miles farther up. This gentleman, with whom I entered into
conversation, and who appeared to me to enjoy a comfortable existence,
gave me strong invitations to pass a week with him at his house; and
as he supposed that I was in quest of a spot to form a settlement,
which is usually the intention of those who go to Kentucky, he offered
{138} his services to shew me a healthy soil, wishing very much, he
said, to have an inhabitant of the old country for a neighbour. It has
often happened to me, in this state as well as in that of Tennessea,
to refuse similar propositions by strangers whom I met at the inns or
at the houses where I asked a lodging, and who invited me, after that,
to spend a few days in their family.
About a mile from Kentucky I left the Danville road, and took that of
Harrod’s Burgh,[44] to go to General Adair,[45] to whom Dr. Ramsey
of Charleston had given me a letter of recommendation. I arrived at
his house the same day. I crossed Dick’s River, which is not half so
broad as the Kentucky, but is extremely pleasant at this season of the
year. Its bed is uniformly hollowed out by nature, and seems cased
with stone. Part of the right bank, opposite to the place where they
land, discovers a beautiful rock of a chalky substance, more than two
hundred and fifty feet in height. The stratum forms one continued
mass, which does not present the smallest interval, and which is only
distinguished by zones and parallels of a bluish cast, the colour of
which contrasts with the whiteness of the towering pile. On leaving
its summit, numerous furrows, hollowed {139} in the rock, very near
together, and which seem to run _ad infinitum_, are seen at different
heights. These furrows have visibly been formed by the current of the
river, which at distant epochs had its bed at these various levels.
Dick’s River, like the Kentucky, experiences, in the spring, an
extraordinary increase of water. The stratum of vegetable earth which
covers the rock does not appear to be more than two or three feet
thick. Virginia cedars are very common there. This tree, which is fond
of lofty places where the chalky substance is very near to the
superficies of the soil, thrives very well; but other trees, such as
the black oak, the hickery, &c. are stinted, and assume a miserable
appearance.
General Adair was absent when I arrived at his plantation. His lady
received me in the most obliging manner, and for five or six days that
I staid with her I received every mark of attention and hospitality,
as though I had been intimately acquainted with the family.
A spacious and commodious house, a number of black servants,
equipages, every thing announced the opulence of the General, which it
is well known is not always, in America, the appendage of those
honoured with that title. His plantation is situated {140} near
Harrodsburgh in the county of Mercer. Magnificent peach orchards,
immense fields of Indian wheat, surround the house. The soil there is
extremely fertile, which shews itself by the largeness of the blades
of corn, their extraordinary height, and the abundance of the crops,
that yield annually thirty or forty hundred weight of corn per acre.
The mass of the surrounding forests is composed of those species of
trees that are found in the better sort of land, such as the _gleditia
acanthus_, _guilandina dioica_, _ulmus viscosa_, _morus-rubra_,
_corylus_, _annona triloba_. In short, for several miles round the
surface of the ground is flat, which is very rare in that country.
As I could not defer my travels any longer, I did not accept of Mrs.
Adair’s invitation, who entreated me to stay till her husband’s
return; and on the 20th of August I set out in order to continue my
route toward Nasheville, very much regretting not having had it in my
power to form an acquaintance with the General.
My first day’s journey was upward of twenty miles, and in the evening
I put up at the house of one Hays, who keeps a kind of inn about fifty
miles from Lexinton. Harrodsburgh, which I passed {141} through that
day, at present consists only of about twenty houses, irregularly
scattered, and built of wood. Twelve miles farther I regained, at
Chaplain Fork, the road to Danville. In this space, which is
uninhabited, the soil is excellent, but very unequal.
