are so curious, that the subject is highly worthy of further investigation. And when the entire history of the process of generation in this animal shall be known, new light will be shed upon one of the most obscure parts of physiology. It is to be hoped that gentlemen whose opportunities are favourable to the prosecution of this inquiry, will furnish the learned world shortly with the whole of these mysterious phenomena.”—Cramer.

CHAPTER V

Another traveller—The middle mountain—Fannetsburgh—Good effect of hunger in destroying fastidiousness—Tuscarora mountain and fine view—Ramsey’s—Change my mode of travelling—Hull’s—Fall from my horse—Sideling hill—Coyle’s good tavern—Curious scene at another tavern—Ray’s hill—River Juniata—Bloody run—Bedford.

On the morning of the 27th January, I took leave of my friendly host Skinner, and passing his brothers about a mile distant, I was joined by another pedestrian traveller, who had left Strasburgh that morning, and had stopped here to rest previous to ascending the middle mountain. He walked on stoutly, and I limped after him, my foot paining me very much. He was a plain countryman from Downpatrick in the north of Ireland, who had formerly {40} resided near Carlisle, from whence he had removed to the western part of the state, where his health having suffered through a general debility, he had returned two hundred miles to his former residence for medical aid, had remained there since the fall under a course of medicine and diet, and his health being now re-established, he was again going to the western country.

When on the top of the middle mountain about two miles from Skinner’s, our eyes were regaled with a charming birds-eye view of some fine cultivated farms in Path valley just below us, with the village of Fannetsburgh of thirty houses in the midst, watered by a fine mill stream called the Conogocheaque in its southerly course towards the Potomack.

The scenery here reminded me of some of the vales of Switzerland, but appetite for breakfast urging me on towards the village below, I did not bestow much time in contemplating it.

I now proved that “hunger is a good sauce,” for I made a hearty meal at M’Callum’s, spite of a dirty room, a sickly woman, and bad tea, which last even when good, I disapprove of, especially for breakfast, but having always had coffee hitherto, without ordering it, I had neglected doing so now, and I was too hungry and too scrupulous of giving trouble to direct or await a change. This was the second sickly landlady I had seen amongst these mountains, which has impressed me with an idea, that the air is too keen and trying for delicate constitutions.

When I returned into the bar room, from the breakfast parlour, if a small dirty room with a bed in it deserves that appellation, I found a traveller in it, who had two horses at the door, the use of one of which he had offered to my fellow pedestrian (who, as he carried provision in a knapsack, had not breakfasted with me,) on condition of his being at the expence of feeding him on the road. He was {41} just declining the offer as I entered, so I embraced it gladly, and the young man agreed to take me up as soon as he should overtake me on the road, as he had to await his brother who was to accompany him, and I expressed a wish to walk before over the Tuscarora mountain, both to enjoy the scenery, and to avoid the danger of riding over it three miles, with the road in many parts like glass, from the freezing of the snow after a partial thaw. I set off with my former companion, who I had regaled with a gill of whiskey, but as I occasionally stopped to admire the beauties of nature in that mountainous and romantick district, he not being equally struck with them, preferred making the best of his way, so walked on before, and separated from me without ceremony, which I was not sorry for, as it left me more at liberty and leisure to proceed as I pleased.

As I ascended, the views of the valley behind were very fine, through and over the large heavy pines which cover the face of the mountain; but when near the top, the prospect to the southward was really sublime, of the valley in its whole length that way, finely cultivated and watered, bounded by distant pyramidal mountains, isolated and unconnected with either of the ridges divided by the valley in a long vista, about two miles wide. From the summit of the Tuscarora ridge, the view to the westward, though extensive, was cheerless and gloomy, over a broken and mountainous or rather hilly country, covered with forests, chiefly of the dark and sombre pine, which would have rendered me quite dispirited, if I had not anticipated a speedy journey through it on horseback.

At the western foot of the mountain I stopped at Ramsey’s, an innkeeper, farmer, saddler and distiller, who has a fine farm, and a good house (I mean literally, but not as a tavern)—It was noon, Mr. Ramsey with a stranger, seated himself to dinner, while {42} his wife in the patriarchal mode, very common in this country, attended table. I contented myself with a tumbler of egg punch, which I had just swallowed, as my horsemen rode past, calling out that they would await me at the distillery, where I accordingly joined them, drank a dram of new whiskey with the hospitable distiller, mounted my mare, threw away my cudgel, and trotted off briskly with my new companions.

The road was good, but the country broken, thinly inhabited and poor; pine woods on each hand—a red gravelly soil, and a wretched looking log hut at every two or three miles with a few acres cleared round it, but the stumps, or girdled trees still standing. We stopped to feed our horses at one, about six miles from Ramsey’s, which was the residence of an old man named Hull, who had removed here from Lancaster a few years ago. The large fire, cleanliness, and air of plenty, which I found within, was the more enjoyed, from the contrast with the wretched appearance without.

On remounting, my mare started, and a bag of rye and corn for provender which was on the saddle under me, falling off, I fell with it. One of my companions checked his horse suddenly and threw himself off to assist me, and I was under both horses’ feet for some seconds; but seizing the forefeet of the horse from which I apprehended the greatest danger, I pulled them towards me, threw him down, and at the same time scrambling from under him, I providentially escaped with only a slight bruise on my left leg, and a rent in my pantaloons. My gun which was loaded, and which I carried slung at my back, was thrown some distance from me without injury.

We soon after overtook my late foot companion, who I believe now regretted that he had not prevented my ride, as he seemed a good deal fatigued. We advised him to bargain for a ride with a packer with {43} two light horses, who we had past a little way behind, and we pushed on to a mountain called Sideling-hill, eight miles from Hull’s; which we ascended a mile, and then put up for the night, at a very good tavern, kept by Daniel Coyle, who also owns a fine farm between the ridges of the mountain.

I got an excellent supper alone, my fellow travellers carrying their provisions with them: I had also a good bed with sheets, but the pain of my blistered foot, which had been augmented by hanging from the saddle in riding, prevented my closing my eyes to sleep until three o’clock, when as exhausted nature was just beginning to induce a temporary oblivion of pain, James Wilson the oldest of my fellow travellers called us to horse, as he said, we must this day make a journey of upwards of forty miles. His brother William, who like myself had never travelled that road before, was obliged to acquiesce, though unwillingly, so rather than lose my horse I complied also, and we were on the road in half an hour after.

After riding four miles on a continued ridge of Sideling-hill, we stopped at a log tavern to pick up the old soldier Wagstaff, whose stories had amused me so much at Skinner’s in Horse valley, and who was a neighbour of Wilson’s. He had the hog-driving lad still with him, and one horse between them which they rode alternately.

