TRAVELS OF FOUR YEARS 
 AND A HALF IN THE UNI- 
 TED STATES OF AMERICA 
 DURING 1798, 1799, 1800, 
 1801, AND 1802. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN DAVIS 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY 
 
 A. J. MORRISON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Among the number of non-official inspectors 
 who came from Europe to the United States be- 
 tween the year 1776 and the year 1802 — the quar- 
 ter-century elapsed between the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence and the incorporation of the vague West 
 — there was not one whose record of his observa- 
 tions is uninteresting. The great Experiment at- 
 tracted men of a superior type to see what the new 
 nation was; or, of those who found themselves 
 landed in America at that time it was the man of 
 ordered intellect, open-minded, who set down 
 memoranda. The result is a series of documents, 
 a book for every year almost, which if not an abso- 
 lute registry for that era of origins is beyond ques- 
 tion an extraordinary repository, both as fact and 
 by comparison, for when before have the begin- 
 nings of a nation been journalized? 
 
 The impulse to the keeping of a day-book may 
 be of several sorts, the purely business, the scien- 
 tifically objective, the literary — facts for profit, 
 facts as facts, and facts somewhat as drama. This 
 book by John Davis is for that period fairly unique 
 as the work of a Traveller who was professedly 
 literary, who cared little for the political aspects of 
 what he saw and asked noplace among statisticians. 
 Crevecoeur and Chateaubriand were sentimental- 
 ists, but Crevecoeur is very disquisitional and Cha- 
 
iv 
 
 teaubriand might have written his book in his 
 tower. Henry Wansey, in his Journal of a Sum- 
 mer, is the Pepys of this eighteenth century group ; 
 Parkinson and Cooper are also, in their way, en- 
 tirely practical; the others, Robin, Chastellux, 
 Schoepf, Castiglioni, Coke, Bayard, von Biilow, 
 and the rest, are political philosophers, topogra- 
 phers of more or less sprightliness, anecdotal, 
 tabulators, or men interested in natural and applied 
 science, all good, and none like John Davis. 
 
 In the first place, John Davis was not at all a 
 heralded foreigner. He came to America a very 
 young man, twenty-two years old, to make a living. 
 He could not inspect except in and between places 
 where he found employment. As it happened, his 
 business led him from New York to South Caro- 
 lina, and (south of New England) he saw the 
 country as it was along the coast before Ohio was 
 a State. He was a sailor with a literary sense and 
 equipment, resolved after a dozen years of the sea 
 to make literature a profession. Being active and 
 industrious, although a writer of meditative verse, 
 he succeeded : the second edition of his book bears 
 the sub-title, " Travels in Search of Independence 
 and Settlement. Portum Inveni." 
 
 John Davis was in the writing business, and he 
 could not afford to be habitually a recluse. From 
 the pages of his book an adequate idea may be had 
 of the status of American authorship at the turn 
 of the eighteenth century. That is perhaps the 
 least worth of the book, but since there is not a 
 great deal of direct evidence on this point, it is to 
 
V 
 
 be remarked that Davis took stock of the hterary 
 situation at that time, talked with authors at 
 Dickins's shop in Philadelphia, and knew Brock- 
 den Brown, the novelist, and Joseph Dennie, the 
 critic. The wherefore of a national literature is 
 not explicable in brief. The opening of the nine- 
 teenth century seems to have given promise of such 
 a thing in America, and John Davis saw something 
 of that. He and his learned friend, Mr. George, 
 who said, "Where are their poets?" stated the 
 pro and con for the year 1799, but Davis was in 
 the right, whether from wisdom, tolerance, or 
 merely because he took the other side. 
 
 A certain importance attaches to the beginning 
 of a century, and the Traveller is on the whole 
 fortunate whose notes are made around the rotund 
 zero years. It is a distinction to have seen (year 
 1800) the author of Arthur Mervyn at work, 
 " embodying virtue in a new novel," to have been 
 commended, and also abased, by " that Mammoth 
 of Hterature," the Editor of the Portfolio, to have 
 maintained a literary correspondence, (year 1801 
 — superscriptions, Long Island and Virginia), full 
 of Pope and the Augustan age, and to have been a 
 spectator at the inauguration of the Federal City. 
 It appears that John Davis was the originator of 
 a Jefferson legend that has persisted a hundred 
 years. And he was the first of the many who, by 
 the interstitial work of fancy, have made of Cap- 
 tain John Smith's story a romance.. 
 
 The author of these travels walked, with occa- 
 sional recourse to the stage-coach, the horse, or the 
 sloop ; he seems to have been the sole traveller of 
 
vi 
 
 that time who walked through a great part of the 
 fifteen States. As between the vehicle and foot- 
 passengership there was perhaps no great dissimi- 
 larity in the data offering for observation, but the 
 pedestrian must be individual and if he is bookish 
 as well the record of his journeys is apt to give the 
 suggestion of a personality; that is to say, the im- 
 pressionist writer is usually bookish, and if, being 
 on his travels, he chooses for any reason that mode 
 of transit best fitting his character, the result will 
 likely be a more permanent expression of the man. 
 John Davis believed that, and his own assertion 
 may recommend his book: "This Volume will 
 regale curiosity while man continues to be in- 
 fluenced by his senses and affections." * 
 
 John Davis was a vagrant from his youth, and 
 is an interesting figure quite apart from the sig- 
 nificance of his activities as international author 
 and observer of young America — it is not to be 
 expected that a seaman will learn the French of 
 books, then Latin, and then become a producing 
 man of letters. In the preface to one of his 
 novels, {First Settlers of Virginia, 1805), the au- 
 thor supplies information regarding his career, 
 which no doubt after 1806 was that of a London 
 journalist and book-maker. He was born at Salis- 
 bury, Wiltshire, in the year 1776, and was ' reared 
 in the lap of opulence.' He was never at school, 
 
 [* The last chapter of this book, an appendix, has been 
 omitted. It was discreetly abridged by the author in his 
 second edition, being merely a heightened log of his voyage 
 from Baltimore to Cowes in the Isle of Wight. The remainder 
 of the text is entire. Supplied footnotes have been enclosed 
 in brackets, as this.] 
 
Vll 
 
 going to sea from romantic motives at the 
 age of eleven: he had read the story of Robert 
 Drury, the story of Captain Richard Falconer, 
 and other books which fired his imaginations. 
 His first voyage was in 1787, to China and 
 the Dutch Indies; his second (1790) to Bombay, 
 in the Worcester, Captain Hall. Off the high 
 land of Chaul the ship was attacked by pirates of 
 Angria. The Worcester was taking out a hundred 
 John Company's recruits. 
 
 " Among these was a German, Oberstien, of dis- 
 sipated fortune, but elegant education. Now did 
 my mind first catch a ray of intellectual light : now 
 was it ordained I should not be all my life illiterate. 
 I began to learn French under Oberstien between 
 the tropics ; in my watch upon deck my station was 
 in the main top, to haul down the top gallant stud- 
 ding sail at the approach of a squall, or to go up 
 and hand the royal. For our top gallant masts 
 were fidded, and our royal yards rigged across. 
 When the boatswain's mate piped Starbowlines, I 
 walked up the main rigging into the top. I always 
 put Le Sage in my pocket; and in the maintop of 
 an East Indianman, under a cloudless tropical sky, 
 when the breeze was so steady that for days we 
 had no occasion to start either tack or sheet, I 
 began to cultivate the language of the court of 
 Lewis the fourteenth. 
 
 " I was several months on shore at Bombay. I 
 lodged at the country tavern. It was kept by Mr. 
 Loudwick, and shaded with cocoa nut and bananna 
 trees. My landlord had a complete set of Euro- 
 pean magazines; I rather devoured than read 
 
Vlll 
 
 them ; and it is to the perusal of these volumes that 
 I ascribe that love of belles lettres which has always 
 made me loath the mathematicks and other crab- 
 bed sciences. 
 
 "Neither Mr. Loudwick nor Mrs. Loudwick 
 could talk English. I now thanked my stars that 
 I had learnt French in the maintop of the Worces- 
 ter, and conversed with my host and hostess in 
 their own idiom. 
 
 " From Bombay we went twice down the Mal- 
 abar coast, anchoring at every port. I landed at 
 Cochin where Camoens wrote his Lusiad, and at 
 Anjengo, where Eliza was born ; * and I was en- 
 gaged in the reduction of Cannanore under Gen- 
 eral Abercrombie, In our passage home I landed 
 at the Cape of Good Hope." 
 
 Returning to Salisbury with a love of literature 
 enkindled, Davis directed his attention to the 
 family library, ' a room full of books.' His 
 pleasure in reading an English book was dimin- 
 ished by not knowing the sources of its classical 
 allusions, of which he could be no judge of the 
 propriety or efficacy. By a happy fortune he hit 
 upon Mant's Phaedrus, with a parsing index, which 
 ' strewed flowers in his road, and obtained him the 
 rewards of study without its toils.' 
 
 " In the beginning of 1793 I was sent into the 
 navy. In the Active frigate, Capt. Nagle I 
 went to the Orkneys, Cadiz, and into the Elbe. 
 Being turned over with the ship's company to the 
 Artois (her former commander lord Charles 
 
 * See Sterne's Letters to Eliza, and Raynals' Apostrophe to 
 Anjengo. 
 
ix 
 
 Fitzgerald was given the command of the Bruns- 
 wick, seventy-four) I belonged a year and a half to 
 a flying squadron of frigates; namely the Pomone, 
 Sir John Borlase Warren, the Arethusa, Sir Ed- 
 ward Pellew, and the Diamond, Sir Sidney Smith. 
 Our cruizing ground was the coast of France, and 
 our port of rendezvous was Falmouth. 
 
 " The Artois was the fastest sailing frigate of the 
 squadron. She could sail round the others. No 
 ship could touch her, whether going large, or close 
 hauled. We were always first up with the chase; 
 and on the twenty-first of October, 1794, after an 
 action close, vigorous, and persevering, the Revo- 
 lutionndre French frigate hauled down her colors 
 to the Artois. Captain Nagle was knighted by 
 his Majesty for the action. 
 
 " In 1798 I embarked in a small brig, at Bristol, 
 for the United States. I had before made some 
 progress in Greek, and begun the study of the 
 language of harmony, with the Father of Poetry, 
 and the Bible of the Ancients. In Latin I had 
 looked into every writer of the Julian and Augus- 
 tan ages; the study of French had always been to 
 me like the cracking of nuts ; and in my vernacular 
 idiom I had neglected no writer from Bunyan to 
 Bolingbroke. Lowth had put me au fait of all 
 the critical niceties of grammar; and when I read 
 it was always with an eye to new combinations of 
 diction. 
 
 " I translated at New York Buonaparte's Cam- 
 paign in Italy, a considerable octavo, and pro- 
 ceeded to the South. I now experienced the ad- 
 vantage of having educated myself. By impart- 
 
X 
 
 ing what I knew of English, French and Latin to 
 others, I was enabled to gratify my disposition to 
 travel, and to subsist comfortably. 
 
 " In 1802 I returned to England. I proceeded 
 to London where my time was divided between 
 pleasure and literature. I published a large vol- 
 ume of my own peregrinations. I wrote an Ameri- 
 can tale called Walter Kennedy, a Life of Chat- 
 terton, and a novel entitled The Wooden Walls 
 Well Manned, or a Picture of a British Frigate. * 
 
 " In the winter of 1804 I returned to America. 
 Our passage in the Cotton Planter was a rough 
 
 *The author's books and translations, published in the 
 United States, are as follows: 
 
 1) Campaigns of Buonoparte in Italy. New York. H. 
 Caritat. 1798. 
 
 2) Ferdinand and Elizabeth. New York. H. Caritat. 1798. 
 
 3) Poems. Charleston. 1799. 
 
 4) Farmer of New Jersey. New York. Printed by Fur- 
 man and Loudon. 1800. 70 pp. 
 
 5) Wanderings of William. Philadelphia. R. T. Rawle. 
 1801. xii-299 PP- 
 
 6) Poems. New York. H. Caritat. 1801. 
 
 7) The First Settlers of Virginia : an historical novel. 2nd 
 ed. New York. G. Riley & Co. 1805. xii-284 pp. 
 
 8) Berquin-Duvallon : Travels (1802) in Louisiana and the 
 Floridas. New York. G. Riley. 1806. viii-i8i pp. 
 
 9) Life and Campaigns of Victor Moreau. New York. 
 David Bliss. 56 Maiden Lane. 1806. 
 
 10) Captain Smith and Princess Pocahontas. Philadelphia. 
 B. Warner. 1817. iv-90 pp. 
 
 The Travels of Four Years and a Half, &c. was issued at 
 London in an amended edition, 1817, 'For J. Davis, Military 
 Chronicle office. 14 Charlotte St., Bloomsbury.' 
 
 The author's last book appears to have been " The American 
 Mariners, or the Atlantic Voyage : a Moral Poem. Prefixed 
 is a vindication of the American character from the Aspersions 
 of the Quarterly Reviewers &c." Salisbury. 1822.] 
 
xi 
 
 one. I never witnessed severer gales. It was 
 necessary to keep the broad axe sharp, when the 
 ship was lying to, in case she should go on her 
 beam ends; that we might cut away her weather 
 rigging or the masts, in order to enable her to get 
 upon her legs again. 
 
 " And now to the keeping of that Great Being, 
 whose protecting arm extends over land and sea, I 
 commend myself and my readers." 
 
 A. J. M. 
 
TRAVELS 
 
 OP 
 
 FOUR YEARS AND A HALF 
 
 IN THE 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA; 
 
 Puking 1798^ 1799, 1800> 18Q1> and 1802. 
 
 DEDICATED BY PERMISSION TO 
 
 THOMAS JEBFERSON, Esq, 
 
 FRESIQENT OP THE tJNlTED STATES. 
 
 By JOHN DAVIS, 
 
 Jc ne connais sur la machine rdnde 
 Rien que deux peuples differens : 
 Savoir lea honunes boos, & les hommes mechantd. 
 
 BEADMARCBAtS« 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SOXb BY t. OSTELt, AVE-MARIA-LANB, AND T. HURSt^ 
 PATER-NOSTER-ROW J B. DUGDALE, AND J. JOlTBS^ 
 OVBLIN ; AND H. CARITAT, NEW-YORK J 
 
 %. EDWARDS^ PRINTER, BROAD-STREET, BRISTOL. 
 
 1803. 
 
