A PILGRIM ON THE PENNSYLVANIA ROAD
The following chapter is from Francis Baily's volume, _A Journal of a
Tour in Unsettled Parts of North America_. It is an account of a journey
in 1796 from Philadelphia to Pittsburg over the Pennsylvania road
treated of in Volume V of this series. Francis Baily was an English
scientist of very great reputation. It is to be doubted whether there is
another account of a journey as far west as Mr. Baily's record takes us
(Cincinnati, Ohio) written at so early a date by an equally famous
foreign scholar and scientist.
The route pursued was the old state road begun in 1785 running through
Pennsylvania from Chambersburg, Bedford, and Greensburg to Pittsburg.
Mr. Baily's itinerary is by ancient taverns, most of which have passed
from recollection.
From Pittsburg he went with a company of pioneers down the Ohio River
to their new settlement near Cincinnati. In his experiences with these
friends he gives us a vivid picture of pioneer travel north of the Ohio
River.
"There being no turnpikes in America, the roads are, of course, very bad
in winter, though excellent in summer. I waited at Baltimore near a week
before I could proceed on my journey, the roads being rendered
impassable. There is, at present, but one turnpike-road on the
continent, which is between Lancaster and Philadelphia,[20] a distance
of sixty-six miles, and is a masterpiece of its kind; it is paved with
stone the whole way, and overlaid with gravel, so that it is never
obstructed during the most severe season. This practice is going to be
adopted in other parts of that public-spirited state [Pennsylvania],
though none of the other states have yet come into the measure.
"From Baltimore to Philadelphia are ninety-eight miles; between which
places there is no want of conveyance, as there are three or four
stages run daily. In one of these I placed myself on the morning of
_March 3rd, 1796_. A description of them perhaps would be amusing. The
body of the carriage is closed in, about breast high; from the sides of
which are raised six or eight small perpendicular posts, which support a
covering--so that it is in fact a kind of open coach. From the top are
suspended leather curtains, which may be either drawn up in fine
weather, or let down in rainy or cold weather; and which button at the
bottom. The inside is fitted up with four seats, placed one before the
other; so that the whole of the passengers face the horses; each seat
will contain three passengers; and the driver sits on the foremost,
under the same cover with the rest of the company. The whole is
suspended on springs; and the way to get into it is _in front_, as if
you were getting into a covered cart. This mode of travelling, and which
is the only one used in America, is very pleasant as you enjoy the
country much more agreeably than when imprisoned in a close coach,
inhaling and exhaling the same air a thousand times over, like a cow
chewing the cud; but then it is not quite so desirable in disagreeable
weather.[21]
"We had not proceeded far on our journey before we began to encounter
some of those inconveniences to which every person who travels in this
country _in winter time_ is exposed. The roads, which in general were
very bad, would in some places be impassable, so that we were obliged to
get out and walk a considerable distance, and sometimes to 'put our
shoulders to the wheel;' and this in the most unpleasant weather, as
well as in the midst of mire and dirt. However, we did manage to get
twelve miles to breakfast; and after that, to a little place called
Bush, about thirteen miles farther, to dinner; and about nine o'clock at
night we came to _Havre de Grace_, about twelve miles further, to
supper; having walked nearly half the way up to our ancles in mud, in a
most inclement season. Havre de Grace is a pretty little place, most
delightfully situated on the banks of the Susquehannah river, which at
this place is about a quarter of a mile broad; it is about a couple of
miles above the mouth of the river, where it empties into the Chesapeak
Bay; a fine view of which you have from the town. An excellent tavern is
kept here by Mr. Barney ... and which is frequented by parties in the
shooting season, for the sake of the wild fowl with which the
Susquehannah so plentifully abounds; the canvass-back, a most delicious
bird, frequents this river.... Next morning we got ferried across the
river, and, breakfasting at the tavern on the other side, proceeded on
our journey, encountering the same difficulties we had done the
preceding day. About three miles from Barney's is a little place, called
Principio, situated in a highly romantic country, where there is a large
foundry for cannon and works for boring them, situated in a valley
surrounded by a heap of rocks; the wheels of the works are turned by a
stream of water running over some of these precipices. About three miles
from this is another delightful place, called Charleston; I mean with
respect to its _situation_; as to the town itself, it does not seem to
improve at all, at which I very much wonder, as it is most
advantageously situated at the head of the Chesapeak, of which and the
country adjoining it commands a full and most charming view. We got
about nine miles farther, to a town called Elkton, to dinner. This place
has nothing in it to attract the attention of travellers. I shall
therefore pass it by, to inform you that we intended getting to Newport,
about eighteen miles, to sleep. It was four o'clock before we started;
and we had not proceeded far on these miserable roads, ere night
overtook us; and, as the fates would have it, our unlucky coachman drove
us into a miry bog; and, in spite of all our endeavours, we could not
get the coach out again; we were therefore obliged to _leave it there,
with the whole of the baggage, all night_; and were driven to the
necessity of seeking our way in the dark to the nearest house, which
was about a mile and a half off; there, getting ourselves cleaned and a
good supper, we went to bed. Next morning we found everything just as we
left it; and, getting another coach, we proceeded on our journey, and,
dining at Chester, got to Philadelphia about nine o'clock in the
evening, completely tired of our ride, having been three days and three
nights on the road.