It was not yet day, and the scene in the tavern was, to me, truly novel. It was a large half finished log house, with no apparent accommodation for any traveller who had not his own bed or blanket. It was surrounded on the outside by wagons and horses, and inside, the whole floor was so filled with people sleeping, wrapped in their blankets round a large fire, that there was no such thing as approaching it to get warm, until some of the travellers who had awoke at our entrance, went out to feed their horses, after doing which, they returned, drank whiskey under {44} the name of bitters, and resumed their beds on the floor—singing, laughing, joking, romping, and apparently as happy as possible. So much for custom.

About four miles from hence, we descended the western side of Sideling-hill mountains, here called Rays-hill, at the foot of which we forded the river Juniata, a beautiful stream, about sixty yards wide, which after meandering in a wonderful manner through this mountainous part of the country upwards of 200 miles, through a space of not more than 100 of a direct line, falls into the Susquehannah about twenty miles above Harrisburgh; in all which distance it is navigable for large flat boats, of which considerable numbers are employed transporting the abundant produce of those remote regions to the Susquehannah, and down that river to Baltimore, from whence it finds its way to Europe, destined to assist in feeding those countries, which gave birth to the ancestors of the cultivators of this.

After crossing the Juniata, we pursued our road through a broken country, very hilly, with the river almost always in sight, sometimes on one hand and sometimes on the other, as its bends approached or receded from the road, and sometimes directly under us at the foot of terrifick precipices, down one of which, about twenty years ago, a wagon was carried by the horses, falling 3 or 400 feet perpendicular—The wagonner and horses were killed, and the wagon was dashed to pieces.

At three miles and a half from the ford, we stopped to feed our horses at a small log tavern, where was a large family, with three or four very pretty girls, who forfeited the admiration they would otherwise have commanded, by being covered with the itch, which made me cautious how I ordered any thing to eat or drink, although I could have done justice to a good breakfast.

The same kind of country continues to Bedford, {45} the road leading through two remarkable defiles between the mountains, which as well as the river sometimes approach and sometimes recede, the country gradually improving both in population and quality of soil as we advanced.

At three miles from where we fed our horses, we passed through a village of a dozen houses, called Bloody run, in memory of a massacre by the Indians of about 250 militia, while escorting a convoy of provisions to the western frontier, soon after Braddock’s defeat near Pittsburgh.[18]

Three miles further, we passed a hamlet of three or four houses, called Snake-spring, from an immense number of snakes discovered there in a hole and killed: And in four miles more, at 11 o’clock, we entered Bedford, crossing two bridges half a mile from the town, one over Crooked creek, and the other over the west or Raystown branch, which uniting a little below, form the Juniata.

We put up at Fleming’s and fed the horses while I breakfasted. When ready to proceed, I mounted, but found my mare so lame, that I was obliged to remain behind, while my companions endeavoured to get her along by driving her before them.

FOOTNOTES:

[18] Jones, History of Juniata Valley (Philadelphia, 1856) gives a different origin for the term “Bloody Run.” He derives it from the attempt of the inhabitants, in the spring of 1765, to arrest a convoy that was being sent by the Pennsylvania authorities to Pittsburg with presents for the Indians. An English officer reporting the action, said that the creek “ran with blood.” For the effect of this affair on the pacification of the Indians, see New York Colonial Documents, vii, p. 716. For the history of Bedford, see Post’s Journals, vol. i of this series, p. 240, note 81.—Ed.

CHAPTER VI

Bedford—Travellers and travelling—Whiskey preferred to victuals and necessaries—Obliging disposition of inhabitants—A musical and social judge—Departure in the stage—The Allegheny mountains—Somerset—Good inn—A murder—visit to the gaol.

Making a virtue of necessity, I consoled myself under my disappointment, by restoring to my constitution the equilibrium of rest, which it was deprived {46} of last night, by the anguish of my foot, and the impatience of the elder Wilson; I accordingly went to bed, and enjoyed an hour’s refreshing repose, after which I arose and sauntered about the house until supper was announced, which I partook of with my civil and attentive host and hostess Mr. and Mrs. Fleming.

Soon after supper, five travellers from the N. W. part of the state, arrived on horseback, with whom I conversed until bed time. They were on their way to Baltimore, and were plain Irishmen, uninformed of any thing beyond their own business, which appeared to be that of packers, or travelling merchants, who vend groceries and various merchandize through the country.

The travelling on these roads in every direction is truly astonishing, even at this inclement season, but in the spring and fall, I am informed that it is beyond all conception.

Apropos of travelling—A European, who had not experienced it, could form no proper idea of the manner of it in this country. The travellers are, wagonners, carrying produce to, and bringing back foreign goods from the different shipping ports on the shores of the Atlantick, particularly Philadelphia and Baltimore;—Packers with from one to twenty horses, selling or trucking their wares through the country;—Countrymen, sometimes alone, sometimes in large companies, carrying salt from M’Connelstown, and other points of navigation on the Potomack and Susquehannah, for the curing of their beef, pork, venison, &c.;—Families removing further back into the country, some with cows, oxen, horses, sheep, and hogs, and all their farming implements and domestick utensils, and some without; some with wagons, some with carts and some on foot, according to their abilities:—The residue, who made use of the best accommodations on the roads, are country merchants, {47} judges and lawyers attending the courts, members of the legislature, and the better class of settlers removing back. All the first four descriptions carry provisions for themselves and horses, live most miserably, and wrapped in blankets, occupy the floor of the bar rooms of the taverns where they stop each night, which the landlords give them the use of, with as much wood as they choose to burn, in consideration of the money they pay them for whiskey, of which they drink great quantities, expending foolishly, for that which poisons them, as much money as would render them comfortable otherwise.—So far do they carry this mania for whiskey, that to procure it, they in the most niggardly manner deny themselves even the necessaries of life; and, as I was informed by my landlord Fleming, an observing and rational man, countrymen while attending the courts (for they are generally involved in litigation, of which they are very fond) occupy the bar rooms of the taverns in the country towns, for several days together, making one meal serve them each day, and sometimes two, and even three days—but drinking whiskey without bounds during the same time. The latter description of travellers—the merchants, lawyers, &c. travel as in other countries—making use of and paying for their regular meals, beds, &c.