Banks of the Occoquan 
 August 31, 1801. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 IN frequent journeyings through your country, I have 
 made remarks on the character, the customs and manners 
 of the people; these remarks I purpose to systematize into 
 a Volume, and to you I should be happy to be allowed 
 the honour of dedicating them. The object of my specula- 
 tions has been Human Nature ; speculations that will lead 
 the reader to the contemplation of his own manners, and 
 enable him to compare his condition with that of other 
 men. 
 
 In my uncertain peregrinations, I have entered with 
 equal interest the mud-hut of the negro, and the log- 
 house of the planter; I have alike communed with the 
 slave who wields the hoe, and the task-master who im- 
 poses his labour. My motto has been invariably Homo 
 sum! humani nihil a me alienum putOj and after saying 
 this, whatever I were to say more, would be idle declama- 
 tion. 
 
 / am, SIR, 
 Your most obedient, most humble Servant, 
 
 JOHN DAVIS 
 
 THOMAS JEFFERSON, Esg. 
 President of the United States 
 of America, Monticello, 
 Virginia. 
 
MONTICELLO, September g, 1801. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I received duly your letter of August 31, in ivhich you 
 do me the honour to propose to dedicate to me the ivork 
 you are about to publish. Such a testimony of respect 
 from an enlightened Foreigner cannot but be flattering 
 to me, and I have only to regret that the choice of the 
 patron will be little likely to give circulation to the work; 
 its own merit however will supply that defect. 
 
 Should you in your journeyings have been led to re- 
 mark on the same objects on which I gave crude notes 
 some years ago, I shall be happy to see them confirmed or 
 corrected by a more accurate observer. 
 
 I pray you to accept the assurances of 
 
 my respect and consideration. 
 
 TH: JEFFERSON 
 
 Mr. Davis, 
 
 Occoquan, Virginia. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 H AVING employed four years and a half in travelling 
 through the Southern States of 'North America, I was 
 about to return home content with regulating imagination 
 by reality, when the accidental perusal of those Travellers 
 who had journeyed over the same ground, determined me 
 to become a publisher. Of these some want taste, and 
 others literature; some incapable of observation, count 
 with profound gravity the number of miles from place to 
 place; and others, intent only upon feeding, supply a bill 
 of fare. A family likeness prevails through the whole. 
 Their humour bears no proportion to their morbid drow- 
 siness. We are seldom relieved from the langour of in- 
 difference, or the satiety of disgust ; but in toiling through 
 volumes of diffusive mediocrity, the reader commonly 
 terminates his career by falling asleep with the writer. 
 
 In comparing this Volume with the volumes of my 
 predecessors, the reader will find himself exempt from 
 various persecutions. 
 
 1. I make no mention of my dinner, whether it was 
 fish or flesh, boiled or roasted, hot or cold. 
 
 2. I never complain of my bed, nor fill the imagination 
 of the reader with mosquitoes, fleas, bugs, and other noc- 
 turnal pests. 
 
 3. I make no drawings of old castles, old churches, old 
 pent-houses, and old walls, which, undeserving of repair, 
 have been abandoned by their possessors. Let them be 
 sacred to the Welch Tourist, the Scotch Tourist, and id 
 genus omne. 
 
6 
 
 4- In treating common subjects, I do not accumulate 
 magnificent epithets, and lose myself in figures. 
 
 That this Volume will regale curiosity while man con- 
 tinues to be influenced by his senses and affections, I have 
 very little doubt. It will be recurred to with equal in- 
 terest on the banks of the Thames, and those of the Ohio. 
 There is no man who is not pleased in being told by an- 
 other what he thought of the world, and what the world 
 thought of him. This kind of biography, when charac- 
 terized by simplicity and truth, has more charms for the 
 multitude than a pompous history of the intrigues of 
 courts, the negotiations of statesmen, and the devastation 
 of armies. 
 
 The Memoirs of Franklin the printer, come more home 
 to my feelings than the History of Sir Robert W alpole's 
 Administration. I behold the concluding page of the one 
 with the same eye of sorrow, that the Traveller in the 
 woods of America casts upon the sun's departing ray; but 
 the other is task-reading, and, in perusing it, I consult 
 more the taste of the public, than my own disposition. 
 Yet even Franklin studied his ease in with-holding his 
 Memoirs from the world till he was beyond the reach of 
 its censure; and I know no writers of eminence who have 
 ventured to encounter the malice of ridicule by the pub- 
 lication of their own biography, but Wakefield whose loss 
 the sons of learning are yet deploring, and Kotzebue who 
 is still holding the mirror up to nature. 
 
 There are some who would conceal the situation to 
 which my exigencies reduced me in America; but I should 
 blush to be guilty of such ridiculous pride ; and let the in- 
 solence of those who scorn an honest calling be repressed 
 by remembering, that the time is not very remote when 
 all conditions will be levelled; when the celebrated and 
 obscure, the powerful and weak, shall all sink alike into 
 one common grave. 
 
 Though my mode of life has not been favourable to the 
 
7 
 
 cultivation of an elegant style, yet in what relates to the 
 structure of my sentences, I shall not fear competition 
 with those who have reposed from their youth under the 
 shade of Academic bowers. He who can have recourse to 
 the critical prefaces of Dry den, the voluble periods of 
 sotij the nervous sentences of Johnson, and the felicitous 
 antitheses of Goldsmith, may spare himself the trouble of 
 seeking that purity and decoration of language in a Col- 
 lege, which may be found in his closet.* 
 
 In the progress of my work it will be discovered that 
 I have not joined myself to that frantic crew of Deists, 
 who would prostrate every institution, human or divine; 
 and, though I dedicate my book to a republican, it is not 
 the magistrate but the man, whom I address. I am no 
 republican! No federalist! I have learned to estimate 
 rightly the value of the British Constitution ; and I think 
 no system of government so perfect as that of King, Lords, 
 and Commons. 
 
 A word more before I conclude. Should the critic de- 
 
 * While contemporary writers were wandering in imagina- 
 tion with Ulysses and ^neas, and growing giddy with the 
 violence of poetical tempests, I was performing a sailor's duty 
 in a ship of nine hundred tons, and encountering the gales of 
 the promontory of Africa. 
 
 I have visited many places in the eastern section of the 
 globe. I have been twice in India. I am familiar with St. 
 Helena, and Batavia, and Johanna, and Bombay, and Tilli- 
 cherry, and Goa, and Cochin, and Anjengo. I was four 
 months at Canton; and I have toiled up the Table Mountain 
 at the Cape of Good Hope. 
 
 Let me be forgiven this impulse a me faire valoir. It is what 
 every small Traveller does. Behold the Welch Tourist! He 
 crosses the New Ferry, enters the ale-house on its border — 
 calls for pen and ink — lugs out his enormous common-place 
 book — awes the family into silence by the profound wisdom 
 of his looks — and solemnly sits down to fill a solemn chapter 
 with the tempests that harassed him in navigating the 
 SEVERN ! I ! 
 
8 
 
 tect the vanity that not infrequently swells my periods, 
 let him be assured that he cannot be more sensible of it 
 than I. When a man becomes the historiographer of his 
 own actions, he can scarcely avoid this error without de- 
 generating into the opposite one of affected diffidence. I 
 have often caught myself making my own panegyric; the 
 fact is indisputable; yet it is still better to be vain than 
 dull. 
 
 ERRATA 
 
 \_Retained as in original Bdition.'\ 
 
 Page 30-32, dele the Elegy, because neither gods, nor men, 
 nor the stall of the bookseller, can tolerate mediocrity in 
 poetry. 
 
 P, 67, for irrevalent r. irrelative. P. 73, for stagnant r. 
 turbid. P. 114, for banks r. bank. P. 116, dele who. P. 204, 
 for Centryphon r. Trypho. P. 208, for libere r. bibere. P. 257, 
 for midnight r. balmy. P. 308, for Ominia r. Omnia. 
 
TRAVELS &C 
 
 VOYAGE from BRISTOL to NEW-YORK 
 
 Having formed the resolution of visiting 
 the United States, I repaired, December 
 15, 1797, from Salisbury to Bristol, with a 
 view of embarking on board a Snow of two 
 hundred tons, which lay at the Quay, and was 
 bound to New-York. The Captain had pur- 
 posed to sail the 20th of the same month, but 
 it was not before January 7th of the new year, 
 that the vessel moved from the wharf, when 
 the spring-tide enabled her to proceed down 
 the river. 
 
 For my passage, which was in the steerage, 
 I had paid seven guineas to the merchants 
 who chartered the vessel, and my mess, which 
 was with two young gentlemen of my ac- 
 quaintance, cost me only three pounds more. 
 But, with this money, besides provisions, we 
 purchased a stove, which, during the voyage, 
 was a treasure to us. It not only fortified us 
 against the cold, but we cooked our victuals 
 upon it; and the drawer which was designed 
 to hold the ashes, made an admirable oven. 
 
10 
 
 Hence there was never any occasion for us 
 to have recourse to the caboose; but, on the 
 contrary, v^hen the frequent gales of vs^ind 
 which we experienced caused the sea to break 
 over the vessel, the cabin-boy solicited leave 
 to dress his dinner on our fire. In relating 
 these circumstances, I must claim the indulg- 
 ence of the reader not to rank me among the 
 courtiers of Alcinous; men, fruges consumere 
 nati. My only motive is to suggest to the 
 enterprising traveller at how small an expence 
 he may be enabled to cross the Atlantic. 
 
 The cabin was by no means an enviable 
 place. It offered neither accommodation nor 
 society. Its passengers consisted of an Uni- 
 tarian priest and family, and two itinerant 
 merchants. The steerage groupe was com- 
 posed of a good, jolly, Somersetshire farmer 
 and his housekeeper, who were going to settle 
 in Pennsylvania, of the two young gentlemen 
 I have already mentioned, and myself. Hav- 
 ing repeatedly crossed the Equator, and 
 doubled the Cape of Good Hope, there is no 
 occasion for me to say that the ocean was 
 familiar to me; and that, while the other 
 passengers were sick and dejected, I was in 
 health and good spirits. To the roll of the 
 vessel I was fully accustomed; but my com- 
 panions not having gotten their sea legs on 
 board, tumbled grievously about the decks. 
 The library which I had brought with me. 
 
1 1 
 
 consisted of nearly three hundred volumes, 
 and would have endeared me to any place. 
 The Muses, whom I never ceased to woo, 
 blessed me, I thought, not infrequently, with 
 their nightly visitations; and I soothed my 
 mind to tranquillity with the fancied harmony 
 of my verse, 
 
 Ridentur mala qui componunt carmina: verum 
 Gaudent scribentes, et se venerantur, et ultro. 
 Si taceaSj laudant; quidquid scripsere, beati. 
 
 HoR.* 
 
 Being an old sailor, I had provided myself 
 with a cot, which, by making me insensible 
 to the roll of the vessel, would, I thought, 
 render my sleep more tranquil and undis- 
 turbed than a cabin. But I cannot say my 
 slumbers the first night were very soft; for, 
 hanging in the wake of the hatchway, the 
 breeze from the deck made my situation very 
 unpleasant. Foreseeing also that I was ex- 
 posed to the deluge of every sea the brig 
 should ship on the passage, I unhung my cot, 
 and put it into a spare fore and aft cabin, 
 which, to my satisfaction, I found, afterwards, 
 was the only dry one in the steerage. The 
 wind being favourable on getting under 
 weigh, we profited from the occasion by 
 shaking out the reefs, and shewing all our 
 canvass to the breeze. 
 
 [*Epist., II, 2, io6.] 
 
12 
 
 The old housekeeper, the very type of 
 Dame Leonarda in Gil BlaSj was the first 
 among the passengers that began to hold up 
 her head; and the fourth day of our voyage 
 she murdered an old hen to regale a poor 
 sick gentleman, who thought he could relish 
 some chicken broth. We had scarcely been 
 out a week, when we experienced a gale of 
 wind that was not less disastrous than tre- 
 mendous. A sea which broke over the 
 quarter washed a hencoop from its lashing, 
 and drowned nearly three dozen of fowls. 
 But it is an ill wind that blows nobody any 
 good. The sailors made the fowls into an 
 huge sea-pye of three decks, which they called 
 the United States Man of War, and fed on 
 it eagerly. 
 
 There was a carter in the vessel, who came 
 on board to work his passage ; but he did very 
 little work. Whenever a porpoise or even a 
 gull was visible, he considered it the presage 
 of a storm, and became himself invisible till 
 it was over. A report being circulated that 
 the rats had left the vessel when in harbour, 
 Coster Pearman concluded that they had done 
 it by instinct; and, as an opinion prevails 
 among sailors that a ship, on such an event, 
 never gets safe to her port of desination, the 
 booby gave himself up for lost. But hearing 
 one night a rat scratch against the vessel's 
 side, he ran upon deck in his shirt to proclaim 
 
13 
 
 it to the sailors, calling out with a joyful tone 
 of voice, " Whoa! hoa! hoa! a rat! a rat! " 
 
 The two Brothers was a miserably sailing 
 tub, and her passage a most tedious one. 
 Head winds constantly prevailed, and scarcely 
 a week elapsed without our lying-to more 
 than once. To scud her was impracticable, 
 as she would not steer small, and several times 
 the Captain thought she was going to founder. 
 Her cargo, which consisted of mill stones and 
 old iron, made her strain so with rolling, that 
 incessant pumping could hardly keep her free. 
 She seemed to be fitted out by the parish; 
 there was not a rope on board strong enough 
 to hang a cat with. She had only one suit 
 of sails, not a single spar, and her cordage 
 was old. If a sail was split by the wind, there 
 was no other alternative but to mend it; and 
 when, after being out six weeks, we had 
 sprung our fore top mast, we were compelled 
 to reef it. The same day, I remember, we 
 fell in with a schooner from New York, which 
 we spoke. It was on the i8th of February. 
 She was bound to St. Sebastian. The seamen 
 being employed, I volunteered my services 
 to pull an oar on board her, which were read- 
 ily accepted. Her Captain received us po- 
 litely, and regaled us with some cyder. She 
 had left port only a fortnight; but it took the 
 ill-fated Two Brothers a month to get thither. 
 We parted with regret. The Captain of her 
 
14 
 
 was of a social, friendly disposition. As to our 
 own skipper, he was passionately fond of visit- 
 ing every vessel that he saw on the passage. 
 If an old salt fish schooner hove in sight, he 
 clamoured for his boarding-boots, and swore 
 he would go to her if it were only to obtain 
 a pint of molasses. Once, having hailed a 
 vessel, he was justly rebuked. He told the 
 Captain of her he would hoist out his boat 
 and go to see him; but the man not approv- 
 ing, I suppose, his physiognomy, hauled aft 
 his sheets and bore round up before the wind. 
 The skipper had contracted these habits dur- 
 ing the American war, when he commanded 
 a small privateer; and he could not in his 
 old age reclaim the foibles of his youth. 
 
