which, after a course of about thirty miles, empties itself into the
eastern branch of the River Susquehannah. During floods you may go down
in light bateaux along the creek, Tyoga and Susquehannah rivers, the
whole way from Bath to the Chesapeak Bay, without interruption; and in
the fall of the year there is generally water sufficient for canoes from
Bath downwards; but owing to the great drought that prevailed through
every part of the country this year, the depth of water in the creek was
found insufficient to float even a canoe of the smallest size. Had it
been practicable, it was our intention to have proceeded from Bath by
water; but finding that it was not, we once more set off on foot, and
pursued our way along the banks of the river till we came to a small
village of eight or ten houses, called Newtown, about thirty miles
distant from Bath. Here we found the stream tolerably deep, and the
people informed us, that excepting at one or two narrow shoals, they
were certain that in every part of it, lower down, there was sufficient
water for canoes; accordingly, determined to be our own watermen, being
five in number including our servants, we purchased a couple of canoes
from two farmers, who lived on the banks of the river, and having lashed
them together, in order to render them more steady and safe, we put our
baggage on board, and boldly embarked.
[Sidenote: CANOES STRANDED.]
It was about three o’clock on a remarkably clear though cold afternoon
that we left the village, and the current being strong, we hoped to be
able to reach before night a tavern, situated, as we were told, on the
banks of the river, about six miles below Newtown. For the first two
miles we got on extremely well; but beyond this the river proving to be
much shallower than we had been led to believe, we found it a matter of
the utmost difficulty to proceed. Our canoes repeatedly struck upon the
shoals, and so much time was consumed in setting them again free, that
before we had accomplished more than two thirds of our voyage the day
closed. As night advanced a very sensible change was observable in the
weather; a heavy shower of hail came pouring down, and, involved in
thick darkness, whilst the moon was obscured by a cloud, our canoes were
drifted by the current, to which, being unable to see our way, we had
consigned them, on a bank in the middle of the river. In endeavouring to
extricate ourselves we unfortunately, owing to the darkness, took a
wrong direction, and at the end of a few minutes found our canoes so
firmly wedged in the gravel that it was impossible to move them. Nothing
now remained to be done but for every one of us to jump into the water,
and to put his shoulder to the canoes. This we accordingly did, and
having previously unlashed, in order to render them more manageable, we
in a short time contrived to haul one of them into deep water; here,
however, the rapidity of the current was so great, that notwithstanding
all our endeavours to the contrary, the canoe was forcibly swept away
from us, and in the attempt to hold it fast we had the misfortune to see
it nearly filled with water.
Deprived thus of one of our canoes, and of a great part of our baggage
in it, which, for ought we knew, was irrecoverably lost, we determined
to proceed more cautiously with the remaining one; having returned,
therefore, to the bank, we carried every thing that was in the canoe on
our shoulders to the shore, which was about forty yards distant; no very
easy or agreeable task, as the water reached up to our waists, and the
current was so strong that it was with the utmost difficulty we could
keep our feet. The canoe being emptied, we brought it, as nearly as we
could guess, to the spot where the other one had been swept away from
us, and one of the party then getting into it with a paddle, we
committed it, pursuant to his desire, to the stream, hoping that it
would be carried down after the other, and that thus we should be able
to recover both it and the things which it contained. In a few seconds
the stream carried the canoe out of our sight, for the moon shone but
faintly through the clouds, and being all of us totally unacquainted
with the river, we could not but feel some concern for the personal
safety of our companion. Before many minutes, however, were elapsed, we
had the satisfaction of hearing his voice at a distance, and having made
the best of our way along the shore to the spot from whence the sound
proceeded, we had the satisfaction to find that he had been carried in
safety close beside the canoe which had been lost, we were not a little
pleased also at finding our portmanteaus at the bottom of the canoe,
though well soaked in water; but such of our clothes as we had taken off
preparatory to going into the water, together with several light
articles, were all lost.
[Sidenote: SCARCITY OF PROVISIONS.]