The pain of my foot having been much alleviated, by an application of bran and vinegar all night, the next morning after my arrival in Bedford, I walked out into the town, and having occasion to call at some tradesmen’s shops, and at another excellent tavern where the stage from the eastward stops, as that from the westward does at Fleming’s, I was much gratified with the civility and desire to please, which I observed throughout, which impressed me much in favour of the place, and the impression was heightened by another circumstance that forenoon. I had sat down to write, and while engaged at it, the bar {48} keeper, who had been amusing himself with an octave flute, of which I had made a pocket companion, opened the door, and introduced a gentleman of the middle age, who I supposed to be a traveller; but he soon undeceived me, by telling me that he had been informed I was fond of musick, and that I had a German flute with me, which was also his instrument, and he had taken the liberty of calling on me to inform me, that there was a musical society in Bedford, of which he was a member, and that he would convene it that evening for my amusement, if I would assist them by taking a part. I excused myself on account of the pain of my foot, and also on my flute being an octave. He then hoped a glass of punch would be acceptable, which I declined, saying, I never drank spirits of any description. There was something perhaps ungracious in my refusal of his proffered civilities, for he appeared hurt, and made a movement to depart, but I made my peace, and prevailed on him to give me half an hour of his company, by observing that although I was a bad fellow with respect to the bottle, I nevertheless enjoyed very much the society of the well bred and well informed, and felt myself much obliged to him for his polite attention. He proved to be a man of good theoretick information, but with little practical worldly knowledge. From a desire to appear to merit the compliment I had paid him, he was particularly studious of his language, measuring each word, and weighing every sentence before he gave it utterance;—prefacing each speech with “If I may be permitted to hazard an opinion,”—“According to my local ideas,” and other set phrases to fill up the vacuum, while considering what he should next say on the subject under discussion. We talked of the country—of robberies—murders and accidents, and at last he bade me good morning; setting me down, no doubt, as a poor devil without soul, who would {49} not drink spirits. On his taking leave, “my name, Sir, said he is S—— it would perhaps be an unwarrantable liberty to ask yours,” “Not at all, Sir, mine is ——.” Mrs. Fleming afterwards told me that he was one of the associate judges of the county, “a very clever and fine spoken man,” but rather over fond of the universal enemy;—that he had lost considerable property, but that his wife’s fortune being secured to herself, enabled him to still enjoy some of the comforts of life.

This afternoon my wagonner arrived, and went on, appointing to be in Pittsburgh on the Friday or Saturday evening of next week.

Bedford the capital of a county of the same name, is very romantically situated—being hemmed in on all sides by low mountains covered with woods except on the north, towards which point is a long vista, so that it has not unaptly been compared to a barber’s bason, with the rim cut out on one side for the chin. It was considered as a frontier only about twenty years ago; when some of the stoccado which had defended it when it had a garrison, was still to be seen.[19] It now contains about 80 houses, of brick, stone and logs. It has a court-house, a gaol, and school-house, and I was informed that a house is used as a place of worship for any Christian sect, and that sometimes a travelling minister of one or other of the various divisions into which, to its disgrace, Christianity is split, stops to remind the inhabitants of their religious duties.[20]

{50} Apropos of religion.—Asking for a book last night, my landlord sent me Richard Brother’s prophecies, with which farrago of enthusiastick madness, I read myself to sleep. The town is supplied with water from a spring half a mile distant, by means of wooden pipes, which conduct it to a reservoir in the centre: And some chalybeate springs strongly impregnated with sulphur, have lately been discovered in the neighbourhood; to which, according to custom, whether with justice or otherwise, great medicinal virtues are attributed.[21] This town was incorporated in 1794, and is governed by two burgesses, a constable, a town clerk and three assistants.

{51} The 31st day of January at 4 in the morning, I left Bedford in the stage with three gentlemen and a young girl passengers. It had snowed all night, {52} and the ground was covered some inches deep, so we had to proceed slowly to break the road, crossing the West branch of the Juniata twice in the first three miles. As day dawned, the country appeared to be in general rather better settled and cultivated than on the eastern side of Bedford, but it was still very hilly, and wood was the prevailing feature. At half past 10, we had reached the foot of the Allegheny {53} ridge, where we breakfasted; and here I found one of the advantages of travelling in the stage, was to be charged a sixteenth of a dollar more per meal, than if one travelled in any other way.

We were now in Somerset county, and having changed stages, horses, and drivers, we ascended by a very easy road of one mile to the top of the highest ridge of land in the United States, to the eastward of which all the rivers flow to the eastward, to empty themselves into the Atlantick ocean, while to the westward, they flow westerly to unite with the Mississippi, which is their common aqueduct to the gulph of Mexico.[22]

The face of the country before us now changed for the better; not being broken as to the eastward, but fine extensive levels and slopes, well inhabited and cultivated; and the ridges of hills, though long, not so steep, and finely clothed with heavy wood. This was the general appearance of the country, until we arrived at Somerset, the capital of the county, 14 miles from the top of the Allegheny ridge.

This is a new town, having been laid out and built within twenty years: It contains about seventy tolerably good houses, with a court-house, where upstairs, is the present place of worship, common to all sects like Bedford, until a church, which is to be in common also, is erected, for which the town has petitioned the assembly to enable them to raise $3000 by lottery.

We stopped at Webster’s excellent, comfortable, and well furnished inn, where we found good fires, a good supper, and a series of the Baltimore Daily Advertiser.

Since I had come over the three mountains between Strasburgh and Ramsay’s, the principal subject of conversation along the road, was concerning the murder by two Frenchmen of a Mr. David Pollock, on the 23d of this month, on Allegheny mountain. {54} They had shot him, and when he fell in consequence from his horse, they dragged him off the road into the wood, and stabbed him with a knife in several places. He was soon after discovered dead by a company of packers, who had seen two men but a little while before, and had heard soon after, the reports of a double barrelled gun carried by one of them. This, and the meeting of a horse with a saddle and saddle-bags, and no rider, gave them a suspicion, and induced them to search in the wood, following the tracks of men from the road into the wood, to the body. After returning to the road they again saw the two men whom they suspected come out of the woods before them. They pursued them, but lost sight of them at a turning in the road, where they again took into the woods. The packers rode on to the next house and gave an alarm, which soon mustered the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who arming themselves, went in pursuit of the murderers. One of them resisting, when discovered, was shot, and the other apprehended, and lodged in Somerset gaol.

I had been informed that the prisoner neither spoke, nor understood English, and that since his apprehension, he had no interpreter with him, except a German farmer, who understood French but badly. Impelled by humanity, I asked my landlord to accompany me to visit him. He was a poor, ignorant, abject, pusillanimous wretch of the name of Noel Hugue, and had lately arrived in America from Marseilles, where he had been a traiteur or cook. He denied the murder or any knowledge of it, but his story was inconsistent and dissatisfactory. On my informing him of the motives of my visit, he was very grateful. I advised him to write to any persons at New York or Philadelphia, where he had staid some time after his arrival, who might have it in their power to send him any testimonial of character; {55} and, as I thought his case desperate, to write to his friends or connections in France, and that the court before which he would be tried, or whatever lawyer was charged with his defence, would forward his letters. On my return to the inn a Mr. Leiper, a young gentleman just called to the bar, requested me to accompany him to the gaol, to interpret between him and the prisoner, as he intended voluntarily to undertake his defence, although it was so unpopular as not to be unattended with personal danger, in the irritated state of mind of the country. I complied with his request, but from the interview, I had no reason to expect his humane attempt would be, or ought to be successful.[23]

FOOTNOTES:

[19] Part of the log building, which formed the garrison here, and which was erected by the troops of Geo. III. king of Great Britain, still exists, and has been newly weatherboarded lately, and now forms a kitchen to a tavern.—Cramer.

[20] In the summer of 1809, the foundation of a new Presbyterian church was laid in Bedford opposite the court-house for the Rev Mr. Boyd’s congregation, a young clergyman of handsome talents, and who had settled here a short time before.—Cramer..