 As we increased our longitude, the priest, 
 in examining his barrels of white biscuit, 
 found one of them emptied by other hands 
 than his own. Suspicion fell on a sailor, 
 whom he one day accused before the passen- 
 gers, as he was standing at the helm. Did 
 you not steal my biscuit, sirrah!" said the 
 parson. " I did. Sir," answered the fellow. 
 " And what, pray, can you say in defence of 
 yourself?" "Why, Sir, I can say— that 
 when I crossed the Line, Neptune made me 
 swear I would never eat brown bread when 
 I could get white; and your barrel of white 
 stood next my barrel of brown/' This reply 
 of the sailor was so happy and unexpected, 
 
15 
 
 that to remain grave exceeded all powers of 
 face. The roar of the sea was lost in the 
 combined laughter that arose from the Cap- 
 tain, passengers, and ship's company. Farmer 
 Curtis, whom the tythes exacted from him 
 by the parson of his parish had nearly ruined, 
 now revenged himself on the cloth by a peal 
 of laughter that shook the ship from stem to 
 stern; not even the priest could refrain from 
 a smile; though, perhaps, it was rather a sar- 
 donic grin; a distortion of the countenance, 
 without any gladness of heart. 
 
 On the 8th of March, we saw the Isles of 
 Sile, and three days after weathered the 
 breakers of Nantucket; from whence, coasting 
 to the southward, we made Long Island, and 
 ran up to Sandy Hook. The wind subsiding, 
 we let go our anchor, and the next morning, at 
 an early hour, I accompanied the Captain and 
 two of the cabin passengers on shore. It was 
 Sunday, March i8th. 
 
 On the parched spot, very properly called 
 Sandy Hook, we found only one human hab- 
 itation, which was a public house. The fam- 
 ily consisted of an old woman, wife to the 
 landlord, two young girls of homely appear- 
 ance, a negro man and boy. While breakfast 
 was preparing, I ascended, with my com- 
 panions, the light house, which stood on the 
 point of the Hook. It was lofty, and well 
 furnished with lamps. On viewing the land 
 
i6 
 
 round the dwelling of our host, I could not 
 help thinking that he might justly exclaim 
 with Selkirk: 
 
 " I'm monarch of all I survey, 
 
 My right there is none to dispute, 
 From the centre all round to the sea, 
 I am lord of the fowl and the brute." 
 
 The morning passed away not unpleasantly. 
 The vivacity of the Captain enlivened our 
 breakfast, which was prolonged nearly till 
 noon; nor do I think we should have then 
 risen 'from table, had not the Mate, who was 
 left in charge of the snow, like a good seaman, 
 hove short, and loosened his sails in readiness 
 to avail himself of the breeze which had 
 sprung up in our favour. The Captain, 
 therefore, clamoured for the bill, and finished 
 his last bowl of grog with the favorite toast 
 of Here's to the wind that blows, the ship that 
 goes, and the lass that loves a sailor. 
 
 In our progress to the town, we passed a 
 British frigate lying at anchor. It was sun- 
 set, and the roll of the spirit-stirring drum 
 brought to my recollection those scenes, 
 that pomp, pride, and circumstance of glori- 
 ous war, that makes ambition virtue.* We 
 moored our vessel to one of the wharfs, and 
 I rejoiced to find myself on a kindred shore. 
 
 ♦.Shakespeare. 
 
17 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Pursuits at New-Ybrk. Interview with Mr. Burr. 
 A Walk to Philadelphia. A Tribute to James 
 Logan. Yellow Fever desolating the City. 
 Embark for South-Carolina. 
 
 Upon my landing at New-York, my first 
 care was to deliver a letter of recommen- 
 dation which I had been favoured with by 
 a friend to a merchant in the city; together 
 with a volume of Travels from Boston to 
 Philadelphia, which he had recently pub- 
 lished.* But I cannot say that I was received 
 with the urbanity I had anticipated. Neither 
 my friend's letter, nor his book, could soften 
 the features of the stern American; and were 
 the world to read the volume with as little 
 interest as he, it would soon be consigned to 
 the peaceful shelf. 
 
 I was now to become the architect of my 
 own fortune. Though on a kindred shore, 
 I had not even an acquaintance to whom I 
 could communicate my projects; the letter 
 had failed me that was to decide my fortune 
 at one blow, and I found myself solitary and 
 sad among the crouds of a gay city. 
 
 [* Journal of an Excursion to the United States of North 
 America in the Summer of I794- By Henry Wansey, F. A. S. 
 Salisbury, 1796.] 
 
i8 
 
 But I was not long depressed by melan- 
 choly reflections over my condition, for I 
 found a friend in a man, who, having himself 
 been unfortunate, could feel for another in 
 adversity. A concurrence of circumstances 
 had brought me into the company of Mr. 
 Caritat* a bookseller, who, being made ac- 
 quainted with my situation, addressed me with 
 that warmth, which discovers a desire to be 
 useful, rather than a wish to gratify curi- 
 osity. 
 
 He inquired into my projects. I told him 
 that my scheme was to get into some family 
 as a private tutor. A private Tutor! said he. 
 Alas! the labour of Sisyphus in hell is not 
 equal to that of a private Tutor in America! 
 Why your project puts me in mind of young 
 Mr. Primrose. And your exclamations, said 
 I, remind me of his cousin in London. Just 
 enough, rejoined Mr. Caritat, and let me ex- 
 amine you a little after the manner of his 
 cousin. 
 
 Do you write a good hand, and understand 
 all the intricacies of calculation? No. Then 
 you will not do for a private Tutor. It is 
 not your Latin and Greek, but your hand- 
 writing and cyphering, that will decide your 
 
 [* This was H. Caritat, of the title page, who later removed 
 to Paris. Cf. Sabin, No. 5205. Bibliotheque Americaine & 
 I'analyse des ouvrages scientifiques de ce pays, ainsi que de 
 ceux des Europeens qui y ont voyage &. Paris; Caritat et 
 Barrois Fils. 1807. 3 vols.] 
 
19 
 
 character. Penmanship, and the figures of 
 arithmetic, will recommend you more than 
 logic and the figures of rhetoric. Can you 
 passively submit to be called Schoolmaster by 
 the children, and Cool Mossa by the negroes? 
 No. Then you will not do for a private 
 Tutor. Can you comply with the humility 
 of giving only one rap at the door that the 
 family may distinguish it is the Private 
 Tutor; and can you wait half an hour with 
 good humour on the steps, till the footman or 
 housemaid condescends to open the door? 
 No. Then you will not do for a private 
 Tutor. Can you maintain a profound silence 
 in company to denote your inferiority; and 
 can you endure to be helped always the last 
 at table, aye even after the clerk of the count- 
 ing-house? No. Then you will not do for 
 a private Tutor. Can you hold your eyes 
 with your hands, and cry Amen! when grace 
 is said; and can you carry the childrens' bibles 
 and prayer-books to church twice every Sun- 
 day? No. Then you will not do for a pri- 
 vate Tutor. Can you rise with the sun, and 
 teach till breakfast; swallow your breakfast, 
 and teach till dinner; devour your dinner, and 
 teach till tea-time; and from tea-time to bed- 
 time sink into insignificance in the parlour? 
 No. Then you will not do for a private 
 Tutor. Do you expect good wages? Yes. 
 Then you will never do for a private Tutor. 
 
20 
 
 No, sir, the place of private Tutor is the last 
 I would recommend you; for as Pompey, 
 when he entered a tyrant's dominions, quoted 
 a verse from Euripides that signified his lib- 
 erty was gone, so a man of letters, when he 
 undertakes the tuition of a family in America, 
 may exclaim he has lost his independence. 
 Though not a countryman of your's, continued 
 Mr. Caritat, I am from the same division of 
 the globe, for I was born and educated in 
 France. I should be happy to serve you, but 
 I have not the hypocrisy to pretend that my 
 offers of service are disinterested : interest 
 blends itself with all human actions, and you, 
 sir, have it in your power to be useful to me; 
 I know you are skilled in French, because I 
 have conversed with you in that language; 
 of your own idiom you also discover an in- 
 timate acquaintance. Vous etes done mon 
 homme. I have just imported Buonaparte's 
 campaign in Italy, from Bourdeaux, and the 
 people are eager for a translation. Will you 
 undertake the task? Will you translate the 
 work for two hundred dollars? This is not 
 the land of literature; booksellers in this 
 country are not the patrons of authors, and 
 therefore the remunerations for literary 
 labour are not munificent. But the notoriety 
 of Buonaparte will sell the work; and the 
 translation make your name known beyond 
 the mountains of the Blue Ridge. In a word, 
 
21 
 
 if you will translate the volume, I will pay 
 you two hundred dollars. 
 
 Less declamation would have made me un- 
 dertake the translation. I could hardly con- 
 ceal my transports ; and hugging the volume 
 to my breast I danced home to my lodgings. 
 
 I lodged with a young man, who called 
 himself a Physician, in Ferry-street, a mel- 
 ancholy alley impervious to the sun. Doctor 
 de Bow, however, in huge gilt letters, adorned 
 the entrance of the house: 
 
 "And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
 An alligator stufE'd and other skins 
 Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves 
 A beggarly account of empty boxes; 
 Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, 
 Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses 
 Were thinly scattered to make up a shew." * 
 
 Of the medical skill of the Doctor I cannot 
 pretend to judge ; but he had little or no prac- 
 tice in his profession, notwithstanding he 
 dressed in black, maintained a profound grav- 
 ity, and wore green spectacles on his nose. 
 
 While the Doctor was reading the Life of 
 Don Quixote, I was to be seen toiling at my 
 translation like Cruden at his Concordance. 
 The original was an octavo of four hundred 
 pages, and every time I opened the volume 
 it seemed to increase in bulk; but the golden 
 
 [* Romeo and Juliet, V, i, 42-48.] 
 
22 
 
 dream of reputation fortified my diligence, 
 and I corrected the proof-sheets with lively 
 sensibility. 
 
 Emolument, and an avidity of reputation, 
 are two powerful incentives to literary in- 
 dustry; and I prosecuted my translation with 
 so much diligence, that on the fourth of June 
 it was ushered into the literary world amidst 
 the acclamations of the Democrats, and the 
 revilings of the Federalists. This was to me 
 extraordinary, for I had professed myself of 
 neither party, but declared my intention never 
 to meddle with the politics of a country, in 
 which I had neither a fixed dwelling, nor 
 an acre of land. 
 
 About this period, my friend the Doctor 
 relinquished his house, and rented a little 
 medicinal shop of a Major Howe, who was 
 agreeably situated in Cherry-street. As the 
 Major took boarders, I accompanied the Doc- 
 tor to his house, determined to eat, drink, and 
 be merry over my two hundred dollars. With 
 some of the well-stampted coin I purchased 
 a few dozen of Madeira, and when the noon- 
 tide heat had abated, I quaffed the delicious 
 liquor with the Major and the Doctor under 
 a tree in the garden. 
 
 Major Howe, after carrying arms through 
 the revolutionary war, instead of reposing 
 upon the laurels he had acquired, was com- 
 pelled to open a boarding-house in N'ew-ror^, 
 
23 
 
 for the maintenance of his wife and children. 
 He was a member of the Cincinnati, and not a 
 little proud of his Eagle. But I thought the 
 motto to his badge of Omnia reliquit servare 
 Rempublicam, was not very appropriate; for 
 it is notorious that few Americans had much 
 to leave when they accepted commissions in 
 the army. Victor ad aratrum redit would 
 have been better. 
 
 In principles, my military friend was 
 avowedly a Deist, and by tracing the effect to 
 the cause, I shall expose the pernicious tend- 
 ency of a book which is read with avidity. 
 The Major was once commanding officer of 
 the fortress at West Point, and by accident 
 borrowed of a subaltern the history of the 
 Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. He 
 read the work systematically, and a diligent 
 perusal of that part which relates to the prog- 
 ress of Religion, caused him to become a 
 Sceptic, and reject all belief in revelation. 
 Before this period the Major was a constant 
 attendant on the Established Church, but he 
 now enlisted himself under the banners of 
 the Infidel Palmer, who delivers lectures on 
 Deism at New-York, and is securing for him- 
 self and followers considerable grants of land 
 in hell. 
 
 My translation introduced me to the ac- 
 quaintance of some distinguished characters 
 in New-York, and among others that caressed 
 
24 
 
 me was the celebrated Colonel Burr, who was 
 in the late election chosen for the office of 
 Vice-President of the United States. The 
 letters interspersed through this narrative will 
 show my intimacy with Mr. Burr, whom I 
 have seen in his social hour; and of whose 
 political character I am perhaps enabled to 
 give the prominent features. The slave of 
 no party, and unbiassed by personal affections, 
 my portrait shall be free as it is unprejudiced. 
 
 To a genius of singular perspicacity, Mr. 
 Burr joins the most bland and conciliating 
 manners. With a versatility of powers, of 
 which, perhaps, America furnishes no other 
 example, he is capable of yielding an undi- 
 vided attention to a single object of pursuit. 
 Hence we find him at the close of the Revolu- 
 tionary War, in which he took a very honour- 
 able part, and in the fatigues of which he bore 
 no common share, practising the law with un- 
 rivalled brilliancy and success. Indeed his 
 distinguished abilities attracted so decided a 
 leaning of the Judges in his favour, a deference 
 for his opinions so strongly marked, as to 
 excite in no small degree the jealousy of the 
 bar. So strong was the impression made by 
 the general respect for his opinions, that ex- 
 clamations of despair were frequently heard 
 to escape the lips of the Counsel whose fortune 
 it was to be opposed by the eloquence of Mr. 
 Burr. I am aware that this language wears 
 
25 
 
 the colour of panegyric ; but the recollections 
 which the facts must excite in the breasts 
 of his candid rivals, will corroborate its ac- 
 curacy. 
 
 For a short period Mr. Burr acted as 
 Attorney-General to the State; but his pro- 
 fessional reputation, already at the acme of 
 splendour, could derive no new lustre from 
 the office. It however should be remembered 
 that in State prosecutions, a disposition to 
 aggravate the enormities of the accused was 
 never attributed to him. 
 
