the determination to continue the journey, for none of our party were
weak-kneed; but it pleased us much to know that such a man as General
Washington could praise so heartily those who had begun the building of
Marietta.
THE NAME OF THE TOWN
And now, lest I forget it, and since it is brought to my mind by what
Parson Cutler said to us, let me tell you that this town came very near
being named Adelphia. It was the Parson's idea, and he said much to us
concerning it, complaining, as I thought, because it had been called
Marietta. The meaning of Adelphia is "brethren," so he said, and he
claimed that by having constantly before them the idea that they were
to dwell there as brethren, the people might be more inclined to act as
such.
Later, when he had gone, I heard Master Rouse and Captain Haskell
discussing the matter, and both allowed that the good parson was really
irritated because his suggestion had been cast aside, for one could
readily see that Master Cutler had set his mind stoutly upon the name
Adelphia. In my opinion, however, Marietta is much better.
[Illustration: Four deer eating ripe grapes in Muskingum bottom.]
Among other things, Parson Cutler told us that game was so plentiful
even close about Marietta, that we need have no fear of ever being
hungry. He said that in the course of a walk one morning up the
Muskingum bottom he saw four deer, and there were ripe grapes hanging
in profusion all around him. In addition to that, he found clam beds on
the shores, and, what was not quite so pleasant, killed a rattlesnake
that lay coiled up in his path.
I don't claim to be timorous under ordinary circumstances, and am ready
to stand my chances against Indians or bears; but when it comes to
snakes, I must say that there is a bit of cowardice in me, for a fellow
can't guard himself against such enemies, and it seems to me that they,
with the savages, make up the disagreeable features in all the pictures
that were drawn for us of our new home.
CAMPUS MARTIUS
Now listen to this description which Parson Cutler gave us of Campus
Martius, and I have since come to know that he did not set forth its
characteristics any too strongly.
[Illustration: Campus Maritius.]
It is a kind of house, or castle, if you please, instead of a regular
fort, made in the form of a hollow square, of which the sides measure
one hundred and eighty feet, and is surrounded by a heavy line of
palisades,--meaning a high log fence,--as protection against, the
Indians.
This building contains seventy-two rooms, each eighteen feet square or
more, and General Putnam had told the Parson that in case of necessity
nine hundred people could live within its walls.
Surely it seems like a city of itself, when one attempts to go from end
to end inside the broad passages, and sees the doors leading to rooms
in which an entire family might contrive to live with more or less
comfort.
Parson Cutler was twenty-nine days driving from Ipswich to Marietta in
his sulky, so he told us; but do not understand that such a journey may
always be made in so short a time. He took advantage of the best season
of the year in which to make the trip, and returned before the snow
came; consequently, and because of traveling without very much baggage,
and with a stout horse to draw his light sulky, he could make many more
miles in a day than could such wagons as ours.
INDEPENDENCE DAY
He told us of the Fourth of July celebration, which was held in
Marietta on that first Independence Day after the settlers arrived
there. They set about making a feast, and verily it must have been one.
There were venison barbecues,--meaning deer roasted whole,--buffalo
steaks broiled over the glowing coals, bear meat cooked in every manner
that could be devised with the few cooking implements our people
possessed, small pigs roasted whole, and, as the greatest delicacy of
all, an enormous pike, more than six feet long, said to be the largest
ever caught in the Ohio River.
[Illustration]
The feast was kept up until twelve o'clock at night, and then the tired
merrymakers went to their cabins and slept until late in the forenoon,
as the parson said, in such a tone as if he believed they were wasting
their time by thus remaining in bed after the sun had risen.
Then came, according to Parson Cutler's story, at a later date, the
opening of the first court in the territory, and it must have been a
wondrous spectacle. The sheriff, who, as you know, is Colonel Ebenezer
Sproat, holding a drawn sword in his hand, marched with a military
escort, ahead of the governor, the judges, the secretary, and others,
to Campus Martius, where the court was held.