[21] It is perhaps worth while for the sake of a curious and important fact, to mention the extraordinary effects of the water on a gentleman who had visited this spring in the summer of 1809, and who before he left it, discharged from his bowels a living monster, described by some who saw it, as a lizard, by others a crab, with legs, claws, &c. and of considerable size.—The unhappy man had been ill for several years, without being able to get any relief by the aid of skilful physicians. Immediately after this, he began to recover, and is now in a fair way of regaining his health.

Of the four classes of mineral waters known, the water of this spring unites the qualities of at least three of them, viz. The saline, the sulphurous, and the martial—but of the second it is lightly tinctured. Its usual effects on people in health, are those of an immediate and powerful diuretick, a gentle cathartick, with a considerable increase of perspiration, and sometimes a slight emetick, this last happening but very seldom. The water may be drank in great quantities with safety, from two to thirty half pints, being the usual quantity in the course of an hour before breakfast. Some indeed drink fifty half pints, while others are considerably incommoded by drinking a gill, which was the case with Mrs. Snyder, wife of governor Snyder, whose death was lately announced. She was at the spring, August 1809, but her case, which was of the consumptive kind, was too far gone to admit of recovery. Not being able to take the water, she tarried but a few days, and returned to Lancaster with her companion, Miss ——

The following Latin poem written by James Ross, teacher of the languages in the Philadelphia academy, formerly of Chambersburgh, and author of an excellent grammar, with its translation in prose by the Rev. Mr. Willson, teacher of the languages in Bedford, descriptive of this spring, and the quality of its waters, &c. will be read with pleasure.

J. ANDERSON, M. D.
Hos versiculos symbolum amicitiæ inscribit,
JA. ROSS,
IN PONTEM BEDFORDIÆ SALUTAREM.

Monte decurrens, velut amnis, alto,

Fons, loquax nunquam, tacitus recedis,

Abditus terris, catebrasque celans

Fluminis unda.

Non alis campos virides vel agros;

Non greges pascis, vitulosque vaccas;

Non tuæ ripæ generant leones

Dente furentes.

Sed tuas undas celebrant Puellæ,

Femulæ et Matres, Puerique Sponsi,

Has Senes undas adamant Anusque

Ore bibentes.

Hisque gaudentes Homines levabunt

Pectoris morbos, capitis dolores;

Aurium sensus, laterumque pœnas

Sæpe lavando.

Has bibant isti quibus est podagra;

Has quibus tussis mala, nec fuganda

Artibus, cura aut Medici periti;

Namque levabunt.

Quin et afflicti, ac oculisque lumbis

Has bibant undas, stomacho dolentes;

Pauperes, dites, recreentque corpus

Sæpe bibendo.

Has bibant undas vacui, salubres;

Nil nocent salus Puerisve Nymphis:

Pauperes multi hæc, simul atque dites,

Dicere possunt.

Bedfordiæ, (Pennsylvanorum) quarto }

Kal. Septembres, A.D. 1809. }

Bedford Gazette.

TRANSLATION

To John Anderson, M. D. the following Verses are inscribed, as a token of Friendship, by the Author James Ross

ON THE MEDICINAL SPRING OF BEDFORD

From the base of a lofty mountain issuing, O fountain, thy profusion of waters, thou sendest forth in silence, from thy fountain, deep in earth’s womb embowled, them mingling with the stream, which murmurs below, thou loosest. No verdant plains, nor verdant fields are nourished by thy stream irriguous. Nor flocks, nor younglings of the herd dost thou with food supply. To no prowling beasts of prey, do thy shady, thy romantick banks, afford shelter or refuge. Hence, blooming virgins gay, matrons old, and aged sires, and youths lately in wedlock joined: greatly delight to saunter along thy streams; and, in the cool refreshing shade, to quaff thy healing waters.

While, with heartfelt satisfaction, the valetudinarian, in the waters of this fountain, laves himself, the diseases of the breast—the pains of the head—the distresses of the side—and deafness, which prevents the ear from drinking in the rich melodies of musick, all shrink from the healing efficacy of the healthful element. Let those drink whom the gout torments, and those whom the distressing cough annoys, diseases, which yield not to the art or care of the physician, however learned. In drinking, they certain aid shall find. The humble cottager, and wealthy lord, however weakened by disease shall re-invigorate their systems, by drinking these waters. Tender eyes shall regain their strength—lost powers of digestion shall again return—and the enfeebled loins, with new strength be girded. Let the sons of leisure, and votaries of amusement, on these health preserving waters regale themselves. The vigorous young man, and the rosy cheeked, from them receives no harm. Rich and poor innumerous, can well attest the truths I sing.

Ibid.—Cramer.

[22] The Allegheny Ridge is in fact but twenty-five hundred feet in height. The White Mountains of New Hampshire and the Cumberland Mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee exceed it in altitude.—Ed.

[23] This man was hung at Somerset after April court, 1807. He positively denied to the last of having any knowledge of the crime for which he was about to suffer death. He also declared his companion, who was shot in taking him, innocent, and as having no knowledge of the circumstance of the death of Pollock.—Cramer.

CHAPTER VII

Proceed on journey—Political parties—Laurel hill—Chesnut-hills—Greensburgh—Bad road—Fine prospect—Pittsburgh.

The 1st February at 4 A. M. I left Somerset in a sleigh, a good deal of snow having fallen the day before. One of the gentlemen and the little girl having quitted the stage, my companions now were only a Mr. M’Kinley, of West Liberty near Wheeling in Virginia, one of the representatives in the state assembly, returning home from Richmond, and a Mr. Archer of Centreville in Ohio, returning home also, from a circuitous voyage and journey to New Orleans {56} and Baltimore; during which he had visited the Havanna, and New Providence in the Bahamas.—As we all possessed some information different from each other, we beguiled our journey by conversation pleasantly enough, except when politicks were introduced, on which, my fellow travellers being of opposite sentiments, I was sometimes under the necessity of starting some new subject, to prevent their being wrought up to an irritation of temper, which not only prevented cool argument, but sometimes in spite of my endeavours to the contrary, arose to such a height as to nearly approach to personalities.