 At length Mr. Burr was removed by the 
 Legislature of the State to the Senate of the 
 United States. The deliberations of that 
 body being conducted in secret, the public 
 possessed but slender means of knowing and 
 appreciating the merits of individual mem- 
 bers. But it is certain, from the lead he took 
 in some of its most important transactions, 
 and from the deference shewn his opinions 
 by his senatorial colleagues, that the character 
 for ability which he had previously acquired, 
 must have been there well sustained. It was, 
 indeed, universally acknowledged, that no 
 other State was so respectably represented as 
 the State of New-York, in the combined tal- 
 ents of Mr. Burr and Mr. King. 
 
 His time of service expiring, Mr. Burr 
 again returned to the exercise of his profes- 
 sion with a facility which would induce a 
 
26 
 
 belief that his legal pursuits had never been 
 interrupted. 
 
 Such are the outlines of the character of 
 the man who, cultivating literature himself, 
 loved to encourage it in others ; and v^ho, with 
 a condescension little known to patrons, 
 sought out my obscure lodgings in a populous 
 city, and invited me to his house. 
 
 I found Mr. Burr at breakfast, reading my 
 translation over his coffee. He received me 
 with that urbanity which, while it precludes 
 familiarity, banishes restraint; and discovered 
 by his conversation, that he was not less skilled 
 in elegant literature, than the science of 
 graciousness and attraction. 
 
 Mr. Burr introduced me to his daughter, 
 whom he has educated with uncommon care; 
 for she is elegant without ostentation, and 
 learned without pedantry. At the time that 
 she dances with more grace than any young 
 lady of New York, Miss Theodosia Burr 
 speaks French and Italian with facility, is 
 perfectly conversant with the writers of the 
 Augustan age, and not unacquainted with the 
 language of the Father of Poetry. Martel, 
 a Frenchman, has dedicated a volume of his 
 productions to Miss Burr, with the horatian 
 epithet of " dule decus/' * 
 
 [* Probably Michel Martel, who published at New York, 
 1791, Elements: New Essays on Education. A Selection 
 of Bon Mots &c.] 
 
27 
 
 Fortune had now opened to me les entrees 
 of the house of Mr. Burr, to whose table and 
 library I had the most unrestrained access. 
 But Mr. Burr did not stop here; he proposed 
 to me the study of the law, which I impru- 
 dently declined, and thus neglected to take 
 that flood in the tide of my affairs which led 
 immediately to fortune. A student of the 
 law could not have formed himself on a better 
 model than Mr. Burr; for at the same time 
 that he was perhaps the most skilled of any 
 man in the practice, he was also the most 
 eloquent: 
 
 Tov H^ano yXaoffffij? fxeXiroi yXvuiaov pesv avSr/. 
 
 The favorable reception given to the cam- 
 paign in Italy, of which the whole impression 
 was soon diffused through the different States 
 of the Union, animated Caritat with courage 
 for another publication; and few men knew 
 better how to gratify present curiosity, by 
 directing his attention to temporary subjects. 
 
 In the preceding winter an occurrence had 
 happened of which the public had not abated 
 their eagerness to know the particulars. A 
 German by the name of Ferdinand Lowen- 
 stoff had become enamoured of a young girl 
 named Elizabeth Falkenham, a native of New 
 York. Ferdinand was forty, but Elizabeth 
 had scarcely seen sixteen summers. Ferdi- 
 nand, notwithstanding the disparity of their 
 
28 
 
 years, found means to win the affections of 
 Elizabeth, who consented to marry him ; but 
 it was judged expedient to defer their mar- 
 riage till the return of Elizabeth's brother-in- 
 law, from Germany, who had left his child 
 under her care. In the meantime love pre- 
 vailed over prudence, and the lover unloosed 
 the virgin zone of his yielding fair. At 
 length the brother returned from Germany, 
 but would not consent to the marriage, and 
 to release himself from the importunities of 
 Ferdinand, confined his sister-in-law to her 
 chamber. The indignation of the lover was 
 inflamed, and to banish from his mind an 
 object whom he could not obtain, he married a 
 French lady from Guadaloupe, remarkable 
 for the beauty of her person, and the vivacity 
 of her conversation. But the charms of a 
 newer object, however lovely and eloquent, 
 could not obliterate the impression which 
 Elizabeth had made: he pined for her in 
 secret, and became a victim to melancholy. 
 
 In this harassed state of mind Ferdinand 
 continued some months, when a letter was 
 privately delivered him, in the superscription 
 of which he recognized the hand-writing of 
 Elizabeth. It was short but emphatical. I 
 am pregnant, and resolved on death!" 
 
 Ferdinand, far from discouraging, fortified 
 Elizabeth in her resolution by professing an 
 earnest desire himself to share her fate, and 
 
29 
 
 seek an oblivion also of his own woes in a 
 voluntary death. The reply to the letter in 
 which Ferdinand desires to die with this un- 
 happy girl, is an injunction to break without 
 delay his union with visible nature, to rush 
 before his Maker " with all his imperfections 
 on his head." It goes further; it proposes 
 to add the crime of murder to that of suicide. 
 
 " But why recal your resolution because of 
 " the child of my womb? Let it not see the 
 " light of a world that has nothing but misery 
 for its portion ; come to me this night ! Bring 
 "with thee poison! Bring with thee pistols! 
 " And when the clock strikes twelve we'll both 
 " become immortal! " 
 
 From this it is plain that Ferdinand was 
 at first held in suspense between contrary im- 
 pulses; but his mind was not long diverted 
 from its purpose, for contriving an interview 
 with Elizabeth the same night, he first shot 
 her with a pistol, and afterwards himself. 
 The fatal event took place at a house in the 
 Bowery, where the lovers were found welter- 
 ing in their blood, and letters explaining the 
 motive of their rash conduct were placed on 
 a table. Such deliberate suicide was perhaps, 
 unexampled, and the letters that had passed 
 between the unhappy pair, I dilated into a 
 volume, which Caritat published to the emolu- 
 ment of us both, and, I hope, without injury 
 to the world. 
 
30 
 
 Far be it from me to insult over the ashes 
 of the dead; but I consider it a species of 
 moral obligation to make mention that Ferdi- 
 nand was not only insensible to all the purposes 
 of piety, but rejected all belief in Revelation. 
 Let the reader impress this circumstance on 
 his mind ; let him contemplate the wretched- 
 ness of Deistical principles. Had he given 
 to piety an early ascendancy over his heart, he 
 might have withheld Elizabeth from plungng 
 into the vale of misery ; he would have sounded 
 in her ears the holy admonition, Return and 
 live, for why wilt thou die! 
 
 To the memory of these unfortunate lovers 
 I wrote an elegy, which, produced from sym- 
 pathy for their fate, may, perhaps, excite the 
 softer emotions in the breasts of my readers. 
 
 ELEGY to the Memory of FERDINAND and 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 WHERE wand'ring ghosts their vigils keep at night, 
 
 And dance terrific by the moon's pale light; 
 
 Where gloomy yews their sable branches wave, 
 
 And cast their shadow o'er the rising grave, 
 
 Together rest in death's profound repose 
 
 These hapless victims to love's tender woes. 
 
 That form which once with every charm was blest, 
 To touch the heart, and break the gazer's rest ; 
 Those eyes that sparkled once with love's bright fire. 
 That voice which sung responsive to the lyre: 
 That face which once, with sweetly-soothing smiles, 
 Beam'd forth expression, and displayed its wiles, 
 
31 
 
 Now lifeless rests beneath the clay-cold ground, 
 O'er which grim spectres take their nightly round; 
 Where the hoarse raven flaps his leaden wing, 
 Where Philomel was never heard to sing, 
 But where the owl, with melancholy strain, 
 Does to the moon in solitude complain. 
 
 O! you, whose breasts have felt the pangs of love, 
 If e'er my verse your sympathy could move, 
 Here give your sorrows ; o'er the ashes weep 
 Of these sad lovers, locked in death's cold sleep. 
 
 Sunk are those hearts that once with vivid glow. 
 Melted in mutual tenderness of woe; 
 Clos'd are the eyes that, bright with living fire, 
 Spoke the sweet eloquence of soft desire : 
 Mute are those lips, that oft-times would disclose 
 The moving story of impending woes : 
 Now lifeless rest, yet bleeding from the wound. 
 This hapless pair beneath the mould'ring ground. 
 
 Ah ! cruel brother of a charge too good, 
 'Twas you who caus'd this pair to shed their blood, 
 To seek an end to weight of human woe, 
 To plunge despairing in the vale below. 
 To court a death that weeping crowds lament. 
 Ah! could not beauty make thy soul relent? 
 Could not the plaints of love once reach thy heart? 
 Could not the weeping eye a grief impart ? 
 Could not Eliza's voice thy pity move ; 
 But, must her choice thy furious lips reprove? 
 Oh! when thy eyes death's horrid form shall meet, 
 And when thy hearse moves slowly through the street, 
 May not a tear thy memory demand. 
 But call reproaches from this gen'rous land! 
 A land, where love's inflicting power extends. 
 Where the proud youth at beauty's altar bends; 
 Where the muse smiles, when Barlow* strikes the lyre. 
 In bold sublimity of epic fire. 
 
 [*Joel Barlow, author of the Vision of Columbus.'] 
 
32 
 
 Yet shall each muse her tuneful tribute bring, 
 Sweep the sad harp, and mournful touch the string ; 
 Rehearse the woes that mingled with their love, 
 And ev'ry heart to tears of sorrow move. 
 
 Ye swains and nymphs, with health and beauty crown' d, 
 Scarce let your footsteps press the hallow'd ground, 
 When the loud bell, slow-echoing from the walls. 
 Your minds to worship or to prayer calls; 
 But treading lightly o'er the lovers' grave. 
 Drop the sad tear their mem'ries from you crave. 
 
 My occupations at New-York, however 
 agreeable, did not repress my desire to explore 
 the continent before me; and I thought it best 
 to travel while I had some crowns left in 
 my purse. I felt regret at the thought of 
 separating from the Doctor, whom I was 
 attached to from habit; but the Doctor soon 
 relieved me by saying, he would accompany 
 me whithersoever I went; that no man loved 
 travelling better than he, and that he would 
 convert his medicine into money to defray his 
 expences on the road. 
 
 But tell me, said the Doctor, are you 
 fond of walking? I assured him no person 
 could be more so. Then, resumed he, let 
 us each provide ourselves with a good cudgel, 
 and begin our journey on foot. I will put a 
 case of instruments into my pocket, and you 
 can slip into your's the campaign of Buona- 
 parte in Italy. 
 
 But whither, replied I, do you propose 
 
33 
 
 to go ; and what, I beseech you, is the object 
 of your travelling? To see the world, as- 
 suredly, said he; to eat, drink and laugh 
 away care on the road. How, Doctor, said I, 
 would you approve of a walk to Philadelphia? 
 I should like it of all things, said the Doctor. 
 In our way to it we should go through the 
 place of my birth; you have heard, I guess, 
 of Hackinsac; and at Philadelphia I could 
 get somebody to introduce me to the great 
 Doctor Rush. All we have to do is to send 
 on our trunks in the coach, and trudge after 
 them on foot. 
 
 Our resolution was no sooner taken than 
 executed. The Doctor got an apothecary, 
 who lived opposite, to purchase what few 
 drugs were contained in his painted drawers ; 
 and having dispatched our trunks forward by 
 the coach, we began our journey to Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 Having crossed the Hudson, which sepa- 
 rates York-Island from the shore of the Jer- 
 seys, we were landed at a Tavern * delight- 
 fully situated on the bank of the river. The 
 Doctor having once reduced a fractured leg 
 
 * Every public-house in the United States, however con- 
 temptible, is dignified by the name of Tavern. 
 
 [*In Virginia, at this time, taverns were often called Or- 
 dinaries. Cf. La Rochefoucauld, Travels in North America, 
 1795, 1796, and IT97- London. 1799. Vol. II, p. 68—" After 
 having spent nearly the whole day at M. de Rieux's we went 
 ten miles farther on to Bird-ordinary"] 
 
34 
 
 for the landlord, proposed dining at the Tav- 
 ern: he will certainly charge us nothing, 
 said he, for I once reduced his leg, when the 
 Tibia and Fibula were both badly fractured. 
 It was a nice case, and I will put him in mind 
 of it. 
 
 But you charged him, Doctor, did you 
 not, said I. No matter for that, replied 
 he. I should have been expelled from the 
 College of Whigs had I not put in my claim. 
 
 I represented to the Doctor that no man 
 who respected himself would become an 
 eleemosynary guest at the table of another, 
 when he had money to defray his wants. That 
 to remind another of past services discovered 
 a want of humanity; and that a mean action, 
 though it may not torment the mind at the 
 moment it was done, never fails afterwards to 
 bring compunction: for the remembrance of 
 it will present itself like a spectre to the imag- 
 ination. 
 
 The landlord of the tavern was a portly 
 man, who in the middle of the day was 
 dressed in a loose night-gown and mocossins ;* 
 he recognised the Doctor, whom he shook 
 heartily by the hand, and turning to a man 
 in company, said, " they may talk of Doctor 
 Rush, Doctor Mitchell, or Doctor Devil, but 
 I maintain Doctor De Bow is the greatest 
 Doctor of them all." 
 
 * Mocossins are Indian shoes, made of deer-skin. 
 
35 
 
 It was difficult to refrain from laughing 
 aloud ; but the speech of the landlord inspired 
 the Doctor with very different emotions; he 
 made an inclination of his head, adjusted his 
 spectacles, and assumed a profound look that 
 assented to the justness of the remark. 
 
 What, gentlemen, said the landlord, 
 would you chuse for your dinner? It is 
 now the hottest part of the day, and if you 
 are walking to Newark, you will find the 
 evening more pleasant. How comes on trade. 
 Doctor, at New-York? I warrant you have 
 got your share. 
 
 Why, Mr. Clinch, replied the Doctor, 
 I cannot complain. There have been sev- 
 eral cases of fever to which I was called. 
 And the patients were right, said Mr. 
 Clinch, for they could not have called a better 
 Doctor had they sent over the four quarters 
 of the globe for him. Well, it is true, God 
 sends this country fevers, but he also sends 
 us Doctors who are able to cure them. It is 
 like the State I was born in: Virginia is in- 
 fested with snakes, but it abounds with roots 
 to cure their bite. Come, walk in, gentlemen, 
 walk in. I will get dinner ready directly. 
 