It froze so very hard now, that in a few minutes our portmanteaus, and
such of our garments as had been wetted, were covered with a coat of
ice, and our limbs were quite benumbed, in consequence of our having
waded so often through the river. Desirous, however, as we were to get
to a house, we determined, in the first instance, to dispose of our
baggage in a safe place, lest it might be pillaged. A deep hollow that
appeared under some fallen trees seemed well adapted for the purpose,
and having stowed it there, and covered it with leaves, we advanced
forward. There were no traces whatsoever of a path in the woods where we
landed, and for upwards of a mile we had to force our way through the
bushes along the banks of the river; but at the end of that distance, we
hit upon one, which in a short time brought us to a miserable little log
house. At this house no accommodation whatsoever was to be had, but we
were told, that if we followed the path through the woods for about a
mile farther, we should come to a waggon road, upon which we should find
another house, where probably we might gain admittance. We reached this
house according to the directions we had received; we readily gained
admittance into it, and the blaze of an immense wood fire, piled half
way up the chimney, soon made us amends for what we had suffered from
the inclemency of the weather. The coldness of the air, together with
the fatigue which we had gone through in the course of the day, had by
this time given a keen edge to our appetites; no sooner therefore had we
warmed ourselves than we began to make enquiries about what we could get
to satisfy the calls of hunger; but had we asked for a sheep or an ox
for supper at an inn in England, the man of the house could not, I
verily believe, have been more amazed than was our American landlord at
these enquiries: “The women were in bed”—“He knew not where to find the
keys”—“He did not believe there was any thing in the pantry”—“Provisions
were very scarce in the country”—“If he gave us any there would not be
enough for the family in the morning”—Such were his answers to us.
However we plied him so closely, and gave him such a pitiable
description of our sufferings, that at length he was moved; the keys
were found, the pantry opened, and to satisfy the hunger of five hungry
young men, two little flour cakes, scarcely as big as a man’s hand each,
and about a pint and a half of milk, were brought forth. He vowed he
could give us nothing more; his wife would never pardon him if he did
not leave enough for their breakfasts in the morning; obliged therefore
to remain satisfied, we eat our little pittance, and then laid ourselves
down to rest on our skins, which we had brought with us on our
shoulders.
[Sidenote: SCARCITY OF PROVISIONS.]
In the morning we found that the man had really made an accurate report
of the state of his pantry. There was barely enough in it for the
family, and unable to get a single morsel to eat, we set out for the
little house where we had first stopped the preceding night, which was
the only one within two or three miles, there hoping to find the
inhabitants better provided for: not a bit of bread however was to be
had here; but the woman of the house told us, that she had some Indian
corn meal, and that if we could wait for an hour or two she would bake a
loaf for us. This was most grateful intelligence: we only begged of her
to make it large enough, and then set off to search in the interim for
our canoes and baggage. At several other places, in going down the
Susquehannah, we afterwards found an equal scarcity of provisions with
what we did in this neighbourhood. One morning in particular, after
having proceeded for about four or five miles in our canoe, we stopped
to breakfast; but nothing eatable was there to be had at the first house
we went to, except a few potatoes that were roasting before the fire.
The people very cheerfully gave us two or three, and told us at the same
time, that if we went to some houses at the opposite side of the river
we should most probably find better fare: we did so; but here the
inhabitants were still more destitute. On asking them where we should be
likely to get any thing to eat, an old woman answered, that if we went
to a village about four miles lower down the river, we should find a
house, she believed, where “_they did keep victuals_,” an expression so
remarkable that I could not help noting it down immediately. We reached
this house, and finding it well stocked with provisions of every kind,
took care to provide ourselves, not only with what we wanted for
immediate use, but also with what we might want on a future occasion, in
case we came to any place equally destitute of provisions as those which
we had before stopped at; a precaution that was far from proving
unnecessary.
But to return. We found our canoes and baggage just as we had left them,
and having embarked once more, we made the best of our way down to the
house where we had bespoke breakfast, which stood on the banks of the
river. The people here were extremely civil; they assisted us in making
fresh paddles in lieu of those which we had lost the night before; and
for the trifle which we gave them above what they asked us for our
breakfasts they were very thankful, a most unusual circumstance in the
United States.
[Sidenote: SUSQUEHANNAH.]
After breakfast we pursued our way for about seven miles down the river,
but in the course of this distance we were obliged to get into the water
more than a dozen different times, I believe, to drag the canoes over
the shoals; in short, by the time we arrived at a house in the
afternoon, we were so completely disgusted with our water conveyance,
that had we not been able to procure two men, as we did in the
neighbourhood, to conduct our canoes to the mouth of Tyoga River, where
there was reason to imagine that the water would be found deeper, we
should certainly have left them behind us. The men set out at an early
hour in the morning, and we proceeded some time afterwards on foot along
the banks, but so difficult was the navigation, that we reached Tyoga
Point or Lochartzburg, a small town built at the mouth of the river,
several hours before them.
On arriving at this place, we heard to our disappointment, that the
Susquehannah, although generally at this season of the year navigable
for boats drawing four feet water, was now nearly as low as the Tyoga
River, so that in many places, particularly at the rapids, there was
scarcely sufficient water to float a canoe over the sharp rocks with
which the bed of the river abounds; in fine, we were informed that the
channel was now intricate and dangerous, and that no person unacquainted
with the river could attempt to proceed down it without great risk; we
found no difficulty, however, in hiring from amongst the watermen
accustomed to ply on the river, a man that was perfectly well acquainted
with it; and having exchanged our two canoes, pursuant to his advice,
for one of a very large size, capable of holding us all conveniently, we
renewed our voyage.