Politicks, throughout the whole of this country, seems to be the most irritable subject which can be discussed. There are two ruling or prevailing parties; one, which styles itself Federal, founded originally on the federal league or constitution which binds the states to each other; in contradistinction to a party which attempted to prevent the concurrence of the states to the present constitution, and after it was agreed to, made some fruitless attempts to disorganize it, and was called Antifederal. The opposite party is one which has since sprung up and styles itself the Democratick Republican. Since the federal constitution has been established, the first party exists no longer except in name. That which assumes it, stickles for the offices of government being executed with a high hand, and is therefore accused of aristocratick and even of monarchick sentiments by its opponents, who in their turn are termed factious, and disorganizers, by the federalists. They nickname each other Aristocrats and Democrats, and it is astonishing to what a height their mutual animosity is carried. They are not content with declaiming against each other in congress, or in the state legislatures, but they introduce the subject even at the bars of the judicial courts, and in the pulpits of the places of religious worship. In some places, {57} the males who might otherwise be on terms of friendship with each other, are, merely on account of their diversity of sentiment on politicks, avowed and illiberal enemies; and the females carry the spirit of party into their coteries, so far as to exclude every female whose husband is of a different political opinion, however amiable, and ornamental to society she may be. The most illiberal opinions are adopted by each party, and it is sufficient with a federalist that another man is a republican, to pronounce him capable of every crime; while the republican takes care not to allow the federalist the smallest of the attributes of virtue.—Their general difference of opinion, at last becomes particular, and a mistaken point of honour frequently hurries the one or the other maniack into a premature grave.—The political wheel is kept in constant motion by those two parties, who monopolize it to themselves, to the exclusion of the moderate, well disposed, and best informed part of the community; who quietly pursue their several avocations, lamenting at, yet amused by the bickerings, disputes and quarrels of the turbulent and ambitious leaders of the parties, and their ignorant, prejudiced and obstinate tools—satisfied with the unexampled prosperity they enjoy as a people and a nation—and equally watchful perhaps to guard against tyranny or licentiousness, with the violent and avowed opponents of both.

After travelling seven miles through the glades, a rather barren and thinly settled plain, we crossed a bridge over Laurel hill creek, a mile beyond which we began to ascend Laurel hill, which we continued to do two miles further to Evart’s tavern, where we breakfasted. Six miles more, brought us to the beginning of the descent westerly, there being several settlements on each side the road between the ridges of the mountain in that distance. From this point we had an extensive view as far west as the eye could {58} reach, over and beyond Chesnut hills. After descending two miles, we crossed Indian creek at the foot of the mountain. I now remarked that the woods were much thicker, and the trees larger and taller, than the same species to the eastward. A mile from Indian creek, Mr. M’Kinley pointed out one of the finest farms between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, owned by one M’Mullen, an Irishman.

At 10 A. M. we changed horses and our sleigh for a stage wagon, two miles from M’Mullen’s, at M’Ginnis’s, perhaps the dirtiest tavern on the whole road. We then continued ten miles over a very broken hilly country, with rich valleys, crossing a high ridge called Chesnut hills, from whence the western country is spread out under the view, like an immense forest, appearing flat from the height we were at, though it is in fact, as we found it, very hilly. We crossed the river Sewickly, a fine mill stream, by a bridge, ten miles from M’Ginnis’s, and eight miles further we arrived at Greensburgh, the capital of Westmoreland county, which we had entered at the eastern foot of Laurel hill.

Greensburgh is a compact, well built, snug little town, of about a hundred houses, with a handsome court-house, a Presbyterian meeting-house, and a market-house.[24]

On entering Habach’s tavern, I was no little surprised to see a fine coal fire, and I was informed that coal is the principal fuel of the country fifty or sixty miles round Pittsburgh. It is laid down at the doors here for six cents a bushel.

After supper we were joined by a Mr. Holly, a doctor, and another gentleman, residents of the town, according to the custom of the country, where the inhabitants are in habits of collecting what information they can from travellers. We had a long political discussion, originating on the subject of Col. Burr’s projects; and amongst the six present, there {59} were no two who agreed in sentiment. Indeed, in this country every man thinks for himself, or at least he imagines he does, and would suppose himself insulted, was another to attempt openly to bias his opinion; but notwithstanding this supposed liberty of sentiment, superior talents when united to ambition, seldom fail of drawing the mass after them. The conversation of this evening was both amusing and instructive; some of the party, particularly Mr. Holly, a New England man, being possessed of very good information, and the arguments were conducted with cool, dispassionate reasoning.

About 8 o’clock, the landlord, who was a German, came into the room and offered to light us to bed: My fellow travellers complied, but I told him I should sit up two hours longer. The old man repeated my words, “two hours,” shrugged up his shoulders and went off, while I literally kept my word, amused by a series of three or four of the last Baltimore Federal Gazettes. On going to bed, and finding the bed clothes very light, I added the covering of another bed in the room to mine, which I left so in the morning as a hint to the house.

At five o’clock next morning, we resumed our journey, and found very little snow on the road, though there was so much on the mountains behind us.

The aspect of the country is similar to what it is between the Laurel hills and Greensburgh. Hills running in ridges from north to south, heavily wooded with white oak, walnut, sugar tree and other timber natural to the climate; and the valleys narrow, but rich and all settled.

At eight miles from Greensburgh, we passed on our right an excellent house and fine farm of a Col. Irwin, one of the assistant judges; and three miles further we stopped to change horses and breakfast at {60} Stewart’s, where we were charged only a quarter of a dollar each.

We soon after entered Allegheny county. The weather was cold and clear, and very pleasant for the season, but the country afforded no variety, being still, hill, dale, woods, and scattering farms. At nine miles from Stewart’s, we descended a very long and steep hill, by a shocking road, crossed Turtle creek at the bottom, which runs to the southward to join the river Monongahela, 12 miles above its confluence with the Allegheny; we then ascended another hill by an equally bad and dangerous road. It is astonishing that in so fine and so improving a country more attention is not paid to the roads. A turnpike is projected from Pittsburgh to Harrisburgh, which I am clearly of opinion, might be kept in repair by a reasonable toll;—and then wagons with goods may travel between the two places in a third less time than they do now, and without the present great risks of breaking down, and the mails may be delivered at the post-offices one half sooner.

When about seven miles from Pittsburgh, we had a picturesque view of the Monongahela on the left, which was soon hid again by the intervening hills; and when within three miles of that town, the view was beautiful over the fine low cultivated level, or bottom, as it is called, which skirts the river Allegheny from thence to Pittsburgh, which is seen at the confluence of that river with the Monongahela; beyond which, the high and steep coal hill crowned by a farm house most romantically situated, seems to impend directly over the glass manufactury, on the bank of the river opposite the town.

The last two miles was along the fine level above mentioned, passing on the right, between the road and the Allegheny, the handsome seat of Mr. John Woods, a respectable lawyer;[25] and immediately after, {61} we passed Fort Fayette, a stockaded post on the right[26]—entered Pittsburgh, and put up at Wm. M’Cullough’s excellent inn.

FOOTNOTES:

[24] For an account of Greensburgh, see Michaux’s Travels, vol. iii of this series, p. 153, note 16.—Ed.

[25] John Woods was one of the two first lawyers in Pittsburg, being admitted to the bar from Allegheny County in 1786. He represented the city in Congress from 1815-17.—Ed.

[26] For Fort Fayette, see Michaux’s Travels, vol. iii of this series, p. 32, note 12.—Ed.

CHAPTER VIII

Unprepossessing appearance of Pittsburgh—Causes—Comfortable situation—Abundance of coal—M’Cullough’s inn—Confinement there by indisposition—Attention of some of the inhabitants—Memoirs of an uncommon character—Apollonian society—Dramatick societies—Lawyers—Clergymen—State of society injured by politicks and other causes—Physicians.