The second day I went nearly thirty miles, and stopped at an inn kept
by a person of the name of Skeggs. Ten miles on this side is
Mulder-Hill, a steep and lofty mountain that forms a kind of
amphitheatre. From its summit the neighbouring country presents the
aspect of an immense valley, covered with forests of an imperceptible
extent, whence, as far as the eye can reach, nothing but a gloomy
verdant space is seen, formed by the tops of the close-connected
trees, and through which not the vestige of a plantation can be
discerned. The profound silence that reigns in these woods,
uninhabited by wild beasts, and the security of the place, forms an
_ensemble_ rarely to be met with in other countries. At the summit of
Mulder-Hill the road divides, to unite again a few miles farther on. I
took the left, and the first plantation that I reached was that of Mr.
Macmahon, formerly professor of a college in Virginia, who came very
lately to reside in this part of the country, where he officiates as a
clergyman.
{142} Skeggs’s inn, where I stopped after having left Mulder-Hill, was
the worst station that I took from Limestone to Nasheville. It was
destitute of every kind of provision, and I was obliged to sleep on
the floor, wrapped up in my rug, without having been able to procure a
supper. As there was no stable in this plantation, I turned my horse
into a peach orchard for pasture. The fences that inclosed it were
broken down, and fearing he would escape in the night, I put a bell on
his neck, such as travellers carry with them when compelled to sleep
in the woods. The peaches at that time were in full perfection, and I
perceived that my horse had been feeding on them, from the immense
quantity of kernels lying under three or four trees. This was very
easy for him, as the branches, loaded with fruit, hung nearly to the
ground.
About eight miles hence I forded Green River, which flows into the
Ohio, after innumerable windings, and runs through a narrow valley not
more than a mile in breadth. At the place where I crossed it it had
not three [feet?] of water in an extent from fifteen to twenty fathoms
broad; but in the spring, the only epoch when it is navigable, the
water rises about eighteen feet, as may be judged by the roots of the
{143} trees that adorn its banks, and which are stripped naked by the
current. Beyond the river we regain the road, which for the space of
two miles serpentines in that part of the valley which is on the left
bank. The soil of these shallows is marshy and very fruitful, where
the beech tree, among others, flourishes in great perfection. Its
diameter is usually in proportion to its height, and its massy trunk
sometimes rises twenty-five or thirty feet from the earth divested of
a single branch. The soil occupied by these trees is considered by the
inhabitants as the most difficult to clear.
{144} CHAP. XVI
_Passage over the Barrens, or Meadows.--Plantations upon the
Road.--The View they present.--Plants discovered there.--
Arrival at Nasheville._
About ten miles from Green River flows the Little Barren, a small
river, from thirty to forty feet in breadth; the ground in the
environs is dry and barren, and produces nothing but a few Virginia
cedars, two-leaved pines, and black oaks. A little beyond this
commence the Barrens, or Kentucky Meadows. I went the first day
thirteen miles across these meadows, and put up at the house of Mr.
Williamson, near Bears-Wallow.
In the morning, before I left the place, I wanted to give my horse
some water, upon which my host directed me to a spring about a quarter
of a mile from the house, where his family was supplied; I wandered
{145} about for the space of two hours in search of this, when I
discovered a plantation in a low and narrow valley, where I learnt
that I had mistaken the path, and was obliged to return to the place
from whence I came. The mistress of the house told me that she had
resided in the Barrens upwards of three years, and that for eighteen
months prior to my going there she had not seen an individual; that,
weary of living thus isolated, her husband had been more than two
months from home in quest of another spot, towards the mouth of the
Ohio. Such was the pretence for this removal, which made the third
since the family left Virginia. A daughter about fourteen years of
age, and two children considerably younger, were all the company she
had; her house, on the other hand, was stocked abundantly with
vegetables and corn.
This part of the Barrens that chance occasioned me to stroll over, was
precisely similar to that I had traversed the day before. I found a
spring in a cavity of an orbicular form, where it took me upwards of
an hour to get half a pail of water for my horse. The time that I had
thus employed, that which I had lost in wandering about, added to the
intense heat, obliged {146} me to shorten my route: in consequence of
which I put up at Dripping Spring, about ten miles from Bears-Wallow.