"I would not have been thus particular, but I wished to give you a
specimen of the American mode of travelling, though you will understand
that these difficulties are to be met with only at that season of the
year when the frost breaks up, and the roads get sadly out of order; for
in summer time nothing can be more agreeable, expeditious, and pleasant.
The fare from Baltimore to Philadelphia is 6 dollars, or 27s., and the
customary charges on the road are 1/2 dollar for breakfast, 1 dollar for
dinner, wine not included, 1/2 dollar for supper, and 1/4 dollar for
beds. These are their general prices, and they charge the same whatever
they provide for you. By this, you will observe that travelling in
these settled parts of the country is about as expensive as in England.
"The country between Baltimore and Philadelphia is of a _clayey_ nature,
mixed with a kind of gravel; yet still, in the hands of a skilful
farmer, capable of yielding good produce. The land on each side of the
road, and back into the country, was pretty well cultivated, and (though
winter) bore marks of industry and economy. Hedges are not frequent; but
instead of them they place split logs angular-wise on each other, making
what they call a "worm fence," and which is raised about five feet high.
This looks very slovenly, and, together with the stumps of trees
remaining in all the new-cleared plantations, is a great _desight_ to
the scenery of the country.... From Newark to New York is about nine
miles, and the greatest part of the road is over a large swamp, which
lies between and on each side of the Pasaik and Hackinsac rivers. Over
this swamp they have made a causeway, which trembles the whole way as
you go over it,[22] and shows how far the genius and industry of man
will triumph over natural impediments.
"To New York, which is ninety-six miles from Philadelphia, we were a day
and a half in coming. The roads were not so bad as when we came from
Baltimore. Our fare was 6 dollars, and the charges on the road the same
as between Baltimore and Philadelphia:--viz., 1/2 dollar breakfast, 1
dollar dinner, 1/2 dollar supper, and 1/4 dollar lodging.... The
inhabitants of New York are very fond of music, dancing, and plays; an
attainment to excellence in the former has been considerably promoted by
the frequent musical societies and concerts which are held in the city,
many of the inhabitants being very good performers. As to dancing, there
are two assembly-rooms in the city, which are pretty well frequented
during the winter season; private balls are likewise not uncommon. They
have two theatres, one of which is lately erected, and is capable of
containing a great number of persons; there is an excellent company of
comedians, who perform here in the winter. But the amusement of which
they seem most passionately fond is that of sleighing, which is riding
on the snow in what _you_ call _a sledge_, drawn by two horses. It is
astonishing to see how anxiously persons of all ages and both sexes look
out for a good fall of snow, that they may enjoy their favourite
amusement; and when the happy time comes, to see how eager they are to
engage every sleigh that is to be hired. Parties of twenty or thirty
will sometimes go out of town in these vehicles towards evening, about
six or eight miles, when, having sent for a fiddler, and danced till
they are tired, they will return home again by moonlight, or, perhaps
more often, by _day_ light. Whilst the snow is on the ground no other
carriages are made use of, either for pleasure or service. The
productions of the earth are brought to market in sleighs; merchandise
is draughted about in sleighs; coaches are laid by, and the ladies and
gentlemen mount the _silent_ car, and nothing is heard in the streets
but the tinkling[23] of bells.... I set off on the _1st_ of _September,
1796_, to make a tour of the western country,--that land of Paradise,
according to the flattering accounts given by Imlay and others. Wishing
to go to the new city of Washington, _we_[24] took our route through
Philadelphia and Baltimore, which I have already described. I shall not
trouble you with any further remarks, excepting that as the season was
just the reverse of what it was when I passed through this country last,
it presented quite a different appearance from what I described to you
in my former letters. Besides, there was none of that inconvenience from
bad roads, so terrible to a traveller in the winter. On the contrary, we
went on with a rapidity and safety equal to any mode of travelling in
England.