The appearance of Pittsburgh in the winter, is by no means pleasing, notwithstanding its fine situation, as, none of the streets being paved except Market street,[27] they are so extremely miry, that it is impossible to walk them without wading over the ankle, except during frosty weather, which rarely continues many days successively, from its lying so low, and being so well sheltered, by the surrounding hills. This, though unpleasant now, is in reality in favour of the place, as when the streets are all paved, that inconvenience will be obviated, and the advantage of shelter from the bleak wintry winds will still remain, without its being followed by an exclusion of fresh air during the summer, as the rivers, at that season act as ventilators, a refreshing breeze always drawing up or down one of them, increasing {62} with the elevation of the sun until noon, and then gradually subsiding into a calm towards sunset; while at a little distance from those air conductors (the rivers) even in high situations, an oppressive heat not rarified by the most gentle zephyr, prevails during the same time.

Another cause of the unprepossessing appearance of Pittsburgh, proceeds from the effect of one of the most useful conveniences and necessaries of life, which it enjoys in a pre-eminent degree; namely, fuel, consisting of as fine coal as any in the world, in such plenty, so easily wrought, and so near the town, that it is delivered in wagons drawn by four horses, at the doors of the inhabitants, at the rate of five cents per bushel.

A load of forty bushels which costs only two dollars, will keep two fires in a house a month, and in consequence, there are few houses, even amongst the poorest of the inhabitants, where at least two fires are not used—one for cooking, and another for the family to sit at. This great consumption of a coal abounding in sulphur, and its smoke condensing into a vast quantity of lampblack, gives the outside of the houses a dirty and disagreeable appearance—even more so than in the most populous towns of Great Britain, where a proportionably great quantity of coal is used; which must be caused by a difference of quality, which appears in the grate to be in favour of the coal of this country.

The winter being too far advanced for boats to descend the Ohio, I preferred remaining in Pittsburgh, until I should have an opportunity of continuing my journey to the westward by water, to going on immediately by land, as I wished to see the banks of that celebrated river, as far as it lay in my route.

I therefore became a weekly boarder and lodger at M’Cullough’s, which though an inn much frequented by travellers, I found to be as quiet, as regular, {63} and as orderly, as any private lodging house; the beds equally cleanly, the table more plentiful, and the charge as moderate. As M’Cullough lays himself out to accommodate travellers, or regular lodgers, he applies himself solely to that, and discourages every thing which might subject his house to the noise, revelry, and confusion of a tavern. His wife an amiable and obliging woman, and three daughters, fine and good girls just grown up, attend to the business of the house, and the accommodation of their guests, so well, that a man must be fastidious to a fault, who would not be perfectly satisfied with such quarters.

The streets being extremely dirty, and my foot still paining me much from the consequence of its being blistered on my journey between Lancaster and Middleton, I confined myself to the house for several days after my arrival, going out only once during that time, to call on general O’Hara[28] and Mr. Abner Barker on business. Confinement is at any time unpleasant; but at an inn, however good the accommodation, in a strange place, without a single acquaintance, and suffering continued torture from an inflammation in a limb, the pain of which would have prevented my enjoying a book, even had there been a library within my reach, was to me excessively so.

A few neighbouring gentlemen hearing that a stranger was at M’Cullough’s confined by indisposition, did me the favour of calling on me, and the attentions of doctor Andrew Richardson, Mr. James Mountain, a learned practitioner at the bar, and Messrs. Anthony Beelen and Nicholas Cunningham respectable merchants, prevented my being able to charge Pittsburgh with an absolute want of hospitality. The two former offered me the use of their judiciously selected libraries, when I should become sufficiently convalescent to go out, and the perusal of any of their books in the interim, and the first supplied {64} me with the Philadelphia and Baltimore newspapers as they arrived by post, twice weekly.

A few evenings after my arrival, the daughters of my host had a numerous party of young people of both sexes to spend the evening and practice vocal musick under the directions of a Mr. Tyler who had taught them. They displayed taste and harmony enough to do honour to their venerable teacher, and I was tempted to join the sounds of my flute to the sweet treble of some of the young ladies. This led to a degree of confidence to me from Mr. Tyler, who on retiring to bed in the same room, imparted to me his little history, which though not replete with incident, was singular and affecting, exhibiting generous benevolent simplicity, a victim to vice and ingratitude. He was an Englishman, and had been one of the choristers of a cathedral in England from whence he had emigrated to America, when a young man. He had exercised his talent in teaching sacred musick, in the eastern part of Pennsylvania, until he had acquired a sufficiency to purchase a farm in the neighbourhood of Carlisle, where he and his wife settled. They were childless—an infant foundling which they chanced to see, impressed them with the idea of supplying themselves with what nature had denied them. They took the boy home, adopted him as their son, and spared neither pains nor expence to give him the best education the country afforded. He grew up a most promising youth, and bid fair to reward them for their parental cares, by smoothing their decline of life, with a return of those attentions which they had lavished on him from his helpless childhood. The lad was a good accomptant, and was placed with a storekeeper in Carlisle, until he was supposed by his benefactors sufficiently versed in business, to manage for himself. Tyler then expended the savings of many years industry to furnish for him a respectable country store. The young {65} man commenced business with the fairest prospects, but he had unfortunately contracted habits of drinking and gambling. His business was neglected, one loss followed another, but he had the art of still imposing on the unsuspecting simplicity of his blindly partial and generous patron, until he prevailed on him to be his security for larger sums than his remaining stock of goods would pay. He then absconded, his creditors sued the old man, who to save himself from prison was obliged to dispose of his farm, and after paying the debts of the ungrateful prodigal, with the very small sum which remained to him, he and his wife last year at upwards of sixty years of age each, crossed the mountains, at an inclement season, and purchased a small tract of land about seven miles from Pittsburgh, on which he has since erected a cottage, and where he has cleared and cultivated a few acres, and to enable himself to make his payments, he has taught sacred vocal musick in this town and the surrounding country these two successive winters. His enthusiasm for vocal harmony, and his innocent unsuspecting simplicity, untainted during a long life, by worldly craft, and still believing the mass of mankind as honest and virtuous as himself, notwithstanding the trying proof he had experienced of its baseness, rendered him a singular and original character; I say original, for I much question, whether any person into whose hands these sheets may fall, can turn his eye inwardly, and exclaim with a conscience void of offence and selfishness, I too am a general philanthropist, like the good old English singing master.