On the following day, the 26th, I went twenty-eight miles, and stopped
at the house of Mr. Jacob Kesly, belonging to the Dunker sect, which I
discovered by his long beard. About ten miles from Dripping Spring I
forded Big-Barren River, which appeared to me one third broader than
Green River, the plantation of one Macfiddit, who plies a ferry-boat
when the waters are high; and another, belonging to one Chapman. About
three miles farther are the two oldest settlements on the road, both
of them having been built upwards of fourteen years. When I was at
this place, a boat laden with salt arrived from St. Genevieve, a
French village situated upon the right bank of the Mississippi, about
a hundred miles beyond the mouth of the Ohio.
My landlord’s house was as miserably furnished as those I had lodged
at for several days preceding, and I was again obliged to sleep on the
floor. The major part of the inhabitants of Kentucky have been there
too short a time to make any great improvements; they have a very
indifferent supply of any thing except Indian corn and forage.
{147} On the 27th of August I set off very early in the morning; and
about thirteen miles from Mr. Kesley’s I crossed the line that
separates the State of Tennessea from that of Kentucky. There also
terminates the Barrens; and to my great satisfaction I got into the
woods.[46] Nothing can be more tiresome than the doleful uniformity
of these immense meadows where there is nobody to be met with; and
where, except a great number of partridges, we neither see nor hear
any species of living beings, and are still more isolated than in the
middle of the forests.
The first plantation that I reached on entering Tennessea belonged to
a person of the name of Checks, of whom I entertained a very
indifferent opinion, by the conversation that he was holding with
seven or eight of his neighbours, with whom he was drinking whiskey.
Fearing lest I should witness some murdering scene or other, which
among the inhabitants of this part of the country is frequently the
end of intoxication, produced by this kind of spirits, I quickly took
my leave, and put up at an inn about three miles farther off, where I
found every accommodation. The late Duke of Orleans’ son lodged at
this house a few years before.[47] On the {148} day following I
arrived at Nasheville, after having travelled twenty-seven miles.
The Barrens, or Kentucky Meadows, comprise an extent from sixty to
seventy miles in length, by sixty miles in breadth. According to the
signification of this word, I conceived I should have had to cross
over a naked space, sown here and there with a few plants. I was
confirmed in my opinion by that which some of the country people had
given me of these meadows before I reached them. They told me that in
this season I should perish with heat and thirst, and that I should
not find the least shade the whole of the way, as the major part of
the Americans who live in the woods have not the least idea that there
is any part of the country entirely open, and still less that they
could inhabit it. Instead of finding a country as it had been depicted
to me, I was agreeably surprised to see a beautiful meadow, where the
grass was from two to three feet high. Amidst these pasture lands I
discovered a great variety of plants, among which were the _gerardia
flava_, or gall of the earth; the _gnaphalium dioicum_, or white
plantain; and the _rudbekia purpurea_. I observed that the roots of
the latter plant participated in some degree with the sharp taste of
the leaves of the _spilanthus {149} oleracca_. When I crossed these
meadows the flower season was over with three parts of the plants, but
the time for most of the seeds to ripen was still at a great distance;
nevertheless I gathered about ninety different species of them which I
took with me to France.
In some parts of the meadows we observed several species of the wild
vine, and in particular that called by the inhabitants _summer
grapes_, the bunches are as large, and the grapes of as good a quality
as those in the vineyards round Paris, with this difference, that the
berries are not quite so close together.
It seems to me that the attempts which have been made in Kentucky to
establish the culture of the vine would have been more successful in
the Barrens, the soil of which appears to me more adapted for this
kind of culture than that on the banks of the Kentucky; the latter is
richer it is true, at the same time the nature of the country, and the
proximity of the forests render it much damper. This was also my
father’s opinion; he thought that [of] the different parts of North
America that he had travelled through, during a sojourn of twelve
years, the States of Kentucky and Tennessea, and particularly the
Barrens, were the parts in which the vine might {150} be cultivated
with the greatest success. His opinion was founded in a great measure
upon the certainty that the vegetable stratum in the above states lies
upon a chalky mass.