"From Baltimore to the new city of Washington is forty-five miles, where
we arrived on the _5th_ of _October_ following. The road is well
furnished with taverns, which in general are good, at least as good as
can be expected in this part of the world. Close to Washington is a
handsome town called Georgetown; in fact, it will form part of the new
city; for, being so near the site intended for it, and being laid out
nearly on the same plan, its streets will be only a prolongation of the
streets laid out for the city of Washington: so it will in course of
time lose its name of Georgetown, and adopt the general one of
Washington. Much in the same manner the small places formerly separated
from the metropolis of England have lost their name, and fallen under
the general denomination of London.
"Georgetown is situated on a hill close to the river Potomak; it
presents a beautiful view from the surrounding country, of which also it
commands a fine prospect. It is a seaport town, and some of their
vessels are employed in the London trade. There are stages run daily
between this place and Baltimore, for which you pay four dollars. There
are also stages to and from Alexandria, a handsome and flourishing town
situated on the Potomak, lower down the stream, and about eight miles
off; for which you pay a fare of three quarters of a dollar. We put up
at the Federal Arms whilst we were there. It is a good inn, but their
charges are most extravagantly high.... At about half-past one, _October
7th_, we started on our journey over the Allegany mountains to
Pittsburgh.[25] About fourteen miles on the road is a pretty little town
called Montgomery Court House;[26] it contains some good houses, but
the streets are narrow. About seven miles further is a little
settlement, formed a few years back by Captain Lingham, called
Middlebrook. Captain Lingham has a house on the road, near a mill, which
he has erected; and here (following the example of many of his brother
officers) he has retired from the toils and bustle of war, to spend his
days in the enjoyments of a country life. We arrived here about six
o'clock; the sun was just setting, yet there was time to go another
stage; but, as we got into a part of the country where _taverns_[27]
were not very frequent, we proposed stopping here this night.
Accordingly, putting our horses up at a little tavern, (which, together
with four or five more houses, composed the whole of the settlement,) we
had a comfortable supper and went to bed. About half-past six the next
morning we started from this place, and stopped, about seven miles on
the road, at an old woman's of the name of Roberts.[28] This old woman
(whose house, I believe, was the only one we saw on the road) acts at
times in the capacity of a tavern-keeper: that is, a person travelling
that way, and straitened for provisions, would most probably find
something there for himself and his horse. The old lady was but just up
when we called; her house had more the appearance of a hut than the
habitation of an hostess, and when we entered there was scarcely room to
turn round. We were loath to stop here; but there not being any other
house near, we were obliged to do it, both for the sake of ourselves and
our horses. We soon made her acquainted with our wants, and she,
gathering together a few sticks, (for her fire was not yet lighted,) and
getting a little meal and some water, mixed us up some cakes, which were
soon dressed at the fire, and then all sitting down at the table, and
having mixed some tea in a little pot, we enjoyed a very comfortable
breakfast. The poor old woman, who was a widow, seemed to live in a deal
of distress: the whole of her living was acquired by furnishing
accommodation to travellers. When we were sitting over the fire, and
partaking of our meal-cakes with this old woman, it brought to mind the
story of Elijah and the widow, (I Kings, chap, xvii.,) particularly
where she answers him with, 'As the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a
cake, but one handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse:
and, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it
for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die.' The appositeness of our
situations rendered this passage very striking, and made me look upon my
hostess in a more favourable point of view than when I first saw her. I
gave her something to render her situation more comfortable and happy.
"Leaving this lonely habitation, we continued on our journey, and
crossing the Sinecocy [Monocacy?] river, about eleven miles on the road,
we reached Fredericktown, about four miles farther, at twelve o'clock.
This is a large flourishing place, contains a number of good houses, and
is a place of great trade, owing to its being the thoroughfare to the
western country of Pennsylvania and the Ohio. There is a large
manufactory of rifle-guns carried on here; but so great is the demand
for them, that we could not meet with one in the whole place: they sell
in general from 15 to 25 dollars each, according to their style of being
mounted. The tavern where we stopped was kept by Mrs. Kemble: it is a
tolerably good house. After dinner we left this place, and after going
about three or four miles, we arrived at the foot of the Appalachian
Mountains. And here let me stop a little to make a few observations on
the face of the country we have just passed over. From Georgetown to
this place, it almost wholly consists of a sandy, gravelly soil, with
difficulty repaying the husbandman for the trouble of tilling it. The
face of the country is very uneven, being a constant succession of hill
and dale. Little towns or villages are scattered over the country at the
distance of seven or eight miles, which communicate with each other by
roads which are almost inaccessible during the winter and spring months.