[Illustration]
There are Indians in plenty about Marietta, and Parson Cutler said that
when these savages saw Colonel Sproat, who as you know is an unusually
tall man, they at once gave him the name of Hetuck, or Big Buckeye,
which was the same as if they had called him one of the huge trees of
the forest.
[Illustration]
MASTER DEVOLL'S HOUSE
Nor was the growth of our town of Marietta the only thing concerning
which the good man told us, for he gladdened Mistress Devoll's heart by
describing to her the house her husband was building, which was to be
forty feet long by eighteen feet wide, and the height of two stories.
Best of all, there was to be a brick chimney, perhaps more than one,
as soon as a kiln had been made and the bricks burned. It was to be by
far the largest building, with the exception of Campus Martius, in the
town.
THE INDIAN MOUNDS
Parson Cutler told us during that night, when we sat around him at
Reading, about queer-shaped mounds of earth in various forms, which
had evidently been thrown up many hundred years before, perhaps by the
Indians, perhaps by some race of people regarding whom we know nothing;
but certain it is there were very many about Marietta. In fact, Campus
Martius was built on one of these mounds.
These embankments, as they might really be called, are of various
shapes, some like serpents, many, many hundred feet long and I can't
say how many feet high, and of such huge proportions that they may be
seen from a long distance. There is one, we were told, shaped something
after the fashion of an elephant; others are formed in circles, and
still others appear to have been made for fortifications.
When we went to bed that night Ben Cushing and I talked until well past
midnight concerning what these things might have been, and he announced
that it was his intention to dig beneath them, believing there he
would find much in the way of treasure; but when he saw the enormous
embankments, he soon realized that neither one man nor twenty could
make much headway digging beneath them.
I heard General Putnam say it was his belief these mounds had something
to do with the religious ceremonies of those who had built them; that
they had a certain significance in the worship of the Great Spirit; but
as for there being treasure beneath them, he laughed at the idea.
If I should set down all Parson Cutler told us on that night concerning
the country to which we were going, I might never get further in my
story, for the good man talked long and fast, describing so many things
of interest, such as the trapping of turkeys, the hunting of bears,
and the different methods of killing deer, that my hair would be gray
before I could write it all out fairly.
Therefore, instead of attempting to repeat his stories, I will go on
with my tale of how we journeyed from Massachusetts into the Ohio
country.
AT HARRISBURG
It was near the close of October when we arrived at the Susquehanna
River, at a settlement called Harrisburg, and a very slovenly looking
town it was, as I thought, for those who built it, only two years
before, had thus far not taken the trouble to uproot the stumps of
trees which still stood in the roadways and gave the entire place a
wild, neglected appearance.
I was told that the settlement had formerly been called Louisburg, and
the only reason I can think of for the change of name is that there can
be found a ferry in charge of a man named Harris, and before any houses
were built near by it was known as Harris's Ferry.
[Illustration]
We remained at this place all night, the women and children going into
a log tavern to sleep, while we men and boys made our beds in the
wagons, or on the hay in the stable, as best pleased us.
Because of not caring to spend so much money as would be necessary to
buy a supper for all our company, only the women and small children
partook of the tavern fare, the older girls, the men, and we boys
eating our meals in the tavern yard, after having cooked them in the
tavern kitchen.
The next day's journey was only thirteen miles, and then we arrived at
Carlisle, which was a military station during our war for independence,
and where were yet to be found barracks made of bricks, like regular
houses. There were two or three shops, and a number of good dwellings,
better than one would expect to find even in a town that had been
settled so long.
Because we had not been fed overabundantly since leaving that farmhouse
where we feasted on buckwheat cakes, Master Rouse decided that we
should all have dinner at the tavern, and a bountiful meal it was,
although not quite so satisfactory to me as I could have wished,
because of the fact that just then Isaac Barker took it into his head
to play what he considered a funny trick.
ISAAC BARKER'S SPORT
When a huge platter of meat was being brought on the table, and we were
all looking at it with most pleasant anticipations, for it appeared to
have been cooked to a turn, Isaac seized the dish in both hands, ran
out of the room as if intending to eat it all himself, and the older
girls followed him, racing around and around the building with shouts
of mirth, while the tavern keeper and his wife looked on in amazement,
until Isaac tired of running.