The Barrens are circumscribed by a wood about three miles broad, which
in some parts joins to surrounding forests. The trees are in general
very straggling, and at a greater distance from each other as they
approach the meadows. On the side of Tennessea this border is
exclusively composed of post oaks, or _quercus oblusiloba_, the wood
of which being very hard, and not liable to rot, is, in preference to
any other, used for fences. This serviceable tree would be easy to
naturalize in France, as it grows among the pines in the worst of
soil. We observed again, here and there, in the meadow, several black
oaks, or _quercus nigra_; and nut trees, or _juglans hickery_, which
rise about twelve or fifteen feet. Sometimes they formed small
arbours, but always far enough apart from each other so as not to
intercept the surrounding view. With the exception of small willows,
about two feet high, _selix longirostris_, and a few _shumacs_, there
is not the least appearance of a shrub. The surface of these meadows
is generally very even; towards Dripping Spring I observed {151} a
lofty eminence, slightly adorned with trees, and bestrewed with
enormous rocks, which hang jutting over the main road.
It appears there are a great number of subterraneous caverns in the
Barrens, some of which are very near the surface. A short time before
I was there, several pieces of the rocks that were decayed, fell with
a tremendous crash into the road near Bears-Wallow, as a traveller was
passing, who, by the greatest miracle escaped. We may easily conceive
with what consequences such accidents must be attended in a country
where the plantations are so distant from each other, and where,
perhaps, a traveller does not pass for several days.
We remarked in these meadows several holes, widened at the top in the
shape of funnels, the breadth of which varies according to their
depth. In some of these holes, about five or six feet from the bottom,
flows a small vein of water, which, in the same proportions as it
fills, loses itself through another part. These kind of springs never
fail; in consequence of which several of the inhabitants have been
induced to settle in their vicinity; for, except the river Big-Barren,
I did not see the smallest rivulet or creek; nor did I hear that they
have ever attempted to dig {152} wells; but were they to make the
essay, I have no doubt of their success. According to the observations
we have just made, the want of water, and wood adapted to make fences,
will be long an obstacle to the increase of settlements in this part
of Kentucky. Notwithstanding, one of these two inconveniences might be
obviated, by changing the present mode of enclosing land, and
substituting hedges, upon which the _gleditsia triacanthos_, one of
the most common trees in the country, might be used with success. The
Barrens at present are very thinly populated, considering their
extent; for on the road where the plantations are closest together we
counted but eighteen in a space of sixty or seventy miles.
Some of the inhabitants divide land of the Barrens in Kentucky into
three classes, according to its quality. That which I crossed, where
the soil is yellowish and rather gravelly, appeared to me the best
adapted for the culture of corn. That of Indian wheat is almost the
only thing to which the inhabitants apply themselves; but as the
settlements are of a fresh date, the land has not been able to acquire
that degree of prosperity that is observed on this side Mulder Hill.
Most of the inhabitants who go to settle in the country, incline upon
the skirts, or along {153} the Little and Big Barren rivers, where
they are attracted by the advantage that the meadows offer as pasture
for the cattle, an advantage which, in a great measure, the
inhabitants of the most fertile districts are deprived of, the country
being so very woody, that there is scarcely any grass land to be seen.
Every year, in the course of the months of March or April, the
inhabitants set fire to the grass, which at that time is dried up, and
through its extreme length, would conceal from the cattle a fortnight
or three weeks longer the new grass, which then begins to spring up.