 Our dinner was a miserable one; but the 
 landlord seasoned his dishes with flattery, and 
 the Doctor found it very palatable. We went 
 forward in the cool ; nor did my friend hesi- 
 tate to pay his club towards two dollars for 
 
36 
 
 our repast: it was high, the Doctor whis- 
 pered, but, continued he, when a man's con- 
 sequence is known at a tavern it always in- 
 flames the bill. 
 
 It was our original design to have gone 
 through Hackinsack, a little village that 
 claimed the honor of my companion's nativity; 
 but it was getting late; the road to it was 
 circuitous, and we wished much that night 
 to travel to Elizabeth Town. The Doctor 
 consoled himself for not visiting his family 
 by observing that no man was a prophet at 
 home. 
 
 We did not stop long at Newark, but pros- 
 ecuted our walk, after taking shelter from a 
 shower of rain in one of its sylvan habitations.* 
 The sun, which had been obscured, again glad- 
 dened the plains; and the birds which had 
 ceased awhile singing, again renewed their 
 harmony. 
 
 We reached Elizabeth Town a little while 
 after the stage-coach. My companion, being 
 
 *The houses at Newark are generally shaded by clusters 
 of trees. One of our modern tourists would devote probably 
 a dozen pages to the description of Newark, which is famed 
 for the richest cider, and the largest cobbler's stall in the 
 United States of America. It supplies also an old house on 
 a hill, which, unworthy of repair, is moulding to dust; but 
 which has enough of the walls remaining to furnish an 
 English tourist with an admirable plate. To such Tourists I 
 consign Newark, and other places on the road, which the 
 Traveller beholds and dismisses from his mind with frigid 
 indifference. 
 
37 
 
 somewhat fatigued, retired early to bed, but 
 I devoted a great part of the night to the re- 
 fined pleasures of reading and reflection. 
 There is no life so unsettled but a lover of 
 reading will find leisure for the acquisition of 
 knowledge, an acquisition that depends not 
 on either seasons or place. To know the value 
 of time, we must learn to appreciate every 
 particle of it; and remember that moments, 
 however trifling in appearance, form the year 
 by accumulation. 
 
 When I went to bed there was little sleep 
 to be obtained; for a huge mastiff in the yard, 
 notwithstanding the Doctor put his head out 
 of the window and vociferated to him re- 
 peatedly, did not remit barking the whole of 
 the night. We therefore rose without being 
 called, and pursued our journey to Prince- 
 town, a place more famous for its College than 
 its learning. 
 
 The road from Prince-town to Trenton 
 offers little matter for speculation. I know 
 that in some places there were battles fought 
 between the British and their revolted Colo- 
 nists; but the recollection of it tends to no use, 
 and, I am sure, it cannot be pleasing. 
 
 At Trenton, the Doctor, who was afflicted 
 with sore eyes, declined proceeding any fur- 
 ther. It was to no purpose that I expostulated 
 with him on the folly of his conduct, and 
 urged that we had not many more miles to 
 
38 
 
 travel. The son of Paracelsus was inexorable, 
 and it only remained for me to perform the 
 last office of friendship, which was to tie a 
 bandage over his eyes, and lead him blind- 
 folded to his room ; in our way to which, hap- 
 pening to stumble, the Doctor comically 
 enough observed, When the blind leads the 
 blind, they shall both of them fall. 
 
 From Trenton I was conveyed over the 
 Delaware in the ferry-boat, with an elderly 
 man, clad in the garb of a Quaker. His looks 
 beamed benignity, and his accents breathed 
 kindness; but, as the great Master of Life 
 observes, there is no art can find the mind's 
 construction in the face. 
 
 We had scarce landed on the opposite bank 
 of the river, when a poor cripple in a soldier's 
 jacket, advanced towards the Quaker, holding 
 both his crutches in one hand, and taking 
 half a hat from his head with the other: — Be- 
 stow your charity, cried the beggar, on a 
 poor worn-out soldier, who fought for your 
 liberty during a long war, and got wounded 
 by a Hessian at the very place you have just 
 left. Refuse not your charity to an old soldier 
 in distress. 
 
 Alas! exclaimed the Quaker, this comes of 
 war. Shame on our nature. Beasts live 
 in concord, men only disagree. Had thou 
 taken the advice of scripture, thou wouldest 
 have escaped thy wounds I 
 
39 
 
 What, Master, is that? 
 
 Why, Friend, if a man smite thee on one 
 cheek, turn to him the other. 
 
 And were you to take the advice of scrip- 
 ture, you would not refuse me your alms. 
 
 What, Friend, is that? 
 
 Why, when a man wants to borrow of thee, 
 turn not thou awa>. 
 
 I remember no such passage, replied the 
 Quaker. 
 
 It is in the New Testament, said the beggar. 
 
 The text has been corrupted, cried the 
 Quaker, hastening away through a field. 
 
 Won't you give me a copper? bawled 
 the beggar, limping after the Quaker. 
 
 Charity begins at home, said the Quaker, 
 accelerating his pace. 
 
 The Lord help thee, exclaimed the beg- 
 gar, halting almost breathless on his crutch. 
 But here perhaps is a gentleman who has 
 more of the milk of human kindness. 
 
 To become acquainted with human life, the 
 traveller must not mingle only with the sons 
 of opulence and ease; these know no greater 
 fatigue than the hurry of preparation for a 
 ball, and experience no higher mortification 
 than the disappointment of pride. Such be- 
 ings who pass their days in solemn pomp and 
 plenty, can display no examples of fortitude, 
 of serenity, or patience; their wishes are an- 
 ticipated, and their mandates obeyed. It is 
 
40 
 
 among the children of adversity that we must 
 look for resignation under misfortune; it is 
 from the indigent only we can be instructed 
 to bear calamities without repining. 
 
 Impressed with this conviction, I entered 
 into discourse with the cripple, whom I found 
 to be a man not without reflection. He had 
 seen better days, and hoped for their return. 
 Though my present appearance, said he, 
 shews I am in the most wretched state of 
 poverty, there was a time when I knew the 
 comforts of a home and fireside. These are 
 past, but there is a pleasure in the recollection 
 of them; for no man who has enjoyed the 
 comforts of life is ever without the hope that 
 he shall enjoy them again. 
 
 I had walked about a mile along the bank 
 of the Delaware when the coach to Philadel- 
 phia overtook me, and finding the road dusty 
 I complied with the invitation of the driver 
 to get into the vehicle. At Bristol we took 
 up two young women, clad in the habit of 
 the Quakers, whom I soon, however, discov- 
 ered to be girls of the town; and who, under 
 pretence of shewing me a letter, discovered 
 their address. 
 
 A spacious road conducted us to Philadel- 
 phia, which we entered at Front-street. I had 
 expected to be charmed with the animation 
 of the American metropolis ; * but a melan- 
 
 * Philadelphia in 1798 was the Capital of the United States. 
 
41 
 
 choly silence prevailed in the streets, the prin- 
 cipal houses were abandoned, and none but 
 French people were to be found seeking pleas- 
 ure in society. 
 
 The coach stopped at the sign of the Sorrel- 
 Horse, in Second-street, where I heard only 
 lamentations over the Yellow Fever, which 
 had displayed itself in Water-street, and was 
 spreading its contagion. 
 
 It costs no more to go to a good tavern than 
 a bad one ; and I removed my trunks, which I 
 found at the Stage-office, to the French Hotel 
 in the same street. Mr. Pecquet received me 
 with a bowing mien, and called Jeannette for 
 the passepartout to shew me his apartments. 
 He exercised all his eloquence to make me 
 lodge in his hotel. He observed that his house 
 was not like an American house ; that he did 
 not in summer put twelve beds in one room; 
 but that every lodger had a room to himself, 
 and Monsieur, added he very solemnly, 
 " Ici il ne sera pas necessaire de sortir de votre 
 lit, comme chez les Americains, pour aller a 
 la fenetre, car Jeannette n^oublie jamais de 
 mettre un pot de chamhre sous le lit/' 
 
 Monsieur Pecquet assured me his dinners 
 were of a superior kind, and finding I was 
 an Englishman, observed with a bow, that he 
 could furnish me with the best porter brewed 
 in the city of Philadelphia. 
 
 Such professions as these, what unhoused 
 
42 
 
 traveller could resist? I commended Mon- 
 sieur Pecquet on his mode of living, recipro- 
 cated compliments with him, chose the 
 chamber I thought the coolest, and the same 
 night found myself at supper with a dozen 
 French ladies and gentlemen, who could not 
 utter a word of English,^ and with whom I 
 drank copious libations of that porter which 
 my host had enlarged upon with such elegance 
 of declamation. 
 
 My first visit was to the library. A bust 
 of Doctor Franklin stands over the door, 
 whose head it is to be lamented the librarian 
 cannot place on his own shoulders. Of the 
 two rooms the Franklinian Library is con- 
 fined to books in the English language, but 
 the Loganian Library comprehends every 
 classical work in the ancient and modern lan- 
 guages. I contemplated with reverence the 
 portrait of James Logan, which graces the 
 room. 
 
 magnum et venerabile nomen. 
 
 I could not repress my exclamations. As I 
 am only a stranger, said I, in this country, I 
 
 [* Cf. La Rochefoucauld, Travels in North America &c. 
 London. 1799. Vol. II, pp. 17-18. " To the port of Norfolk, 
 above any other in the United States, came the greatest num- 
 ber of colonists escaped from Saint-Domingo at the com- 
 mencement of their troubles. They have dispersed through 
 the other parts of America, where there is hardly a town that 
 does not reckon some of their number among its inhabitants."] 
 
43 
 
 affect no enthusiasm on beholding the statues 
 of her Generals and Statesmen. I have left 
 a church filled with them on the shore of 
 Albion that have a prior claim to such feel- 
 ing. But I here behold the portrait of a man 
 whom I consider so great a benefactor to 
 Literature, that he is scarcely less illustrious 
 than its munificent patrons of Italy; his soul 
 has certainly been admitted to the company 
 of the congenial spirits of a Cosmo and 
 Lorenzo of Medicis. The Greek and Roman 
 authors forgotten on their native banks of the 
 Ilyssus and Tiber, delight by the kindness of 
 Logan the votaries to learning on those of the 
 Delaware. 
 
 It has been observed, I believe, by Horace, 
 that there have lived many heroes not inferior 
 in prowess to those of the Iliad, but that for 
 want of a bard to sing their feats, they might 
 as well have not achieved them. But how 
 many characters are now unknown, who suscep- 
 tible only of the social energies, deserve to be 
 remembered more than an Agamemnon, or an 
 Achilles. What man ever rose from the Iliad 
 with an accession of benevolence? but who 
 would not be better for reading the life of a 
 Kyrle,^ of whom nothing can be now known 
 but what is furnished by an episode in a poem. 
 
 *The Man of Ross. [Philanthropist. "Owes his fame 
 largely to the eulogy of him which Pope introduced into his 
 third Moral Epistle (1732) on information supplied by Jacob 
 Tonson."] 
 
44 
 
 Of the readers of this volume there are 
 few who have ever heard mention made of 
 James Logan of Philadelphia; a man whose 
 benevolent actions aspire far higher than any 
 Greek or Roman fame. 
 
 James Logan was born in Scotland, about 
 the year 1674. He was one of the people 
 called Quakers, and accompanied William 
 Penn in his last voyage to Pennsylvania. For 
 many years of his life he was employed in 
 public business, and rose to the offices of Chief 
 Justice and Governor of the Province; but he 
 felt always an ardour of study, and by hus- 
 banding his leisure, found time to write sev- 
 eral treatises in Latin, of which one on the 
 Generation of Plants, was translated into Eng- 
 lish by Dr. Fothergill.* 
 
 Being declined in the vale of years, Mr. 
 Logan withdrew from the tumult of public 
 business to the solitude of his country-seat, 
 near Germantoivn, where he found tranquil- 
 lity among his books, and corresponded with 
 the most distinguished literary characters of 
 Europe. He also made a version of Cicero de 
 Senectute, which was published with notes by 
 the late Dr. Franklin.t Whether Franklin 
 was qualified to write annotations on Tully's 
 
 [* Experimenta et Meletemata, etc. Leyden 1739 ; London 
 1747.] 
 
 [^De Senectute. Philadelphia 1744, 1758, 1812, (the two 
 last in Dr. Franklin's name) ; London 1750, 1778 ; Glasgow 
 1751, 1758.] 
 
45 
 
 noble treatise, will admit of some doubt; for 
 the genius of Franklin was rather scientific 
 than classical. 
 
 Mr. Logan died in 1751, at the venerable 
 age of seventy-seven; leaving his library, 
 which he had been fifty years collecting, to 
 the people of Pennsylvania; a monument of 
 his ardour for the promotion of literature.* 
 
 It was at this library that during three suc- 
 cessive afternoons I enjoyed that calm and 
 pure delight which books afford. But on the 
 fourth I found access denied, and that the 
 librarian had fled from the yellow fever, 
 which spread consternation through the city. 
 
 Of the fever I may say that it momentarily 
 
 * The following extract from Mr. Logan's will cannot fail 
 to interest the curious in literature : 
 
 " In my library, which I have left to the city, of Phila- 
 " delphia, for the advancement and facilitating of classical 
 "learning, are above loo volumes of authors in folio, all in 
 " Greek, with mostly their versions. All the Roman Classics 
 "without exception. All the whole Greek Mathematicians, 
 " viz. Archimedes, Euclid, Ptolemy, both his Geography and 
 " Almagest, which I had in Greek (with The on' s Commentary 
 " in folio, above 700 pages) from my learned friend Fabricius, 
 " who published 14 volumes of his Bibliotheque Grecque in 
 " quarto, in which, after he had finished his account of 
 "Ptolemy, on my inquiring of him at Hamburgh in 1772, 
 " how I should find it, having long sought for it in vain 
 " in England; he sent it me out of his own library, telling me 
 " it was so scarce, that neither prayers nor price could pur- 
 " chase it. Besides, there are many of the most valuable 
 "Latin authors, and a great number of modern mathema- 
 " ticians, with all the three editions of Newton, Dr. Wallis, 
 "Halley, &c" 
 
 "James Logan." 
 
 b^Jiftiu^ dk 'rii Awk Mka^ M A Avfn 
 
 ^^^^ 
 
46 
 
 became more destructive. Sorrow sat on 
 every brow, and nothing was to be seen but 
 coffins carried through the streets unattended 
 by mourners. Indeed it was not a time to 
 practise modes of sorrow, or adjust the fu- 
 neral rites ; but the multitude thought only of 
 escaping from the pestilence that wasted at 
 noon-day, and walked in darkness. 
 