[Sidenote: SUSQUEHANNAH.]
From Lochartzburgh to Wilkes-barré, or Wyoming, situated on the
south-east side of the Susquehannah, the distance is about ninety miles,
and when the river is full, and the current of course strong, as is
usually the case in the fall and spring of the year, you may go down the
whole of this distance in one day; but owing to the lowness of the water
we were no less than four days performing the voyage, though we made the
utmost expedition possible. In many parts of the river, indeed, we found
the current very rapid; at the Falls of Wyalusing, for instance, we were
carried down three or four miles in about a quarter of an hour; but in
other places, where the river was deep, scarcely any current was
perceptible in it, and we were obliged to work our way with paddles. The
bed of the river abounds with rock and gravel, and the water is so
transparent, that in many parts, where it must have been at least twenty
feet deep, the smallest pebble was distinguishable at the bottom. The
width of the river varies from fifty to three hundred yards, and
scarcely any stream in America has a more irregular course; in some
places it runs in a direction diametrically opposite to what it does in
others. The country through which this (the eastern) branch of the
Susquehannah passes, is extremely uneven and rugged; indeed, from
Lochartzburgh till within a short distance of Wilkes-barré, it is
bounded the entire way by steep mountains either on the one side or the
other. The mountains are never to be met with at both sides of the same
part of the river, except it be at places where the river takes a very
sudden bend; but wherever you perceive a range of mountains on one side,
you are sure to find an extensive plain on the opposite one; scarcely in
any part do the mountains extend for more than one mile together on the
same side of the river, and in many instances, during the course of one
mile, you will perceive more than a dozen different changes of the
mountains from one side to the other. It may readily be imagined, from
this description of the eastern branch of the Susquehannah, that the
scenery along it must be very fine; and, indeed, I think there is no
river in America that abounds with such a variety and number of
picturesque views. At every bend the prospect varies, and there is
scarcely a spot between Lochartzburg and Wilkes-barré where the painter
would not find a subject well worthy of his pencil. The mountains,
covered with bold rocks and woods, afford the finest foreground
imaginable; the plains, adorned with cultivated fields and patches of
wood, and watered by the noble river, of which you catch a glimpse here
and there, fill up the middle part of the landscape; and the blue hills,
peeping up at a distance, terminate the view in the most pleasing
manner.
The country bordering upon the Susquehannah abounds with deer, and as we
passed down we met with numberless parties of the country people engaged
in driving these animals. The deer, on being pursued in the neighbouring
country, immediately make for the river, where men being concealed in
bushes placed on the strand, at the part to which it is expected they
will come down, take the opportunity of shooting them as soon as they
enter the water. Should the deer not happen to come near these ambushes,
the hunters then follow them in canoes: it seldom happens that they
escape after having once taken to the water.
Very fine fish are found in every part of the Susquehannah, and the
river is much frequented by wild fowl, particularly by the canvass back
duck.
The whole way between Lochartzburg and Wilkes-barré are settlements on
each side of the river, at no great distance from each other; there are
also several small towns on the banks of the river. The principal one is
French Town, situated within a short distance of the Falls of Wyalusing,
on the western side of the river. This town was laid out at the expence
of several philanthropic persons in Pennsylvania, who entered into a
subscription for the purpose, as a place of retreat for the unfortunate
French emigrants who fled to America. The town contains about fifty log
houses; and for the use of the inhabitants a considerable track of land
has been purchased adjoining to it, which has been divided into farms.
The French settled here seem, however, to have no great inclination or
ability to cultivate the earth, and the greater part of them have let
their lands at a small yearly rent to Americans, and amuse themselves
with driving deer, fishing, and fowling; they live entirely to
themselves; they hate the Americans, and the Americans in the
neighbourhood hate, and accuse them of being an idle dissipated set. The
manners of the two people are so very different that it is impossible
they should ever agree.
[Sidenote: WILKES-BARRÉ]
Wilkes-barré, formerly Wyoming, is the chief town of Luzerne county. It
is situated on a plain, bounded on one side by the Susquehannah, and on
the other by a range of mountains, and contains about one hundred and
fifty wooden dwelling houses, a church, court house, and gaol. It was
here that the dreadful massacre was committed, during the American war,
by the Indians under the command of colonel Butler, which is recorded in
most of the histories of the war, and which will for ever remain a blot
on the English annals. Several of the houses in which the unfortunate
victims retired to defend themselves, on being refused all quarter, are
still standing, perforated in every part with balls; the remains of
others that were set on fire are also still to be seen, and the
inhabitants will on no account suffer them to be repaired. The Americans
are equally tenacious of the ruins in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia.