This custom is nevertheless generally censured; as being set on fire
too early, the new grass is stripped of the covering that ought to
shelter it from the spring and frosts, and in consequence of which its
vegetation is retarded. The custom of burning the meadows was formerly
practised by the natives, who came in this part of the country to
hunt; in fact, they do it now in the other parts of North America,
where there are _savannas_ of an immense extent. Their aim in setting
fire to it is to allure the stags, bisons, &c. into the parts which
are burnt, where they can discern them at a greater distance. Unless a
person has seen these dreadful conflagrations, it is impossible to
form {154} the least idea of them. The flames that occupy generally
an extent of several miles, are sometimes driven by the wind with such
rapidity, that the inhabitants, even on horseback, have become a prey
to them. The American sportsmen and the savages preserve themselves
from this danger by a very ingenious method; they immediately set fire
to the part of the meadow where they are, and then retire into the
space that is burnt, where the flame that threatened them stops for
the want of nourishment.
{155} CHAP. XVII
_General observations upon Kentucky.--Nature of the soil.--First
settlements in the state.--Right of property uncertain.--
Population._
The state of Kentucky is situated 36 deg. 30 min. and 39 deg. 30 min.
north latitude, and 28 deg. and 89 deg. west longitude; its boundaries
to the northwest are the Ohio, for an extent of about seven hundred
and sixty miles, to the east of Virginia, and to the south of
Tennessea; it is separated from Virginia by the river Sandy and the
Laurel Mountains, one of the principal links of the Alleghanies. The
greatest length of this state is about four hundred miles, and its
greatest breadth about two hundred. This vast extent appears to lie
upon a bank of chalky stone, identic in its nature, and covered with a
stratum of vegetable earth, which varies in its composition, and is
from ten to fifteen feet thick. The {156} boundaries of this immense
bank are not yet prescribed in any correct manner, but its thickness
must be very considerable, to judge of it by the rivers in the
country, the borders of which, and particularly those of the Kentucky
and Dick rivers, which is one branch of it, rise, in some parts,
three hundred feet perpendicular, where the chalky stone is seen quite
bare.
The soil in Kentucky, although irregular, is not mountainous, if we
except some parts contiguous to the Ohio and on this side Virginia.
The chalky stone, and abundant coal mines which lie useless, are the
only mineral substances worthy of notice. Iron mines are very scarce
there, and, to the best of my remembrance, but one was worked, which
is far from being sufficient for the wants of the country.
The Kentucky and Green rivers empty themselves into the Ohio, after a
course of three hundred miles; they fall so low in summer time, that
they are forded a hundred and fifty miles from their _embouchure_; but
in the winter and spring they experience such sudden and strong
increases that the waters of the Kentucky rise about forty feet in
four-and-twenty hours. This variation is still more remarkable in the
secondary rivers which run into it; the latter, {157} though
frequently from ten to fifteen fathoms broad, preserve such little
water in summer, that there is scarcely one of them which cannot be
crossed without wetting the feet; and the stream of water that
serpentines upon the bed of chalky rock is at that time reduced to a
few inches in depth; in consequence of which we may look upon the
Kentucky as an immense bason, which, independent of the natural
illapse of its waters through the channel of the rivers, loses a great
part of them by interior openings.
The Atlantic part of the United States in that respect affords a
perfect contrast with Kentucky, as on the other side of the
Alleghanies not the least vestige of chalky stone is seen. The rivers,
great and small, however distant from their source, are subject to no
other change in the volume of their waters but what results from a
more or less rainy season; and their springs, which are very numerous,
always supply water in abundance; this applies more particularly to
the southern states, with which I am perfectly acquainted.
According to the succinct idea that we have just given of Kentucky, it
is easy to judge that the inhabitants are exposed to a very serious
inconvenience, {158} that of wanting water in the summer; still we
must except those in the vicinity of great rivers and their principal
channels, that always preserve water enough to supply their domestic
wants; thence it results that many estates, even among the most
fertile, are not cleared, and that the owners cannot get rid of them
without the greatest difficulty, as the emigrants, better informed now
a days, make no purchases before they have a correct statement of
localities.