Our charges on this part of the road were half a dollar each for
breakfast and dinner and supper, without any distinction of fare. If
our table were spread with all the profusion of American luxury, such as
ham, cold beef, fried chicken, &c. &c., (which are not uncommon for
breakfast in this part of the world), or whether we sat down to a dish
of tea and hoe-cake, our charge was all the same. The accommodations we
met with on the road were pretty well, considering the short time this
country has been settled, and the character and disposition of its
inhabitants, which are not those of the most polished nations, but a
character and disposition arising from a consciousness of independence,
accompanied by a spirit and manner highly characteristic of this
consciousness. It is not education alone that forms this character of
the Americans: it stands upon a firmer basis than this. The means of
subsistence being so easy in the country, and their dependence on each
other consequently so trifling, that spirit of servility to those above
them so prevalent in European manners, is wholly unknown to them; and
they pass their lives without any regard to the smiles or the frowns of
men in power.
"Nearly the whole of the way from Georgetown to Fredericktown we
preserved a distant view of the Allegany Mountains, at whose feet we
were now arrived. They presented to us one general bluff appearance,
extending as far as our eye could see from the north-east to the
south-west. Our approach to them was in a line perpendicular to that of
their extension, so that they seemed to bid defiance to our progress.
The _Allegany Mountains_ is a name given to a range of several ridges of
mountains stretching from Vermont to Carolina, of which one ridge alone
is properly called the Allegany Mountain. These ridges are nearly 170
miles in width; and the middle one, or the Allegany, forms the backbone
of the rest. The ridge which first presented itself to our view, is
called in Howell's Map the South Mountain. The road (which here began to
be very rocky and stony) is carried over the least elevated part of the
mountain, and from its summit we beheld that beautiful limestone valley
so recommended by Brissot. On our descent from this mountain, we entered
on one of the finest tracts of land in all America. The celebrated
valley, which lies between this and the next ridge of mountains, extends
from the Susquehanna on the north to Winchester on the south, is richly
watered by several navigable streams, and is capable of producing every
article which is raised in the neighbouring countries in the greatest
abundance. It is inhabited chiefly by Germans and Dutch, who are an
industrious race of men and excellent farmers. Their exertions have made
this valley (bounded on each side by barren and inhospitable mountains)
assume the appearance of a highly cultivated country, abounding in all
the conveniences and some of the luxuries of life. Besides a general
appearance of comfortable farms scattered over the face of the country,
it can boast of several large and populous towns, which keep up a
connexion with the cities on the Atlantic, and supply the interior of
this mountainous country with the produce of distant nations. It was
dark before we descended from this mountain; but we had not proceeded
far in the valley when we came to a little place called Boone's-town,
where we were glad to rest ourselves and horses after the fatigues of
so rough a road. Boone's-town is eight miles from Fredericktown: it has
not been settled above three or four years. We met with a very good
tavern and excellent accommodations.
"From Boone's-town, the next morning (_Sunday, October 9th, 1796_) we
passed through Funk's-town, which is another new-settled place; and
immediately on leaving this, Hagar's-town presented itself to our view,
about two miles off: here we arrived to breakfast. Hagar's-town[29] is a
large flourishing place, and contains some good houses. The streets are
narrow, and, agreeably to a barbarous custom which they have in laying
out new towns in America, the court-house is built in the _middle_ of
the principal street, which is a great obstruction to the passage, as
well as being of an uncouth appearance. This place is situated on a fine
plain, and, like Frederick's-town, is a place of great trade, and also a
manufactory for rifle-guns, of which we bought two at twenty dollars
each. Here is a paper published weekly; and assemblies are held here
during the winter. There is also a great deal of horse-racing in the
neighbourhood at stated seasons. We put up at the Indian Queen, kept by
Ragan: it is a good house and much frequented.
"From Hagar's-town we proceeded on to Greencastle, which is a poor
little place, but lately settled, and consisting of a few log-houses
built along the road. We stopped at one of these houses, which they
called the tavern, kept by one Lawrence; it was a poor miserable place.
We were obliged to unsaddle our horses, put them into the stable, and
feed them ourselves; and then, having got something to eat and refreshed
ourselves, we got out of this place as soon as we could. Greencastle is
eleven miles from Hagar's-town; and we had to go eleven miles farther
that evening to Mr. Lindsay's, whom we had engaged at Baltimore to carry
some goods to Pittsburgh in his waggons. His house lay at some distance
from the road we were going, so that we struck across the woods to
approach it; and, after having missed our way once or twice, we struck
on a road which took us down to his house. Here we were hospitably
entertained for two days by Mr. Lindsay and his father-in-law, Mr.