 This was a period to reflect on the vanity 
 of human life, and the mutability of human 
 affairs. Philadelphia, which in the spring 
 was a scene of mirth and riot, was in the sum- 
 mer converted to a sepulchre for the inhabi- 
 tants. The courts of law were shut, and no 
 subtile lawyer could obtain a client; the door 
 of the tavern was closed, and the drunkard 
 was without strength to lift the bowl to his 
 lips : no theatre invited the idle to behold the 
 mimic monarch strut his hour upon the stage; 
 the dice lay neglected on the gaming-table, 
 nor did the dancing-room re-echo with the 
 steps of the dancer: man was now humbled! 
 Death was whetting his arrows, and the graves 
 were open. All jollity was fled. The hos- 
 pital-cart moved slowly on where the chariot 
 before had rolled its rapid wheels; and the 
 coffin-makers were either nailing up the coffins 
 of the dead, or giving dreadful note of prepa- 
 ration by framing others for the dying, where 
 lately the mind at ease had poured forth its 
 tranquility in songs; where the loud laugh 
 
47 
 
 had reverberated, and where the animating 
 sound of music had stolen on the ear. — In this 
 scene of consternation, the negroes were the 
 only people who could be prevailed on to 
 assist the dying, and inter those who were no 
 more. Their motive was obvious; they plun- 
 dered the dead of their effects, and adorned 
 themselves in the spoils of the camp of the 
 King of Terrors. It was remarked to me by a 
 lady of Philadelphia, that the negroes were 
 never so well clad as after the yellow fever. 
 
 I had been a week at Philadelphia, without 
 hearing any tidings of my friend the Doctor, 
 when walking one evening past the Franklin's- 
 Head, I recognised him conversing with a 
 stranger in the front room. The physician 
 had arrived only that evening. He had staid 
 six days at Trenton, leading a pleasant, con- 
 valescent life; from whence he had written 
 me a letter, which I found afterwards at the 
 post office. We were rejoiced to meet each 
 other, and the better to exchange minds, I ac- 
 companied the Doctor into Arch-street, where 
 taking possession of the porch of an abandoned 
 dwelling, we sat conversing till a late hour. 
 The most gloomy imagination cannot con- 
 ceive a scene more dismal than the street be- 
 fore us: every house was deserted by those 
 who had strength to seek a less baneful at- 
 mosphere; unless where parental fondness 
 prevailed over self-love. Nothing was heard 
 
48 
 
 but either the groans of the dying, the lamenta- 
 tions of the survivors, the hammers of the 
 coffin-makers, or the howling of the domestic 
 animals, which those who fled from the pes- 
 tilence had left behind, in the precipitancy 
 of their flight. A poor cat came to the porch 
 where I was sitting with the Doctor, and 
 demonstrated her joy by the caresses of fond- 
 ness. An old negro-woman was passing at the 
 same moment with some pepper-pot * on her 
 head. With this we fed the cat that was nearly 
 reduced to a skeleton; and prompted by a de- 
 sire to know the sentiments of the old negro- 
 woman, we asked her the news. God help us, 
 cried the poor creature, very bad news. 
 Buckra die in heaps. By and bye nobody live 
 to buy pepper-pot, and old black woman die 
 too. 
 
 I would adduce this as a proof, that calami- 
 ties usually move us as they regard our inter- 
 est. The negro-woman lamented the ravages 
 of the fever, because it prevented the sale of 
 her pepper-pot. 
 
 Finding all business suspended at Phila- 
 delphia, and the atmosphere becoming hourly 
 more noisome, we judged it prudent to leave 
 the city without delay; and finding a vessel 
 at the wharfs ready to sail for Charleston, in 
 South Carolina, we agreed for the passage, 
 and put our luggage on board. 
 
 * Tripe seasoned with pepper. 
 
49 
 
 H aving taken leave of Monsieur Pecquet, 
 whose excellent dinners had enhanced him in 
 the opinion of the Doctor, we on the 22nd of 
 September, 1798, went on board, and bade 
 adieu to Philadelphia, which was become a 
 Golgotha. 
 
 The vessel having hauled out into the 
 stream, we weighed with a fair wind, and 
 shaped our course down the serpentine, but 
 beautiful river of the Delaware. Our cabin 
 was elegant, and the fare delicious. I ob- 
 served the Doctor's eyes brighten at the first 
 dinner we made on board, who expressed to 
 me a hope that we might be a month on the 
 passage, as he wished to eat out the money 
 the captain had charged him. 
 
 The first night the man at the helm fell 
 asleep, and the tide hove the vessel into a corn- 
 field, opposite Wilmington; so that when we 
 went upon deck in the morning, we found our 
 situation quite pastoral. We floated again 
 with the flood-tide, and at noon let go our 
 anchor before Newcastle. 
 
 It took us two days to clear the Capes. The 
 banks of the Delaware had been extolled to 
 me as the most beautiful in the world ; but I 
 thought them inferior to those of the Thames. 
 
 We were now at sea, bounding on the waves 
 of the Atlantic. Of our passengers the most 
 agreeable was an old French gentleman from 
 St. Domingo. Monsieur Lartigue, to the most 
 
50 
 
 perfect good breeding joined great knowledge 
 of mankind, and at the age of sixty had lost 
 none of his natural gaiety. It was impossible 
 to be dejected in the company of such a man. 
 If any person sung on board, he would imme- 
 diately begin capering; and when the rest 
 were silent, he never failed to sing himself. 
 
 Nothing very remarkable happened in our 
 passage, unless it be worthy of record that one 
 morning the captain suffered his fears to get 
 the better of his reason and mistook a Vir- 
 ginian sloop for a French privateer; and an- 
 other day the mate having caught a dolphin, 
 Mr. Lartigue exclaimed, II faut quil soit 
 ragouti. 
 
 After a passage of five days we came to an 
 anchor in Rebellion Roads, from which we 
 could plainly discern the spires and houses of 
 Charleston; and the following day we stood 
 towards Fort Johnson, which no vessels are 
 suffered to pass without being examined. 
 
 Here the Port Physician came on board, 
 with orders for us to perform quarantine a 
 fortnight, to the great joy of the Doctor, who 
 had not yet eaten half of what he wished to 
 eat on board. Monsieur Lartigue had abun- 
 dantly stocked himself with confitures and 
 wine; and I doubt not but the Doctor still re- 
 members the poignancy of his preserved cher- 
 ries, and the zest of his claret. 
 
51 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Projects at Charleston. — Solemnity the Mask of 
 Ignorance. — Interview with a Planter and his 
 Lady. — The Erudition of a Professor. — A new 
 and desirable Acquaintance. — College Toils. — 
 A Journey on foot from Charleston to Cooso- 
 hatchie. 
 
 I LANDED at Charleston with Doctor De 
 Bowjwho had clad himself in his black suit, and 
 though a young man, wore a monstrous pair 
 of spectacles on his nose. Adieu jollity! adieu 
 laughter! the Doctor was without an acquaint- 
 ance on a strange shore, and he had no other 
 friend but his Solemnity to recommend him. 
 It was to no purpose that I endeavoured to 
 provoke him to laughter by my remarks; the 
 Physician would not even relax his risible 
 muscles into a smile. 
 
 The Doctor was right. In a few days 
 he contrived to hire part of a house in 
 Union-street; obtained credit for a consider- 
 able quantity of drugs; and only wanted 
 a chariot to equal the best Physician in 
 Charleston. 
 
 The Doctor was in possession of a voluble 
 tongue; and I furnished him with a few 
 Latin phrases, which he dealt out to his hear- 
 ers with an air of profound learning. He gen- 
 
52 
 
 erally concluded his speeches with Nullius 
 addictus jurare in verba magistri! * 
 
 Wishing for some daily pursuit, I adver- 
 tised in one of the papers for the place of 
 Tutor in a respectable family; not omitting to 
 observe that the advertiser was the translator 
 of Buonaparte's Campaign in Italy. The 
 editor of the Gazette assured me of an hun- 
 dred applications; and that early the next 
 morning I should not be without some. His 
 predictions were verified; for the following 
 day, on calling at the office, I found a note 
 left from a Planter who lived a mile from the 
 town, desiring me to visit him that afternoon 
 at his house. I went thither accordingly. 
 Every thing indicated opulence and ease. Mr. 
 H received me with the insolence of pros- 
 perity. You are, said he, the person who ad- 
 vertised for the place of Tutor in a respect- 
 able family? I answered with a bow. 
 
 Planter. What, Sir, are your qualifications ? 
 
 Tutor. I am competently skilled. Sir, in 
 the Latin and French languages, not unac- 
 quainted with Greek, conversant with Geog- 
 raphy, and accustomed to composition in my 
 vernacular idiom. 
 
 Planter. But if you possess all that there 
 learning, how comes it you could not get into 
 some College, or School. 
 
 Tutor. Why, Sir, it is found even in Col- 
 
 [* Horace, Episf , I, i, 14.] 
 
53 
 
 leges that dunces triumph, and men of letters 
 are disregarded by a general combination in 
 favour of dulness. 
 
 Planter. Can you drive well, Sir? * 
 
 Tutor. Drive, Sir, did you say? I really 
 do not comprehend you. 
 
 Planter. I mean. Sir, can you keep your 
 scholars in order? 
 
 Tutor. Yes, Sir, if they are left entirely to 
 my direction. 
 
 Planter. Ah! that would not be. Mrs. 
 
 H , who is a woman of extensive learning, 
 
 (she lost a fine opportunity once of learning 
 French^ and only a few years ago could write 
 the best hand of any lady in Charleston,) Mrs. 
 
 H would superintend your management 
 
 of the school. 
 
 Tutor. Mrs. H , Sir, would do me 
 
 honour. 
 
 Planter. Mrs. H , Sir, is in the real 
 
 sense of the word, a woman of literature; and 
 her eldest daughter is a prodigy for her age. 
 She could tell at nine years old whether a 
 pudding was boiled enough; and, now, though 
 only eleven, can repeat Pope's Ode on Soli- 
 tude by heart. Ah! Pope was a pretty poet; 
 
 * The term drive, requires some little note explanatory to 
 the English reader. No man forgets his original trade. An 
 Overseer on a Plantation, who preserves subordination among 
 
 the negroes, is said to drive well; and Mr. H having once 
 
 been an Overseer himself, the phrase very naturally predom- 
 inated in his mind. 
 
54 
 
 my wife is very fond of Pope. You have read 
 him, I make make no doubt, Sir. What is 
 your opinion of his works? 
 
 Tutor. In his Rape of the Lock, Sir, he 
 exhibits most of the vis imaginandi that con- 
 stitutes the poet; his Essay on Criticism is 
 scarcely inferior to Horace's Epistle to the 
 Pisoes; his Satires 
 
 Planter. But I am surprised. Sir, you be- 
 stow no praise on his Ode on Solitude. Mrs. 
 
 H , who is quite a critic in those matters, 
 
 allows the Ode on Solitude to be his best, his 
 noblest, his sublimest production. 
 
 Tutor. Persuaded, Sir, of the critical 
 acuteness of Mrs. H , it is not safe to de- 
 part from her in opinion; — and if Mrs. H 
 
 affirms the Ode on Solitude to be the sublimest 
 of Mr. Pope's productions, it would be rather 
 painful than pleasant to undeceive her in 
 opinion. 
 
 Planter. That is right. Sir, I like to see 
 young men modest. What spelling-book do 
 you use? 
 
 Tutor. What spelling-book. Sir? Indeed 
 — really — upon my word. Sir, — any — oh I 
 Noah Webster's, Sir. 
 
 Planter. Ah! I perceive you are a New 
 England man, by giving the preference to 
 Noah Webster. 
 
 Tutor. Sir, I beg your pardon; I am from 
 Old England. 
 
55 
 
 Planter. Well, no matter for that, — but 
 
 Mrs. H , who is an excellent speller, never 
 
 makes use of any other but Matthew Carey's 
 spelling-book. It is a valuable work, the copy- 
 right is secured. But here comes Mrs. H 
 
 herself. 
 
 Mrs. H now entered, followed by a 
 
 negro girl, who held a peacock's feather in her 
 
 hand. Mrs. H received my bow with a 
 
 mutilated curtesey, and throwing herself on a 
 sopha, called peremptorily to Prudence to 
 brush the flies from her face. There was a 
 striking contrast between the dress of the lady 
 and her maid; the one was tricked out in all 
 the finery of fashion; while the black skin of 
 the other peeped through her garments. 
 
 Well, my dear, said Mr. H , this young 
 
 man is the person who advertised for the place 
 of tutor in a respectable family. A little con- 
 versation with him will enable you to judge, 
 whether he is qualified to instruct our children 
 in the branches of a liberal education. 
 
 Mrs. H. Why independent of his 
 
 literary attainments, it will be necessary for 
 him to produce certificates of his conduct. I 
 am not easily satisfied in my choice of a tutor; 
 a body should be very cautious in admitting a 
 stranger to her family. This gentleman is 
 young, and young men are very frequently ad- 
 dicted to bad habits. Some are prone to late 
 hours; some to hard drinking; and some to 
 
56 
 
 Negur girls : the last propensity I could never 
 forgive. 
 
 Mr. H. Yes, my dear, you discharged Mr. 
 Spondee, our last tutor, for his intimacy 
 with the Negur girls: — Prudence had a little 
 one by him. Prudence looked reproachfully 
 at her master; the child was in reality the off- 
 spring of Mr. H , who fearing the in- 
 quiries of the world on the subject, fathered 
 it upon the last tutor. But they must have 
 been blind who could not discover that the 
 
 child was sprung from Mr. H ; for it had 
 
 the same vulgar forehead, the same vacant eye, 
 and the same idiot laugh. 
 
 Mr. H. Do, my dear, examine the young 
 man a little on literary matters. He seems to 
 have read Pope. 
 
 Mrs. H. What, Sir, is your opinion of Mr. 
 Pope's Ode on Solitude? 
 
 Tutor. It is a tolerable production, 
 madam, for a child. 
 
 Mrs. H. A tolerable production for a 
 child! Mercy on us! It is the most sub- 
 limest of his productions. But tastes differ. 
 Have you read the works of Dr. Johnson? 
 Which do you approve the most. 
 
 Tutor. Why, Madam, if you allude to his 
 poems, I should, in conformity with your 
 judgment, give a decided preference to his 
 Epitaph on a Duck, written, if I mistake not, 
 when he was four years old. It need scarcely 
 
57 
 
 fear competition with Pope's Ode on Soli- 
 tude. 
 