Then he replaced the meat on the table; but by this time it had grown
cold, and instead of having hot venison steak, we were forced to
eat lukewarm meat, and it is not needed that I should say anything
concerning the disagreeable flavor of deer flesh when it has been kept
too long from the fire.
[Illustration]
There are times when one really wearies of Isaac's sport, and, as Ben
Cushing said when we drove away from Carlisle, a little fun now and
then is relished by the saddest of men; but when one keeps it up from
morning until night, and again from night until morning, it grows
wearisome.
UNCLE DANIEL CARTER
When we left Carlisle it was to journey to a settlement called Big
Springs, where, much to our surprise and delight, we came upon Uncle
Daniel Carter with his three yoke of oxen hitched to a Conestoga
wagon, and having as a load all Uncle Daniel's household goods as well
as his family.
[Illustration]
Uncle Daniel was an old acquaintance of ours, for he lived but a few
miles from Mattapoisett and had started for Ohio some two weeks before
we left home.
There had been no expectation in our minds that we should meet him on
the journey, for it was believed that, moving as slowly as he must with
his ox team, he, if not his wife, would grow weary of attempting to
gain the Ohio country, and turn off at some inviting-looking point long
before having arrived thus far in Pennsylvania.
But the old man was not made of such stuff; he had set out to join
Rufus Putnam's company at Marietta, and declared that he would continue
on if it took a year to make the trip.
What a meeting that was with the old man and his family! It was like
coming upon Mattapoisett suddenly. I had never before realized how much
affection one may unwittingly have for his neighbors, until we saw
Uncle Daniel outside the log hut where he had stopped for the night,
watching us with an odd expression on his face as if doubting whether
we should recognize him.
UNCLE DANIEL JOINS OUR COMPANY
Mistress Carter insisted that she and her two daughters prepare the
evening meal for all our company, and it seemed much as if we were
doing her the greatest favor, when we consented joyfully to share what
we had every reason to believe was a goodly portion of Uncle Daniel's
scanty store of food.
[Illustration]
When the meal was ended, Isaac and Ben Cushing built a lively fire
outside the hut, for the night was chilly, and with the children
wrapped in their warmest garments, all of us sat, or stretched out at
full length, around the cheering blaze, listening to Uncle Daniel's
story of his journey, or telling him of that which had happened to us
since we left home.
Before we crawled into the wagons that night it was decided, and
without any controversy, that Uncle Daniel should join our company, the
only question being as to whether the horses would not travel so much
faster than his oxen that we could not well keep together.
The old man put an end to any speculation of that kind, however, by
declaring that when night came we should find him not far behind us,
and he laid plans for the journey of future days, by saying that we
were to give no heed whatsoever to him in the morning; he would feed
his cattle and be off, most-like before break of day.
"I'll be on hand when it's time for supper, an' don't make any mistake
about that part of it," he said cheerily. "I'm willin' to agree that
my creeters can't walk as fast as your horses; but they can keep it
up a good while longer, an' you'll find it's the slow an' steady that
comes out ahead in the long run. So look for your Uncle Daniel before
sunset, an' if he fails to show up, then you can set it down as a fact
that his wagon has gone to smash, or the oxen have turned tail for
Massachusetts."
HARD TRAVELING
Next morning Ben Cushing would have it that we had come upon bad
luck in meeting Uncle Daniel, for at daybreak the rain came down in
torrents, and speedily the roads, which were none of the best even in
dry weather, became like quagmires. Before we were well on our way the
wheels of the heavy wagons sank deep in the mud; the women were forced
to remain under the covers or withstand the pelting of the rain, and we
men, who walked alongside in order to help the horses with their loads,
were speedily drenched to the skin.
[Illustration]
Mistress Devoll would have insisted that we turn back and remain at
the log shanty until the rain ceased; but both Captain Haskell and
Master Rouse put an end to any such proposition by saying that now had
come the season when we might rightly expect storms, and if we were to
delay our journey save at such times as the weather was fair, winter
would overtake us among the mountains where we might find it impossible
either to go ahead or to retreat.