Andrews, who have a very excellent farm, and live very comfortably in
the truly American style. The place at which he resides is called the
_Falling Springs_; for what reason they are called _falling_ springs I
cannot conceive; they _rise_ from under an old tree, and the stream does
not proceed three hundred yards before it turns a cyder-mill; and a
little farther on turns a grist-mill. These mills belong to Mr. Andrews,
as also does a large quantity of the land around; for in this country
_all_ the farmers are landholders; Mr. and Mrs. Andrews are Irish; and
they and their family are all settled in the neighbourhood. Their
children are all brought up in industry, and have their time fully
employed in performing the different necessary duties of the house and
farm. Nevertheless, they appear to live very happy and comfortable.
"_Tuesday, October 11th, 1796._--About eleven o'clock this morning we
set off from Mr. Andrews's, in company with a party of several of the
neighbouring farmers who were going to Chambersburgh to vote at an
election. Chambersburgh is about three miles from Mr. Andrews's, and is
a large and flourishing place, not inferior to Frederick's-town or
Hagar's-town; being, like them, on the high road to the western country,
it enjoys all the advantages which arise from such a continual body of
people as are perpetually emigrating thither. I have seen ten and twenty
waggons at a time in one of these towns, on their way to Pittsburgh and
other parts of the Ohio, from thence to descend down that river to
Kentucky. These waggons are loaded with the clothes and necessaries of a
number of poor emigrants, who follow on foot with their wives and
families, who are sometimes indulged with a ride when they are tired, or
in bad weather. In this manner they will travel and take up their abode
in the woods on the side of the road, like the gypsies in our country,
taking their provisions with them, which they dress on the road's side,
as occasion requires.
"About thirteen miles from Chambersburgh, which we left in the
afternoon, is a place called the _Mill_,[30] which is kept by some
Dutchmen. We understood it was a tavern, but were disappointed; however,
as it was now dark, and no tavern on the road for some distance, we were
under the necessity of begging a lodging here, which was granted us at
last with the greatest reluctance. Here we had rather an unfavourable
specimen of Dutch manners. We were _kindly_ directed to take our horses
to the stables, and take care of them ourselves, which we accordingly
did; and, returning to the house, I was witness to a kind of meal I had
never before experienced. First of all, some sour milk was warmed up and
placed on the table. This at any other time would probably have made us
sick; but having fasted nearly the whole day, and seeing no appearance
of anything else likely to succeed it, we devoured it very soon;
particularly as the whole family (of which there were seven or eight)
partook of it likewise; all of us sitting round _one_ large bowl, and
dipping our spoons in one after another. When this was finished a dish
of stewed pork was served up, accompanied with some hot pickled cabbage,
called in this part of the country "warm slaw." This was devoured in
the same hoggish manner, every one trying to help himself first, and two
or three eating off the same plate, and all in the midst of filth and
dirt. After this was removed a large bowl of cold milk and bread was put
on the table, which we partook of in the same manner as the first dish,
and in the same disorder. The spoons were immediately taken out of the
greasy pork dish, and (having been just cleaned by passing through the
_mouth_) were put into the milk; and that, with all the _sang froid_
necessarily attending such habitual nastiness. Our _table_, which was
none of the cleanest (for as to _cloth_, they had none in the house),
was placed in the middle of the room, which appeared to me to be the
receptacle of all the filth and rubbish in the house; and a fine large
fire, which blazed at one end, served us instead of a candle.
"Wishing to go to bed as soon as possible (though, by the by, we did not
expect that our accommodations would be any of the most agreeable), we
requested to be shown to our room, when, lo! we were ushered up a
ladder, into a dirty place, where a little hole in the wall served for
a window, and where there were four or five beds as dirty as need be.
These beds did not consist (as most beds do) of blankets, sheets, &c.,
but were truly in the Dutch style, being literally nothing more than one
feather bed placed on another, between which we were to creep and lie
down. The man, after showing us this our place of destination, took the
candle away, and left us to get in how we could, which we found some
difficulty in doing at first; however, after having accomplished it, we
slept very soundly till morning, when we found we had passed the night
amongst the whole family, men, women, and children, who had occupied the
other beds, and who had come up after we had been asleep. We got up
early in the morning from this inhospitable and filthy place, and,
saddling our horses, pursued our journey.