 At this moment the eldest daughter of thi« 
 learned lady, of this unsexed female, tripped 
 into the room on light, fantastic toe. Come, 
 my daughter, said the lady, let this gentle- 
 man hear you repeat the Ode on Solitude. 
 
 Excuse me. Madam, cried I, taking up my 
 hat and bowing. 
 
 Do you hear the child, bawled Mr. H . 
 
 I pray you, sir, to excuse me, rejoined I. 
 
 Mrs. H. It will not take the child ten 
 minutes. 
 
 Tutor. Ten minutes, Madam, are the sixth 
 part of an hour that will never return ! 
 
 Mr. H. Politeness dictates it. 
 
 Tutor. Excuse me, I entreat you, Sir. 
 
 Mr. H. I cannot excuse you, I shall hire 
 you as tutor, and I have a right to expect from 
 you submission. I may perhaps give you the 
 sum of fifty pounds a year. 
 
 Don't mention it, Sir, said I. There again 
 you will have the goodness to excuse me.- 
 Madam, your most obedient. Miss, your very 
 obsequious. Sir, your humble servant* 
 
 My walk back to Charleston was along the 
 
 * It has been my object in this scene to soften the condition 
 
 of private tutors in America, by putting up Mr. H in 
 
 signum terroris et memorice to other purse-proud planters. 
 I write not from personal pique, but a desire to benefit society. 
 Happy shall I think myself should this page hold the mirror 
 up to the inflation of pride, and the insolence of prosperity. 
 
S8 
 
 shore of the Atlantic, whose waves naturally 
 associated the idea of a home I despaired ever 
 again to behold. Sorrow always begets in 
 me a disposition for poetry; and the reflexions 
 that obtruded themselves in my lonely walk 
 produced a little ode. 
 
 ODE ON HOME. 
 
 DEAR native soil! where once my feet 
 
 Were wont thy flow'ry paths to roam, 
 And where my heart would joyful beat, 
 
 From India's climes restor'd to home; 
 Ah ! shall I e'er behold you more, 
 
 And cheer again a parent's eye? 
 A wand'rer from thy blissful shore. 
 
 Thro' endless troubles doomed to sigh ? 
 
 Or shall I, pensive and forlorn. 
 
 Of penury be yet the prey, 
 Long from thy grateful bosom torn, 
 
 Without a friend to guide my way ? 
 Hard is the hapless wand'rer's fate, 
 
 Tho' blest with magic power of song; 
 Successive woes his steps await. 
 
 Unheeded by the worldly throng. 
 
 It was not long before my advertisement 
 brought me other applications. The princi- 
 pal of Charleston College * honoured me with 
 a letter, whom, pursuant to his desire, I waited 
 on at his house. 
 
 I found Mr. Drone in his study, consulting 
 
 [* The first Commencement was held in 1794. Ravenel, 
 Charleston. New York. 1906; p. 348.] 
 
59 
 
 with great solemnity the ponderous lexicon of 
 Schrevelius* I could not but feel a secret 
 veneration from the scene before me. I was 
 admitted to the presence of a man who was 
 not less voluminous than learned; for no book 
 under a folio ever stood on his shelf. 
 
 How stupendous, thought I, must be the 
 erudition of this professor, who holds in 
 sovereign contempt a volume of ordinary 
 dimensions! Every animal has an aliment 
 peculiarly suited to its constitution. The ox 
 finds nourishment only from the earth; and a 
 professor cannot derive knowledge from any 
 volume but a folio. 
 
 Mr. Drone received me with all the little 
 decorums of dulness. He, however, talked 
 learnedly. He lamented the degeneracy of 
 literature in England and America; discov- 
 ered that taste was on the decline; and de- 
 spaired of ever beholding the spirit of that 
 age revived when writers sought not for new 
 combinations of imagery, but were content to 
 compile lexicons, and restore the true punctu- 
 ation to an ancient poet. 
 
 Mr. Drone asked me whether I was con- 
 versant with Latin; and on my replying in 
 the affirmative, he produced a Horace in folio, 
 and desired I would construe the Ode of 
 Quern tu Melpomene. 
 
 [* One of the earliest American editions of Schrevelius was 
 that of 1814, " Novi-Eboraci : Impensis Eastburn, Kirk et Soc. 
 Apud Cameras Literararias, Wall- Street."] 
 
6o 
 
 Horace had never before assumed so formi- 
 dable an aspect. In the ordinary editions he 
 had always looked at me placido lumine; but 
 he now appeared crabbed and sour, and I 
 found his text completely buried amidst the 
 rubbish of annotations. 
 
 By making isthmius labor the agent to 
 clarabit * the difficulty of the inversion van- 
 ished; but when I came to analyze the con- 
 struction of the ode, not having some rule for 
 verbs construed at memory, I think it was the 
 important one of mo fit ui, as vomo vomui;f 
 the Professor, with a shake of his head, which 
 doubtless put all his sagacity into motion, told 
 me very gravely I had yet something to learn. 
 
 I ought to apologize to my reader for de- 
 taining him so long in the company of Pro- 
 fessor Drone; but it is a link in the chain of 
 my history, however rusty. To be brief, he 
 engaged me as an Assistant to his sublime 
 College for three months ; and had the vanity 
 to assert, that in consequence of it I should 
 become fama super aethera notus. 
 
 I was about to take leave of Mr. Drone, 
 when his principal Tutor entered the room, 
 
 [*Odes, IV, 3— 
 
 Quern tu, Melpomene, semel 
 
 Nascentem placido lumine videris, 
 Ilium non labor Isthmius 
 
 Clarabit pugilem, non equus inpiger 
 Curru ducet Achaico 
 
 Victorem — ] 
 
 tVide Lilly's Grammar. 
 
6i 
 
 to whom he introduced me. Mr. George 
 taught the Greek and Latin classics at the 
 College, and was not less distinguished by 
 his genius than his erudition. 
 
 On surveying my new acquaintance, I could 
 not but think that he deserved a better office 
 than that of a Gerund-grinder. Nature 
 seemed to have set her seal on him to give 
 the world assurance of a man. 
 
 Mr. George laughed obstreperously at the 
 pedantry of the Professor. Peace, said he, 
 to all such! Old Dujfey, my first school- 
 master in Roscommon, concealed more learn- 
 ing under the coarseness of his brogue, than 
 Drone will ever display with all his rhetoric 
 of declamation. It is true he can talk of 
 Luitprandus, Bertholdus, and Lambertus; but 
 an acquaintance with these writers, however it 
 may display reading, discovers little judgment. 
 
 Two young men, of similar pursuits, soon 
 become acquainted. The day of my intro- 
 duction to Mr. George, we exchanged 
 thoughts without restraint; and during three 
 months that I continued at Charleston, we 
 were inseparable companions. 
 
 I know not whether I was qualified to fill 
 the vacant chair of instruction at the College; 
 but I remember, that zealous to acquit myself 
 with dignity in my new office, I assumed the 
 aspect of a pedagogue, and when an idle boy 
 stared at me, I checked him with a frown. I, 
 
62 
 
 however, was not ambitious of this honour 
 more than six weeks; a space of time, which, 
 however it cannot be long, may surely be 
 tedious. The Professor complained that I 
 was always last in the College; * and I replied 
 by desiring my discharge. 
 
 I was now dismissed from the College; but 
 I was under no solicitude for my future life. 
 A planter of the name of Brisbane, had 
 politely invited me to his plantation, to par- 
 take with him and his neighbours, the diver- 
 sion of hunting, during the winter; and an- 
 other of the name of Drayton, the owner of 
 immense forests, had applied to me to live 
 in his family, and undertake the tuition of 
 his children. Of these proposals, the first 
 flattered my love of ease, and the other insured 
 me an augmentation of wealth. I was not 
 long held in suspense which of the two to 
 chuse; but I preferred the summons of in- 
 dustry to the blandishments of pleasure. 
 
 The winters of Carolina, however piercing 
 to a native, who during the summer months 
 may be said to bask rather than breathe, are 
 mild to an Englishman accustomed to the 
 frosts of his island. In the month of Novem- 
 ber my engagement led me to Coosohatchie, 
 an insignificant village about seventy-eight 
 miles from Charleston; for the plantation of 
 Mr. Drayton was in the neighbouring woods. 
 
 [* " Omnibus hoc vitiumst cantoribus " ?] 
 
63 
 
 The serenity of the weather invited the travel- 
 ler to walk, and, at an early hour of the morn- 
 ing, I departed on foot from Charleston, hav- 
 ing the preceding evening taken leave of Mr. 
 George. 
 
 The foot-traveller need not be ashamed of 
 his mode of journeying. To travel on foot, is 
 to travel like Plato and Pythagoras; and to 
 these examples may be added the not less illus- 
 trious ones of Goldsmith and Rousseau. The 
 rambles of the ancient sages are at this distance 
 of time uncertain; but it is well known that 
 Goldsmith made the tour of Europe on foot, 
 and that Rousseau walked from choice, 
 through a great part of Italy. 
 
 An agreeable walk of ten miles, brought 
 me to the bank of Ashley River, where I 
 breakfasted in a decent public house, with the 
 landlord and his family. That man travels 
 to no purpose who sits down alone to his 
 meals; for my part I love to mingle with the 
 sons and daughters of industry; to mark the 
 economy of their household, and compare 
 their mode of living with that of the same 
 class of people in my own country. The 
 opulent of every nation are nearly the same; 
 refinement has polished away the original 
 stamp of character: the true estimate of man- 
 ners is to be made among those in a middle 
 rank of life. 
 
 Having crossed the ferry, I resumed my 
 
64 
 
 journey through a country which might be 
 assimilated to one continued forest. Tall 
 trees of pine, planted by the hand of nature 
 in regular rows, bordered the road I travelled, 
 and I saw no other animals, but now and then 
 a flock of deer, which, ceasing awhile to 
 browse, looked up at me with symptoms of 
 wonder rather than fear. 
 
 " Along these lonely regions, here retir'd 
 From little scenes of art, great Nature dwells 
 In awful solitude, and naught is seen 
 But the wild herds that own no master's stall." * 
 
 At three in the afternoon I reached Jack- 
 sonborough, the only town on the road from 
 Charleston to Coosohatchie. Though a foot- 
 traveller, I was received at the tavern with 
 every demonstration of respect; the landlord 
 ushered me into a room which afforded the 
 largest fire I had ever seen in my travels ; yet 
 the landlord, rubbing his hands, complained 
 
 [* The author intends his quotation, in the matter of herds, 
 to apply to deer, &c. In this region, somewhat to the north- 
 west, was the early ranch country of the United States, and 
 cattle ' owning no master's stall ' might have been seen in 
 the woods. 
 
 Cf. American Husbandry, London 1775. Vol. I, pp. 337- 
 338. — " It is not an uncommon thing to see one man (in 
 North Carolina) the master of from 300 to 1200, and even 
 to 2000 cows, bulls, oxen, and young cattle; hogs also in 
 prodigious numbers. Their management is to let them run 
 loose in the woods all day." 
 
 Cf. also J. F. D. Smyth, Tour in the United States of 
 America, London, 1784, II, p. 78 ff.; and Schoepf, Reise, &c. 
 Erlangen 1788, II, 168 ff.] 
 
6s 
 
 it was cold, and exclaimed against his negroes 
 for keeping so bad a fire. Here, Syphax, 
 said he, " be quick and bring more wood; you 
 have made, you rascal, a Charleston fire ; fetch 
 a stout back log, or I'll make a back-log of 
 you. 
 
 The exclamations of the landlord brought 
 his wife into the room. She curtesied, and 
 made many eloquent apologies for the badness 
 of the fire; but added that her waiting man, 
 Will, had run away, and having whipped 
 Syphax till his back was raw, she was willing 
 to try what gentle means would do. 
 
 A dinner of venison, and a pint of Madeira, 
 made me forget I had walked thirty miles; 
 and it being little more than four o'clock, I 
 proceeded forward on my journey. The 
 vapours of a Spanish segar promoted cogita- 
 tion, and I was lamenting the inequality of 
 conditions in the world, when night overtook 
 me. 
 
 I now redoubled my pace, not without the 
 apprehension that I should have to seek my 
 lodgings in some tree, to avoid the beasts that 
 prowled nightly in the woods; but the moon, 
 which rose to direct me in my path, alienated 
 my perturbation, and in another hour I de- 
 scried the blaze of a friendly fire through the 
 casements of a log-house. Imaginary are 
 worse than real calamities; and the apprehen- 
 sion of sleeping in the woods was by far more 
 
66 
 
 painful than the actual experience of it would 
 have been. The same Being who sends trials 
 can also inspire fortitude. 
 
 The place I had reached was Asheepo, a 
 hamlet consisting of three or more log-houses ; 
 and the inhabitants of every sex and age had 
 collected round a huge elephant, which was 
 journeying with his master to Savannah. 
 
 Fortune had therefore brought me into un- 
 expected company, and I could not but admire 
 the docility of the elephant, who, in solemn 
 majesty, received the gifts of the children with 
 his trunk. But not so the monkey. This man 
 of Lord Monhoddo was inflamed with rage 
 at the boys and girls; nor could the rebukes 
 of his master calm the transports of his fury.* 
 
 I entered the log-house which accommo- 
 dated travellers. An old negro-man had 
 squatted himself before the fire. Well, old 
 man, said I, why don't you go out to look 
 at the elephant? Hie! Massa, he calf! In 
 fact the elephant came from Asia, and the 
 negro from Africa, where he had seen the same 
 species of animal, but of much greater magni- 
 tude. 
 
 Traveling, says Shakespeare, acquaints 
 a man with strange bed-fellows; and there 
 
 [* Want of speech may have been no disadvantage at such a 
 juncture. Lord Monboddo, in his Origin and Progress of 
 Language, 6 Vols., 1773-1792, 'maintained that the orang- 
 outang, was a class of the human species and that its want 
 of speech was merely accidental.'] 
 
67 
 
 being only one bed in the log-house, I slept 
 that night with the elephant driver. Mr. 
 Owen was a native of Wales, but he had 
 been a great traveller, and carried a map of 
 his travels in his pocket. Nothing shortens 
 a journey more than good company on the 
 road; so I departed after breakfast from 
 Asheepo, with Mr. Owen, his elephant, and 
 his monkey. 
 