Several musical amateurs are associated here under the title of the Apollonian Society. I visited it by invitation at the house of Mr. F. Amelung the acting President, and was most agreeably surprised to hear a concert of instrumental musick performed by about a dozen gentlemen of the town, with a degree {66} of taste and execution, which I could not have expected in so remote a place. I was particularly astonished at the performance on the violin of Mr. Gabler, a German, employed at Gen. O’Hara’s glass house, and who is one of the society. His natural talents for musick were so great, that he could not bear the trammels of a scientifick acquisition of it, and therefore never learned a note, yet he joins a correct extempore harmony, to the compositions of Hayden, Pleyel, Bach, Mozart and the other celebrated composers, particularly in their lively movements; he is not quite so happy in his accompaniments of Handel, or of grand or solemn musick generally. His execution of Waltz’s is in a sweet and tasty style, and he has composed by ear and committed to memory several pieces, which impress the hearer with regret, that they must die with their author. Indeed he now (when too late) regrets himself, that he had not in his youth, and when he had great opportunities, added science to natural taste.

The Apollonian society is principally indebted for its formation to the labours of Mr. S. H. Dearborn,[29] a New England man, who came here about a year ago, to exercise the profession of a portrait painter, and being a very versatile genius, and having some knowledge of, and taste for musick, he soon discovered all the respectable people who were harmoniously inclined, and succeeded in associating them into a regular society, which meets one evening every week, and consists not only of those who can take parts, but also of many of the most respectable inhabitants of the town, who do not play, but who become members, for the sake of admission for themselves and families to the periodical concerts.

There are also two dramatick societies in Pittsburgh, {67} one composed of the students of law, and the other of respectable mechanicks. They occasionally unite with each other in order to cast the pieces to be performed with more effect. The theatre is in the great room of the upper story of the court-house, which from its size, and having several other contiguous apartments which serve for green room, dressing rooms, &c. is very well adapted to that purpose. It is neatly fitted up under the direction of Mr. Dearborn, whose mechanical genius has rendered him a useful associate of the disciples of Thespis; whether as machinist, dresser, scene painter and shifter or actor; particularly in the part of the garrulous Mrs. Bulgruddery in John Bull, which he performs with much respectability. Mr. W. Wilkins[30] excels in genteel comedy; Mr. Johnston does justice to the part of an Irishman; Mr. Haslet to that of a Yorkshire farmer or country squire; Mr. Linton in low comedy is the Edwin of Pittsburgh, and Mr. Van Baun would be an ornament to any established theatre, either in the sock or the buskin, he being equally excellent in Octavian as in Fribble. The female characters being sustained by young men, are deficient of that grace and modest vivacity, which are natural to the fair sex, and which their grosser lords and masters vainly attempt to copy. On the whole however, the dramatick societies, exhibit in a very respectable manner, a rational entertainment to the inhabitants of Pittsburgh about once monthly through the winter. They have hitherto confined themselves to the comick walk, but I have no doubt, that if they appear in the buskin, they will do equal credit to tragedy.

Some of the gentlemen of the bar resident here, are very respectable in the profession of the law. Mr. Ross, formerly a senator, and set up in unsuccessful opposition to Mr. M’Kean, for governor of the state, is an orator of the first abilities—his oratory {68} being clear, intelligible and impressive.[31] Mr. Mountain, to deep learning, adds careful investigation of the cause of his client, and is apt and happy in his quotations. Mr. W. Wilkins is by nature an orator. His person, action, and gesture are favourable to him—his words flow at will in a style of manly and bold oratory which commands attention.—He has no occasion to study his periods, they form themselves—he enters in earnest into the cause of his client, and rarely fails to give it its full weight—but perhaps he sometimes works himself up into too great warmth of language, which may be occasioned by the glowing impulse of youth operating on a fertile fancy—he apparently not exceeding twenty-five years of age. Mr. Addison,[32] Mr. Semple, Mr. Woods, Mr. Baldwin, and Mr. Collins[33] are spoken of as very able practitioners, but as I had not the pleasure of witnessing their exertions at the bar, I cannot take it upon me to describe their talents, even was I adequate to it.

There are five societies of Christians, which have each an established minister—Mr. Steele[34] the pastor of one of the Presbyterian societies, possesses all that liberality of sentiment and Christian charity inculcated by the divine founder of his religion, and dignifies the pulpit by his clear and pleasing exposition of the scriptures. Mr. Taylor the Episcopal minister, is an able mathematician, a liberal philosopher, and a man of unaffected simplicity of manners. His discourses from the pulpit are good moral lectures, well adapted to the understanding of his hearers. He is an assistant teacher in the academy. Of Mr. Boggs,[35] the minister of the other Presbyterian society, {69} or of Mr. Black, the minister of a large society of a sect of Presbyterians called covenanters, I am not adequate to speak, not having yet heard either officiate. Mr. Sheva,[36] pastor of a congregation of German Lutherans, is a man of liberal morality, and a lively social companion. There are here several Roman Catholicks,[37] Methodists,[38] and Anabaptists—who have as yet no established place of worship, but who occasionally meet to profit by the exhortations of some of their spiritual directors, who travel this way. On the whole, the religious sects appear to be more free here than in most places I have visited, from those illiberal and anti-christian prejudices, which render Christianity the scoff of even the ignorant Indians, whom we term savages.

But though difference of religious opinions does not cause any animosity here, politicks have reduced society to a most deplorable state. There are two parties, which style themselves Federal republicans, and Democratick republicans, but who speaking of each other, leave out the word republican, and call each other Federalists and Democrats. I have already described their opinions, which are argued with more warmth, and are productive of more rancour and violence in Pittsburgh than perhaps in any other part of America.[39] There are very few neutrals, {70} as it requires a bold independence of sentiment, to prevent a person from attaching himself to one or other party, and besides, to a man who has not resources for the employment of time within himself, the alternative of not being of one or other party is insupportable, as he is shunned equally by both, and in this populous town lives with respect to society, as though he were in a desert. This may be one cause that Pittsburgh is not celebrated for its hospitality, another, (which is equally applicable to most new settled towns,) is that it is inhabited by people who have fixed here for the express purpose of making money. This employs the whole of their time and attention, when they are not occupied by politicks, and leaves them no leisure to devote to the duties of hospitality. Another cause, which one would scarcely suspect, is pride. Those who from the adventitious circumstance of having settled here at an early period, and purchased, or became possessed of landed property, when from its very low value, it was obtained in the most easy manner, for a mere trifle, now find themselves rich suddenly, from its rapid increase in value. Those who came after them, had not the same opportunities, and of course were not so fortunate. Wealth acquired suddenly, generally operates on the ignorant, to make them wish to seem as if they had always been in the same situation; and in affecting the manners and appearance of the great, they always overact their part, and assume airs of superiority {71} even over the really well born and well bred part of the community, who have been reduced from a more affluent situation, by misfortune, or who have not been so fortunate as themselves in acquiring what stands the possessor in lieu of descent, and all the virtues and accomplishments. This accounts for the pride which generally pervades the fortunate first settlers, but it is carried to such extravagant excess, that I have been credibly informed that some of the females of this class have styled themselves and their families the Well born, to distinguish them from those not quite so wealthy, forgetting that some among them could not tell who had been their ancestors in the second generation. This is all matter of ridicule and amusement to a person possessed of the least philosophy. There is also a very numerous class, which assumes a certain air of superiority throughout this whole country—I mean the lawyers. They (even their students and pupils) arrogate to themselves the title or epithet of esquire, which the uninformed mass of the people allow them; and as, by intrigue, they generally fill all the respectable offices in the government as well as the legislature, they assume to themselves a consequence to which they are in no other way entitled.