[Illustration: WIDOW MCMURRAN'S TAVERN, SCRUB RIDGE, PENNSYLVANIA ROAD]
"_October 12th, 1796._--At ten o'clock we arrived at McConnell's-town,
in Cove Valley (thirteen miles), having first passed over a high ridge
called, in Howell's Map, the North Mountain; and here we left that
beautiful valley, which is enriched by so many streams, and abounds
with such a profusion of the conveniences of life; a country than which,
if we except Kentucky, is not to be found a more fertile one in the
whole of the United States.
"On our descent from the North Mountain we caught, through every opening
of the woods, the distant view of McConnell's, whose white houses,
contrasted with the _sea_ of woods by which it was surrounded, appeared
like an island in the ocean. Our near approach to it, however, rendered
it not quite so pleasing an object; for it consisted but of a few
log-houses, built after the American manner, without any other ornament
than that of being whitened on the _outside_. There was a pretty good
tavern kept here by a Dutchwoman, where we stopped to breakfast; and,
leaving this place, we crossed a hill called Scrubheath, at the end of
which was Whyle's tavern (ten miles): we did not stop, but went to the
top of Sideling Hill (two miles), where there is a tavern kept by
Skinner, where we dined. Sideling Hill is so called from the road being
carried over this ridge, _on the side of the hill_, the whole way; it is
very steep in ascent, and towards the top appears very tremendous on
looking down.
"From this tavern to the Junietta, a branch of the Susquehannah river,
is eight miles. The hill terminates at the river, and the road down to
it is a narrow winding path, apparently cleft out of the mountain. It so
happened that when we came to this defile, a travelling man with a
number of packhorses had just entered it before us; and as it was
impossible for us to pass them, we were obliged to follow them down this
long winding passage to the river, at their own pace, which, poor
animals, was none of the speediest. The sun, though not set, had been
long hid from us by the neighbouring mountains, and would not lend us
one ray to light us on our melancholy path. We fell into conversation
with our fellow-traveller, and found that he had been to Philadelphia,
where he had purchased a number of articles necessary to those who live
in this part of the country, and which he was going to dispose of in the
best manner possible. The gloominess of our path, and the temper of mind
I happened to be then in, threw me into reflections on a comparison of
this man's state with my own. At length a distant light broke me from my
reverie, and indicated to us a near prospect of our enlargement from
this obscure path; and the first thing that presented itself to our view
was the Junietta river, which, flowing with a gentle stream between two
very steep hills, covered with trees to the very top, the sun just
shining, and enlightening the opposite side, though hid to us, presented
one of the most enchanting and romantic scenes I ever experienced. From
this place to Hartley's Tavern is eight miles, and this we had to go
before night. It was sunset before we had reached the summit of the
opposite hill of the river. From this hill we beheld ourselves in the
midst of a mountainous and woody country; the Junietta winding and
flowing on each side of us at the foot of the hill; the distant
mountains appearing in all the _wildness of majesty_, and extending
below the horizon. The moon had just begun to spread her silver light;
and by her assistance we were enabled to reach our destined _port_. The
road, which was carried along the side of a tremendously high hill,
seemed to threaten us with instant death, if our horses should make a
false step. Embosomed in woods, on a lonely path, we travelled by the
kind light of the moon till near eight o'clock, when we reached our
place of destination. It was a very comfortable house, kept by one
Hartley, an Englishman, and situated in a gap of the mountains, called
in this part of the country Warrior's Gap, and which affords an outlet
or passage for the Junietta river, which here is a fine gentle stream.
The country just about here was very mountainous; yet our landlord had
got a very pleasant spot cleared and cultivated, and which furnished him
with the principal necessaries of life. Finding this an agreeable place,
we stopped here three days, and went up into the mountains to shoot;
but, being very young hands at this diversion, we were always
unsuccessful.