Therefore we plodded on, and instead of overtaking Uncle Daniel, as
Ben Cushing had predicted we should, before noon, we saw nothing of
him until night came. Then there was no bad luck in having a cheery
blaze in the fireplace of a log tavern, and every arrangement possible
made for our comfort, to all of which the old man had attended before
looking after his own comfort.
MUD AND WATER
It seemed to me as if the rain fell incessantly, and you can fancy what
the roads were after eight and forty hours had elapsed.
In Massachusetts we would have said that they were impassable at the
best, and now they had been converted into veritable swamps by the
downpour of water, or filled in places with blocks of sandstone over
which the wagons could not cross save we all put our shoulders to the
hinder part helping the horses along, unless we stopped to clear away
the obstacles.
[Illustration]
Again the ascents were so steep that the horses from both wagons must
be hitched to one in order to get it up the hill, and when we came to
the other side it was necessary to put locked chains on the wheels,
and, in addition, fasten large logs or tree tops to the back of the
vehicles that they might drag behind and thus prevent us from going
ahead too swiftly.
And all this was done in a heavy downpour of rain, when the women and
girls must of necessity remain under cover, except at such times as it
was absolutely necessary for them to alight in order to lessen the load.
As if to add to our discomfort, two of the animals began to show signs
of faltering, and Ben Cushing told me confidentially one night when we
were halted in the foothills, with no shelter save the body of the
wagon, and doing our utmost to keep a fire burning amid the rain, that
it was his belief we should not succeed in gaining the river before the
poor beasts were entirely worn out.
The way lay over a succession of sharp rises and yet sharper descents,
with the road in places falling off so much to one side that we were
obliged to fasten ropes to the tops of the wagons, and all of us men
lay hold, to prevent them from oversetting.
Such work as this might be necessary more than once in half a mile, we
all the while wading knee-deep in the mire, and at times finding it
difficult to raise our feet because of the mud.
A STORM OF SNOW
Then came the time when the rain changed to snow, and you can well
fancy that if the road was well-nigh impassable before, it was soon
in such a condition that one might say it would be impossible to go
farther.
Even the children were forced to get out and walk again and again, and
I have seen Mistress Devoll and Mistress Rouse stop many a time to pick
up their shoes which had been pulled from their feet by the clinging
mud.
Fancy such traveling while the snow came down like feathers, weighting
every branch of the trees and every bush until they stood far out over
the narrow roadway, shedding their frosty burdens upon the passer-by!
It seemed to me that I could see the horses grow weaker with each mile
we advanced, and when night came, after we had traveled no more than
six or eight miles at the expense of the most severe labor, it was as
much as we could do to keep them on their feet until the harness was
removed.
[Illustration]
This was the time when Uncle Daniel had the advantage of us, for his
oxen plowed their way through the mire, giving apparently no more heed
to the weight of the wagon than if it had been a child's toy cart, and
again and again did the old man unyoke the patient beasts in order to
bring them back, at times more than half a mile over a hard road, to
help one or the other of our wagons out of the mud, when, but for his
assistance, they might have stayed there until the crack of doom, so
deeply were the wheels embedded.
[Illustration]
I can look back upon many days we spent while journeying from
Massachusetts to the Ohio country with the greatest pleasure; but never
do I think of the time passed among the foothills, when the weather
was so bitter and the way so hard, without real mental distress, for
that journey, during at least eight days, was more like some horrible
nightmare than a reality.
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
If I were to make any attempt at describing our passage across the Blue
Mountains, the Middle and the Tuscarora Mountains, it would simply be
to repeat what I have already set down. Never once did we find a bit
of the road where there was easy traveling, and it seemed to me that
either the rain or the snow fell incessantly, until, wearied to the
verge of exhaustion by day, we were forced to remain half frozen and
wet to the skin from night until morning.
The women and children, if we camped at night where there were no
houses in which to take shelter, slept in the wagons, while the men
and boys made shift as best they might beneath the carts, getting such
warmth as could be had under the few blankets at their disposal and the
fires built close by, which were not of much avail because we could
find no dry fuel with which to feed them.