The profession of physick is also on a very respectable footing in this town. There being four established physicians.—Doctors Bedford, Richardson,[40] Stevenson, and Mowry,[41] all of considerable practice, experience, and reputation.[42]

I shall defer an account of the situation, history and present state of Pittsburgh, until I have finished {72} my tour to the westward, when I shall have obtained more information on so important a subject.

FOOTNOTES:

[27] Since the above was written the greater part of Wood street has been paved, Front and Third streets from Market to Wood, Diamond alley gravelled, and Chancery lane paved from the river to Second street, and preparations are making to pave others this season, 1810.—Cramer.

[28] General James O’Hara embarked in the Indian trade near Fort Pitt about 1773. On the outbreak of the Revolution, he enlisted in the ninth Virginia regiment, but was soon employed as quartermaster, also serving in that capacity in the Whiskey Insurrection (1793), and Wayne’s Campaign against the Indians (1794). His business talents and enterprise were employed in building up the new town of Pittsburg, where at its inception he had purchased much land. In 1797, he built the first glass manufactory west of the Alleghenies; about the same time he made arrangements to transport salt by water from Onondaga, New York, greatly cheapening the price of that necessity. In 1804, O’Hara was made director of the branch of the Bank of Pennsylvania established at Pittsburg; and on his death (1819) left a large estate to his heirs. General O’Hara was generous and patriotic as well as enterprising. He was a friend of Washington, and served as elector when the latter was chosen president in 1788.—Ed.

[29] Son of Mr. Benjamin Dearborn, of Boston, much celebrated for his mechanical and inventive genius.—Cramer.

[30] William Wilkins, at this time but a young lawyer, afterwards became distinguished in American political circles. He served as state and federal judge from 1820-28; three years later he was elected to the United States Senate; and in 1834, was sent by President Jackson as minister to Russia. Wilkins was in Congress again in 1842; and when Upshire and Gilmer were killed (1844), President Tyler appointed him Secretary of War.—Ed.

[31] James Ross was one of the most eminent of Pittsburg’s early lawyers. Born in 1761, he was admitted to the bar in 1791, and three years later chosen to fill out Gallatin’s term in the United States Senate, wherein by re-election he served until 1803. Ross was a staunch Federalist, and ran three times unsuccessfully upon that ticket for governor of Pennsylvania, twice (1799 and 1802) against McKean. Although a Federalist, he had sufficiently imbibed Western views to advocate, while a senator, the forcible seizure of New Orleans from the Spaniards. After retiring from politics (1803), he practiced law until his death in 1847, being considered the leader of the Pittsburg bar.—Ed.

[32] Since dead.—Cramer.

[33] Cuming has here given a summary of the noted members of the Pittsburg bar at the time of his visit. Steel Semple made a specialty of land cases, and had great influence with juries. Henry Baldwin was afterwards distinguished in politics, serving in Congress 1817-23; seven years later he was appointed to the supreme court of the United States, wherein he served until his death in 1846. Thomas Collins was an able and successful lawyer, with high social connections. For a sketch of Judge Addison, see Harris’s Journal, vol. iii of this series, p. 363, note 46.—Ed.

[34] Mr. Steele died March 22, 1810.—Cramer.

[35] Removed to near Fredericksburgh, Virginia. His place has been filled by the Rev. Mr. Hunt, who officiates to the second Presbyterian congregation.—Cramer.

[36] Removed to St. Louis, Louisiana.—Cramer.

[37] The Catholicks have lately erected a small but handsome brick church of one story at the north east end of Liberty street, the ground for which, I understand, was gratuitously presented to them by Gen. O’Hara. The inside work of the church is yet in an unfinished state.—Cramer.

[38] The Methodists are now engaged in collecting a voluntary subscription for either the building, or the purchase of a house for the use of their society.—Cramer.

[39] Our author was here at a time when politicks ran high the colouring he has given the rancour, in consequence, among the inhabitants, may be a little too deep. Be this as it may, party politicks, or at least, political rancour, has subsided, and the citizens generally, intermingle in social societies, and interchange the various offices of friendship and of trade without interruption, however they may differ in political sentiment, or be opposed to each other in the election of the various candidates to publick office. Conceiving, perhaps, that a moderate difference of political opinion, is a natural consequence of our political institutions, and a requisite to their existence in the purity in which they were at first established.—Cramer.

[40] Died, August 1809.—Cramer.

[41] Of these early Pittsburg physicians, Dr. Nathaniel Bedford came out as a surgeon in the British army, and located here in 1765; his colleague, Dr. Stevenson, arrived about the same time and later served as a Revolutionary soldier. Dr. Mowry entered the office of Bedford as an apprentice (1786), attended lectures under Dr. Rush at Philadelphia, and attained high rank in his profession.—Ed.

[42] There are three others established here lately, a German, a French, and an English physician, the latter of whom is of the Friends’ society, of the name of Pennington, considerably advanced in years. He came to this place in the fall of 1809, and is said to be skilful.—Cramer.

CHAPTER IX

Departure from Pittsburgh—The Allegheny, Monongahela, and Ohio rivers—Brunot’s island—unfortunate death of two gentlemen—Baldwin’s mill—Neville’s island—Middletown—Logstown—Beaver creek—Beaver town—Fort M’Intosh.

On the 18th July, 1807, accompanied by my intelligent and valuable friend A——, I departed from Pittsburgh, in a batteau, or flat bottomed skiff, twenty feet long, very light, and the stern sheets roofed with very thin boards, high enough to sit under with ease, and long enough to shelter us when extended on the benches for repose, should we be benighted occasionally on the river, with a side curtain of tow cloth as a screen from either the sun or the night air. We had a pair of short oars, or rather long paddles, for one person to work both, and a broad paddle to steer with; and a mast, and a lug or square sail to set when the wind should favour us; we had a good stock of cold provisions and liquors. The river being neither flooded, nor very low, was just in that state, to promise a pleasant passage to its navigators. The current running between two and three miles an hour, allowed time to examine every thing worthy of curiosity, and the water was sufficiently high to prevent delays through grounding on any of the numerous flats, which impede the navigation of the first two hundred miles, during the principal part of the summer and fall, and yet not so high as to prevent our being able to see and remark all the shoals or rocks of any consequence, which gave us an opportunity {73} of proving Mr. Cramer’s Navigator which we had with us, of correcting it in a few places, and of adding to it a sketch of the river, in its very winding course, between Pittsburgh and Limestone or Maysville, in Kentucky.[43]

In a quarter of an hour after embarking on the Monongahela we passed its confluence with the Allegheny, and entered the Ohio formed by the other two.