"On _Saturday, October 15th_, we set off from Hartley's about eleven
o'clock, and proceeded to Redford (six miles), which is a pleasant
place, and agreeably situated, and contains a great many houses. The
town is supplied with water from the neighbouring hills; conveyed in
pipes to each house, and to a public place in the middle of the town. We
left this place about half-past twelve, and proceeded to Ryan's tavern,
at the foot of the Allegany mountain (eleven miles). Here we dined; and
after dinner, we proceeded up the mountain, the top of which we reached
about five o'clock; and here I was surprised to find a number of little
streams of water flowing through some as fine land as is to be met with
in the United States, and abounding with fish. This appearance upon the
top of so high a mountain is not a little remarkable; but I have since
found it to be the case in other ridges of mountains which I have passed
over. We intended to have gone on to Webster's this evening, but the
weather proving so bad, we called at a little house on the road, in
order to stop during the night. But we were informed that they could not
accommodate us; however, they directed us to a person about a mile off,
where they thought we could get accommodated; accordingly, striking
across the woods, we proceeded to this house, and, after some little
trouble, and in a very tempestuous night, we found it out, and here
took up our abode for the night. Our landlord's name was Statler, and
his residence is about eight miles from Ryan's. Here we found a very
comfortable habitation, and very good accommodation; and though situated
at the top of the highest ridge of mountains, we experienced not only
the comforts, but also some of the luxuries of life. From the stone
which forms the base of this mountain they make mill-stones, which are
sent to all parts of the country, and sell from fifteen to twenty and
thirty dollars a pair. Land sells on these mountains for two dollars an
acre. We found this so comfortable a place, that we stopped here to
breakfast the next morning (_October 16th_), and then we proceeded to
Webster's, at a place called Stoystown (nine miles), where there is a
good tavern, and where we stopped to bait our horses. About a mile
before we came to Webster's we passed over Stoney Creek, which has a
great many different branches, and rather large, but most of them were
dry, owing partly to the season, and partly to their lying so very
high. About nine miles further we stopped at Murphy's, where we baited
our horses; but the habitation was so uncomfortable, and their
accommodations so miserable, that we could get nothing for ourselves; we
were therefore obliged to defer till the evening taking any refreshment.
On leaving this place we crossed Laurel Hill, which is near nine miles
long, and which is the highest ridge of the Apalachian mountains: it is
rather a ridge upon a ridge, than a mountain by itself, as it rises upon
the Allegany ridge. The perpendicular height of this ridge is 4,200
feet; and in crossing it we were not a little incommoded by the cold
winds and rain which generally infest the summit. This, together with
the badness of the roads (being nothing but large loose stones), made it
one of the most unpleasant rides I ever experienced. It was near dark
before we descended this mountain; and we had then to go three miles to
a poor miserable hut, where we were obliged to spend the night amidst
the whole family and some other travellers, all scattered about in the
same room.
"About half-past six the next morning (_October 17th, 1796_) we set out
from King's, and crossing Chestnut ridge, we arrived at Letty Bean's to
breakfast (seven and a half miles). After crossing Chestnut ridge we
took our leave of the Apalachian mountains, having passed 170 miles over
them, from the Blue ridge to Chestnut ridge. These mountains are for the
most part very stony and rocky, yet have a great quantity of fine land
on them, even on their very summits. The roads which are carried over
them are much better than I expected; and if from the tops of them you
can (through an opening of the trees) gain a view of the surrounding
country, it appears like a sea of woods; and all those hills which
appeared very high in our passing over them, are lost in one wide plane,
extending as far as the eye can reach, at least fifty or sixty miles,
presenting a view not only novel, but also highly majestic. At other
times, when you get between the declivities of the mountains, they
appear in all the wildness of nature, forming the most romantic scenery
the imagination can picture. It is not to be supposed, that immediately
on leaving the Apalachian mountains the country subsides into a smooth
level; on the contrary, for several miles, both on the eastern and
western side, the country is very hilly, not to say sometimes
mountainous; and it is said that the western side of the mountains is
300 feet above the level of the eastern side.
"From the foot of the mountains to Pittsburgh is about forty miles, and
here we arrived to dinner on the _18th October_, having gone, during our
route, about 297 miles from Philadelphia. The accommodations we met with
were, upon the whole, tolerably good; at least, such as a person
(considering the country he was travelling in) might bear with: charges
rather high. It cost us, together with our horses, two dollars a day
each. The common charges on the eastern side of the mountains were:--For
breakfast, dinner, and supper, 1/2 dollar each; oats, 12 cents. per
gallon. On the western side, dinner and supper were charged sometimes
2s., sometimes 2s. 6d., and breakfasts, 18d., (Pennsylvania currency).
For breakfast we generally used to have coffee, and buck-wheat cakes,
and some fried venison or broiled chicken, meat being inseparable from
an American breakfast; and whatever travellers happened to stop at the
same place, sat down at the same table, and partook of the same dishes,
whether they were poor, or whether they were rich; no distinction of
persons being made in this part of the country....
"The waggons which come over the Allegany mountains from the Atlantic
states, (bringing dry goods and foreign manufactures for the use of the
back-country men,) return from this place generally empty; though
sometimes they are laden with deer and bear skins and beaver furs, which
are brought in by the hunters, and sometimes by the Indians, and
exchanged at the stores for such articles as they may stand in need of."
Passing down the Ohio River Mr. Baily proceeded with a pioneer party the
leader of which, Mr. Heighway, was about to found a town on the banks of
the Little Miami River in Ohio. Leaving the river at the newly located
village of Columbia, Ohio, the party pushed on northward. Mr. Baily
accompanied them out of curiosity, and his record is of utmost interest.