[Illustration]
Then came a day which I remember more vividly than any other of all
that long journey, when we descended the last of the Tuscarora Range,
and came to a fruitful valley, which we afterward learned was called
Ahwick, where was a small settlement, while here and there, when we
were on the higher land, could be seen farms which one might almost say
were ready for planting, despite the snow that yet lay deep among the
hills.
Master Rouse's wagon was leading the way and Uncle Daniel with his
plodding oxen brought up the rear. It was Saturday night; we expected
to remain at least two days, at the first place where we might sleep in
comfort, and it was necessary we find housing for all, which might not
be possible at the small log tavern we had heard would be found on the
road a short distance away.
A FRIENDLY DUNKARD
Therefore our party came to a halt at the first promising-looking
house, and Master Rouse set about learning what we might expect in the
way of entertainment.
The farm was owned by a German named Christian Hiples, who was of that
religious persuasion known as Dunkard, and a right friendly gentleman
he proved to be.
It really appeared to give him pain because he could not take all our
company in and give us the comforts of home; but it seemed to me that
he was doing even more than his share when he agreed that Master Rouse
and the members of his party should remain there, while the others of
us continued on to the tavern.
I regretted sorely that it was not my good fortune to be one of Master
Hiples's guests, for I had heard much concerning these people who call
themselves Dunkards, during our traveling through the state, and was
most eager to see them at home.
[Illustration]
Captain Haskell had told me that the Dunkards were Baptists who had
been driven from Germany early in the eighteenth century, when they
took refuge in Pennsylvania. So far as I could find out, their religion
consists in condemning warfare, and setting their faces against suits
at law. They have a peculiar belief regarding baptism, which Captain
Haskell said has to do with triple immersion. They wash each others'
feet before the Lord's Supper, and give to all members of their faith
what is called the kiss of charity. It is in their eyes almost the same
as a sin to dress other than plainly and cleanly, and from what I saw
of Master Hiples's house during the short time we halted in front of
it, I came to believe that cleanliness of home and its surroundings is
one of the articles of their belief, for I had not seen so pleasing a
place since we came out of Massachusetts.
When Master Rouse's family were thus comfortably housed, Mistress
Devoll's team, with Uncle Daniel's oxen plodding patiently behind,
continued on to a log tavern a short distance away, and the contrast
between this place and that where Master Rouse's people were staying
was so great that for the first time since leaving Mattapoisett, I was
nearly homesick.
MASTER HIPLES'S KINDNESS
We had comfortable quarters, if one judges comfort by being sheltered
from the rain and having sufficient heat; but it was far from pleasant
at the inn, and as soon as the horses had been properly cared for, I,
despite the fact that my legs were weary with long traveling, ran back
down the road to gaze with envy on Master Rouse and his family.
The old German was a kindly-faced man, with a long, white beard
extending to his waist, and a voice as mild and gentle as any woman's.
He had five or six grown daughters, and when I got back to the farm
these young women were doing all they might for the comfort of the
guests, without hope or expectation of being paid for the labor.
[Illustration]
There was, just outside the house, a huge brick oven in the open air,
and these young women, aided by their father, were already heating it
as if for a cooking bee. Sally Devoll told me it was their intention to
bake a large quantity of bread to be given to us when we set off once
more on our journey.
Therefore I came to have a friendly liking for these Dunkards, and
before we left Ahwick Valley I was fully persuaded they were what might
truthfully be called the salt of the earth.
A SURLY LANDLORD
When I got back to the log tavern there was considerable going on in
the way of excitement. The landlord, who had but one eye, having lost
the other, so we heard, during a fight when he was a younger man, was
anything but gentle in manners, and his appearance was such that one
felt as if the lightest word would provoke harsh treatment.
Now it so chanced that the racks in his stable had been built by
nailing slats up and down at the end of the stalls, and into the places
thus formed the hay was thrown from the loft.
Isaac Barker and Ben Cushing were both very careful to see that their
teams were well fed, and more particularly was it necessary now since
we had with us two horses that were ailing.