It was our intention at first to have proceeded down the river from
hence as far as Sunburg, or Harrisburgh; but the weather being now so
cold as to render a water conveyance, especially a canoe, where you are
always obliged to sit very still, extremely disagreeable, we determined
to cross the Blue Mountains to Bethlehem in Pennsylvania, situated about
sixty-five miles to the south-east of Wilkes-barré; we accordingly hired
horses, as we had done on a former occasion, to carry our baggage, and
proceeded ourselves on foot. We set out in the afternoon, the day after
that on which we terminated our voyage, and before evening crossed the
ridge of mountains which bounds the plain of Wilkes-barré. These
mountains, which are extremely rugged and stony, abound with iron ore
and coal; for the manufacture of the former several forges have been
established, but no use is made of the coal, there being plenty of wood
as yet in the country, which is esteemed much more agreeable fuel. From
the top of them you have a very grand view of the plain below, on which
stands the town of Wilkes-barré, and of the river Susquehannah, which
may be traced above the town, winding amidst the hills for a great
number of miles.
[Sidenote: WOODS.]
The country beyond the mountains is extremely rough, and but very thinly
settled, of course still much wooded. The people, at the few houses
scattered through it, appeared to live much better than the inhabitants
of any other part of the States which I before passed through. At every
house where we stopped we found abundance of good bread, butter, tea,
coffee, chocolate, and venison; and indeed we fared sumptuously here, in
comparison to what we had done for many weeks preceding.
The woods in many parts of this country consisted almost wholly of
hemlock trees, which are of the pine species, and grow only on poor
ground. Many of them were of an unusually large size, and their tops so
closely matted together, that after having entered into the depth of the
woods you could see the sky in but very few places. The brush wood under
these trees, different from what I ever saw elsewhere, consisted for the
most part of the oleander and of the kalmia laurel, whose deep green
served to render the gloom of the woods still more solemn; indeed they
seemed completely to answer the description given by the poets of the
sacred groves; and it were impossible to enter them without being struck
with awe.
About twenty miles before you come to Bethlehem, in going thither from
Wilkes-barré, you cross the ridge of Blue Mountains at what is called
the Wind-Gap; how it received that name I never could learn. This gap is
nearly a mile wide, and it exhibits a tremendously wild and rugged
scene. The road does not run at the bottom of the gap, but along the
edge of the south mountain, about two thirds of the way up. Above you on
the right, nothing is to be seen but broken rocks and trees, and on the
left you look down a steep precipice. The rocks at the bottom of the
precipice have every appearance, it is said (for we did not descend into
it) of having been washed by water for ages; and from hence it has been
conjectured that this must have been the original channel of the River
Delaware, which now passes through the ridge, at a place about fifteen
miles to the north-west. Whether this were the case or not it is
impossible to determine at this day; but it is certain, from the
appearance of the country on each side of the Delaware, that a great
change has taken place in this quarter, in consequence of some vast
inundation.
[Illustration:
VIEW _of_ BETHLEHEM _a Moravian settlement_.
_I. Weld del. J. Dadley sculp^t._
_Published Dec. 12 1798, by I. Stockdale, Picadilly._
]
On the Atlantic side of the mountains the country is much less rugged
than on the opposite one, and it is more cleared and much more thickly
settled: the inhabitants are for the most part of German extraction.
[Sidenote: BETHLEHEM.]
Bethlehem is the principal settlement, in North America, of the
Moravians, or United Brethren. It is most agreeably situated on a rising
ground, bounded on one side by the river Leheigh, which falls into the
Delaware, and on the other by a creek, which has a very rapid current,
and affords excellent seats for a great number of mills. The town is
regularly laid out, and contains about eighty strong built stone
dwelling houses and a large church. Three of the dwelling houses are
very spacious buildings, and are appropriated respectively to the
accommodation of the unmarried young men of the society, of the
unmarried females, and of the widows. In these houses different
manufactures are carried on, and the inmates of each are subject to a
discipline approaching somewhat to that of a monastic institution. They
eat together in a refectory; they sleep in dormitories; they attend
morning and evening prayers in the chapel of the house; they work for a
certain number of hours in the day; and they have stated intervals
allotted to them for recreation. They are not subjected, by the rules of
the society, to perpetual confinement; but they seldom, notwithstanding,
go beyond the bounds of their walks and gardens, except it be
occasionally to visit their friends in the town.
[Sidenote: MORAVIANS.]