"_Saturday, March 4th, 1797_,--the two waggons started, accompanied with
a guide to conduct them through the wilderness, and three or four
pioneers to clear the road of trees where there might be occasion; and
on
"_Monday, March 6th_,--Dr. Bean and myself started about noon,
accompanied by several others in the neighbourhood; some of whom were
tempted by curiosity, and others with a prospect of settling there. We
were mounted on horses, and had each a gun; and across our saddles we
had slung a large bag, containing some corn for our horses, and
provision for ourselves, as also our blankets: the former was necessary,
as the grass had not yet made its appearance in the woods. We kept the
road as long as we could; and when that would not assist us any farther,
we struck out into the woods; and towards sundown found ourselves about
twenty miles from Columbia. Here, having spied a little brook running at
the bottom of a hill, we made a halt, and kindling a fire, we fixed up
our blankets into the form of a tent, and having fed both ourselves and
our horses, we laid ourselves down to rest; one of us, by turns, keeping
watch, lest the Indians should come and steal our horses. The next
morning,--
"_Tuesday, March 7th_,--as soon as it was light, we continued our
journey, and towards the middle of the day overtook our friend H.,[31]
almost worn out with fatigue. The ground was so moist and swampy, and he
had been obliged to come through such almost impassable ways, that it
was with difficulty the horses could proceed; they were almost knocked
up; his waggons had been over-turned twice or thrice;--in fact, he
related to us such a dismal story of the trials both of patience and of
mind which he had undergone, and I verily believe if the distance had
been much greater, he would either have sunk under it, or have formed
his settlement on the spot. We encouraged him with the prospect of a
speedy termination, and the hopes of better ground to pass over; and
with this his spirits seemed to be somewhat raised. We all encamped
together this night, and made ourselves as happy and as comfortable as
possible. My friend H. seemed also to put on the new man; and from this,
and from his being naturally of a lively turn, we found that it was a
great deal the want of society which had rendered him so desponding, and
so out of spirits; for after we had cooked what little refreshment we
had brought with us, and finished our repast, he sang us two or three
good songs, (which he was capable of doing in a masterly style,) and
seemed to take a pleasure in delaying as long as he could that time
which we ought to have devoted to rest. As to my own part, I regarded
the whole enterprise in a more philosophic point of view; and I may say
with the Spectator, I considered myself as a silent observer of all that
passed before me; and could not but fancy that I saw in this little
society before me the counterpart of the primitive ages, when men used
to wander about in the woods with all their substance, in the manner
that the present race of Tartars do at this day. I could not but think
that I saw in miniature the peregrinations of Abraham, or Æneas, &c.,
&c.
"The next morning, _Wednesday, March 8th_, by day-light, our cavalcade
was in motion; and some of the party rode on first to discover the spot,
for we were travelling without any other guide than what little
knowledge of the country the men had acquired by hunting over it. I
could not but with pleasure behold with what expedition the pioneers in
front cleared the way for the waggon; there were but three or four of
them, and they got the road clear as fast as the waggon could proceed.
Whilst we were continuing on at this rate, we observed at some distance
before us, a human being dart into the woods, and endeavour to flee from
us. Ignorant what this might mean, we delayed the waggons, and some of
us went into the woods and tracked the footsteps of a man for some
little distance, when suddenly a negro made his appearance from behind
some bushes, and hastily inquired whether there were any Indians in our
party, or whether we had met with any. The hideousness of the man's
countenance, (which was painted with large red spots upon a black
ground,) and his sudden appearance, startled us at first; but soon
guessing his situation, we put him beyond all apprehension, and informed
him he was perfectly safe. He then began to inform us that he had been a
prisoner among the Indians ever since the close of the last American
war; and that he had meditated his escape ever since he had been in
their hands, but that never, till now, had he been able to accomplish
it....
"We could not but look upon the man with an eye of pity and compassion,
and after giving him something to pursue his journey with, and desiring
him to follow our track to Columbia, we separated. At about three or
four o'clock the same afternoon, we had the satisfaction of seeing the
Little Miami river. Here we halted, (for it was on the banks of this
river that the town was laid out,) and we were soon joined by our other
companions, who had proceeded on first, and who informed us that they
had recognized the spot about half a mile higher up the river. We
accordingly went on, and got the goods all out of the waggons that
night, so that they might return again as soon as they thought proper.
And here we could not but congratulate our friend H. upon his arrival at
the seat of his new colony."