 Mr. Owen related to me the wonders of 
 his elephant, which at some future day, I may 
 perhaps publish in a separate treatise; but 
 they would be irrevalant to my present jour- 
 ney, which towards noon I was left to pros- 
 ecute alone. The elephant, however docile, 
 would not travel without his dinner; and Mr. 
 Owen halted under a pine-tree to feed the 
 mute companion of his toils. 
 
 For my own part, I dined at a solitary log- 
 house in the woods, upon exquisite venison. 
 My host was a small planter, who cultivated a 
 little rice, and maintained a wife and four 
 children with his rifled-barrel-gun. He had 
 been Overseer to a Colonel Fishborne, and 
 owned half a dozen negroes; but he observed 
 to me his property was running about at large, 
 for four of them had absconded. 
 
 As I proposed to make Pocotaligo the end of 
 my day's journey, I walked forward at a mod- 
 erate pace; but towards evening I was roused 
 from the reveries into which my walking had 
 
68 
 
 plunged me by a conflagration in the woods. 
 On either side of the road the trees were in 
 flames, which, extending to their branches, 
 assumed an appearance both terrific and gro- 
 tesque. Through these woods, belching flames 
 and rolling smoke, I had to travel nearly a 
 mile, when the sound of the negro's axe chop- 
 ping of wood, announced that I was near 
 Pocotaligo. 
 
 At Pocotaligo I learned that the conflagra- 
 tion in the woods arose from the carelessness 
 of some backwoods-men, who having neg- 
 lected to extinguish their fires, the flames had 
 extended in succession to the herbage and the 
 trees.* 
 
 I was somewhat surprised on entering the 
 tavern at Pocotaligo to behold sixteen or more 
 chairs placed round a table which was covered 
 with the choicest dishes; but my surprise 
 ceased when the Savannah and Charleston 
 stage-coaches stopped at the door, and the 
 passengers flocked to the fire before which I 
 was sitting. In the Charleston coach came 
 a party of comedians. Of these itinerant 
 heroes the greater part were my countrymen; 
 
 [* Naturally, the early Traveller in this country [i 776-1800] 
 often mentions forest fires. Isaac Weld gives a particularly 
 vivid description of a fire in the pine woods, — Travels through 
 the States of North America, &c. London, 1800. Vol. I, pp. 
 161-162. Cf. also Travels through the Interior Parts of 
 America [Thomas Anburey], London, 1789. Vol. II, pp. 412- 
 413-] 
 
69 
 
 and, as I was not travelling to see Englishmen, 
 but Americans, I was not sorry when they re- 
 tired to bed.* 
 
 I was in a worse condition at Pocotaligo 
 than Asheepo; for at Pocotaligo the beds were 
 so small that they would hold only respectively 
 one person. But I pity the traveller who 
 takes umbrage against America, because its 
 houses of entertainment cannot always accom- 
 modate him to his wishes. If he images no 
 other happiness to himself in travelling, but 
 what is to be obtained from repasts that min- 
 ister to luxury, and beds distinguished by soft- 
 ness, let him confine his excursions to the cities 
 of polished Europe. The Western Continent 
 can supply the Traveller an employment more 
 noble than a minute attention to the casualties 
 of the road, which are afterwards to be en- 
 larged upon with studied declamation. The 
 world is called upon to sympathize with the 
 sufferer; he who at home had been accustomed 
 to the luxury of a bed, groaned the night out 
 in America on the rack of a mattress ; and for 
 this the country is to be execrated, and the 
 beautiful scenes of nature beheld with a jaun- 
 diced eye. 
 
 Finding there was no bed to be procured, I 
 seated myself in a nook of the chimney, called 
 
 [* Two years later John Bernard, the English comedian, 
 might have been of the company. Cf. his Retrospections of 
 America, 1797-1811. New York, 1887, Chapter IX.] 
 
70 
 
 for wine and segars, and either attended to 
 the conversation of the negro girls who had 
 spread their blankets on the floor, or enter- 
 tained myself with the half-formed notions of 
 the landlord and coachman, who had brought 
 their chairs to the fire, and were disputing 
 on politics. Both Americans and English 
 are subject to loquacious imbecility. Their 
 subjects only differ. The American talks 
 of his government,* the Englishman of him- 
 self. 
 
 Early in the morning, I resumed my journey 
 in the coach that was proceeding to Savannah; 
 I had but a short distance more to go; for 
 Coosohatchie is only ten miles from Pocota- 
 ligo. In journeying through America, the 
 Indian names of places have always awakened 
 in my breast a train of reflection ; a single word 
 will speak volumes to a speculative mind ; and 
 the names of Pocotaligo , and Coosohatchie, 
 and Occoquan, have pictured to my fancy the 
 havoc of time, the decay and succession of 
 generations, together with the final extirpation 
 of savage nations, who, unconscious of the ex- 
 istence of another people, dreamt not of in- 
 vasions from foreign enemies, or inroads from 
 colonists, but believed their power invincible 
 and their race eternal. 
 
 [* Cf. Chastellux, Travels in North America, 1780-1782. 
 New York, 1828, p. 276. — " This subject led us naturally to 
 that which is the most favourite topic among the Americans, 
 the origin and commencement of the present revolution." ] 
 
71 
 
 I was put down at the post office of Cooso- 
 hatchie. The post-master was risen, expecting 
 the mail. He invited me to partake of a fire 
 he had just kindled, before which a negro boy 
 was administering pap to a sickly infant, 
 whom the man always addressed by the ho- 
 meric title of My Son. 
 
 I sat with the post-master an hour, when 
 I sought out the village tavern, where with 
 some trouble I knocked up a miserable Ne- 
 gress, who, on my entrance, resumed her slum- 
 bers on an old rug spread before the embers 
 of the kitchen fire, and snored in oblivion of 
 all care. After all, I know not whether those 
 whose condition wears the appearance of 
 wretchedness, are not greater favourites of 
 nature than the opulent. Nothing comes 
 amiss to the slave ; he will find repose on the 
 flint, when sleep flies the eye-lids of his master 
 on a bed of down. I seated myself in a nook 
 of the chimney till daylight, when the landlord 
 came down ; and, not long after, a servant was 
 announced with horses to conduct me to the 
 house of Mr. Drayton* 
 
 An hour's ride through a forest of stately 
 pines brought me to the plantation, where I 
 
 [* It is very likely this was Thomas Drayton, of " Mag- 
 nolia," on Ashley River, d. circa 1820, brother of Charles 
 Drayton, of "Drayton Hall." Of this family John Drayton, 
 Governor, etc., published a book of Travels, Letters Written 
 During a Tour Through the Northern and Eastern States, 
 1794] 
 
72 
 
 was received with much affability by Mr. 
 Drayton and his lady, and where I was 
 doomed to pass the winter in the woods of 
 Carolina. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 MEMOIR OF MY LIFE 
 
 IN THE WOODS OF SOUTH CAROLINA * 
 
 Ocean Plantation. — Poetry delightful in Solitude. 
 — Walks in the Woods. — Family of Mr. Dray- 
 ton. — Midnight Lucubrations. — Sketches of Na^ 
 tural History. — Deer-Hunting. — Remarks on 
 Slaves and Slavery. — Militia of Coosohatchie 
 District. — A School Groupe. — Journey into 
 Georgia. 
 
 Deep in the bosom of a lofty wood, 
 Near Coosohatchie' s slow revolving flood, 
 Where the blithe Mocking-bird repeats the lay 
 Of all the choir that warble from the spray ; 
 Where the soft fawn, and not less tim'rous hind, 
 Beset by dogs, outstrip in speed the wind; 
 Where the grim wolf, at silent close of day. 
 With hunger bold, comes near the house for prey; 
 
 [* Volney, who was in the United States at this time, par- 
 titioned the country into three cantons or forests : the South- 
 ern forest, the Middle forest, and the ^^orthern forest— 
 his Middle forest comprising the mountaii^us parts of the 
 Carolinas and of Virginia; all Pennsylvania, Southern New 
 York, all Kentucky, and Northern Ohio. Climat et Sol des 
 Etats-Unis, &c. Paris. 1803. I, 9-11.] 
 
73 
 
 Along the road, near yonder fields of corn, 
 Where the soft dove resorts at early morn. 
 There would my breast with love of Nature glow, 
 And oft my thoughts in tuneful numbers flow; 
 While friendly George, by ev'ry Muse belov'd, 
 Smil'd his assent, and all my lays approv'd. 
 
 About half way on the road from Charles- 
 ton to Savannah is situated a little village 
 called Coosohatchie, consisting of a black- 
 smith's shop, a court-house, and a jail. A 
 small river rolls its stagnant water near the 
 place, on whose dismal banks are to be found 
 many vestiges of the Indians that once inhab- 
 ited them; and in the immeasurable forests of 
 the neighbourhood (comprehended within 
 the district of Coosohatchie), are several scat- 
 tered plantations of cotton and of rice, whose 
 stubborn soil the poor negro moistens with 
 his tears, and 
 
 Whose sore task 
 Does not divide the Sunday from the week! 
 
 It was on one of these plantations that I 
 passed the Winter of 1798, and the Spring 
 of the following year. 
 
 I lived in the family of Mr. Drayton, of 
 whose children I had undertaken the tuition, 
 and enjoyed every comfort that opulence could 
 bestow. 
 
 To form an idea of Ocean Plantation, let 
 the reader picture to his imagination an avenue 
 
74 
 
 of several miles, leading from the Savannah 
 road, through a continued forest, to a wooden 
 house, encompassed by rice-grounds, corn and 
 cotton-fields. On the right, a kitchen and 
 other offices ; on the left, a stable and coach- 
 house; a little further a row of negro huts, a 
 barn and yard; the view of the eye bounded 
 by lofty woods of pine, oak and hickory. 
 
 The solitude of the woods I found at first 
 rather dreary; but the polite attention of an 
 elegant family, a sparkling fire in my room 
 every night, and a horse always at my com- 
 mand, reconciled me to my situation ; and my 
 impulse to sacrifice to the Muses, which had 
 been repressed by a wandering life, was once 
 more awakened by the scenery of the woods 
 of Carolina. 
 
 I indulged in the composition of lyric 
 poetry, and when I had produced an Ode, 
 transmitted it to Freneau at Charleston, who 
 published it in his Gazette.* But planters 
 have little disposition for poetry, and the eye 
 of the Carolina reader was diverted from my 
 effusions by the more interesting advertise- 
 ments for fugitive slaves. I was therefore 
 apprehensive that my reputation would not 
 become extended by the Muse, when at the 
 
 [* Peter Freneau (younger brother of Philip Freneau), Sec- 
 retary of State of South Carolina, about 1795 became editor, 
 and proprietor of the Charleston City Gazette, d. 1813. Cf. 
 Duyckinck, I, 334.] 
 
75 
 
 distance of fourteen hundred miles, I found an 
 Eulogist in Mr. Dennie* who conducted the 
 only literary paper in the United States, and 
 whose praise was the more grateful from its 
 being voluntary and remote. " As conductors 
 " of the only paper on our Continent that is 
 " professedly literary, we consider it incum- 
 " bent on us to pay the tribute of praise to 
 " certain easy poems which have appeared in 
 " the Charleston Gazette, and which, instead 
 " of being dated from Parnassus, or Helicon, 
 " or at least from some town of our Union, 
 " appear to originate in an obscure hamlet, 
 " of the barbarous and wigwam name of 
 " Coosohatchie. Among the many pleasing 
 " effusions of this writer is an imitation of 
 " that exquisite Ode in which Horace, under 
 " the name of Pyrrha, depicts the wiles of a 
 " Courtezan. Mr. D., though stunned with 
 " Indian names, and resident among Indian 
 readers, has a mind to comprehend the 
 " language, and catch the spirit of a liberal 
 ''Roman. There is, perhaps, no Ode of 
 " Horace more difficult to render into English 
 " than the Ode to Pyrrha; and many are the 
 " versions that have been attempted without 
 " success by writers distinguished for their 
 
 [* Joseph Dennie, 1768-1813, Editor of the Farmer's Mu- 
 seum (Walpole, New Hampshire), from 1796 to 1799. "gath- 
 ered around it one of the most brilliant corps of writers ever 
 congregated to advance the fortunes of a similar undertaking 
 in America." Duyckinck, I, 562.] 
 
76 
 
 " classical attainments, and liveliness of im- 
 " agination. We, therefore, rejoice to find the 
 " task performed with felicity on a soil where 
 "genius sickens, and where fancy dies!'' 
 
 Horace, Book i, Ode 5, Imitated. 
 Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa, ^c. 
 
 TO PYRRHA. 
 
 WHAT essenc'd youth, on bed of blushing roses, 
 Dissolves away within they glowing arms? 
 
 Or with soft languor on thy breast reposes, 
 Deeply enamor'd of thy witching charms? 
 
 For whom do now, with wantonness and care. 
 Thy golden locks in graceful ringlets wave? 
 
 What swain now listens to thy vows of air? 
 For whom doth now thy fragrant bosom heave ? 
 
 Alas! how often shall he curse the hour, 
 Who, all-confiding in thy winning wiles, 
 
 With sudden darkness views the heavens low'r, 
 And finds too late the treach'ry of thy smiles. 
 
 Wretched are they, who, by thy beauty won, 
 Believe thee not less amiable than kind: 
 
 No more deluded, I thy charms disown, 
 
 And give thy vows, indignant, to the wind, 
 
 "We would recommend this writer if he 
 " should chuse, or be compelled to remain at 
 " Coosohatchie, or any other American town 
 " of barbarous etymology, to turn either 
 " Usurer, Speculator or Jew. His poetry, 
 "however happy, will in this country experi- 
 "ence only the fate of being buried among 
 
77 
 
 " the rubbish of advertisements for runaway 
 " negroes. Neither Horace, nor his imitator, 
 " will be inquired after; but What's the price 
 " of cotton? and how a yoke of bullocks? " 
 
 My ardour of literary application was in- 
 creased by such spontaneous praise from a 
 man whose writings were held in the highest 
 estimation, and who was considered, from pre- 
 scriptive veneration, the American Arbiter 
 Elegantiarum. I now cultivated the lighter 
 Ode, and felicitated myself on having sacri- 
 ficed to the laurelled god in the woods of 
 Carolina* The common names of common 
 towns, of Boston, New-York, and Philadel- 
 phia, awaken no curiosity, because every Trav- 
 eller has described them; but Coosohatchie, 
 which has scarce ever reached the ear of an 
 European, cannot but possess the recommenda- 
 tion of novelty from the Indian derivation of 
 its name, and the wildness of its situation. I, 
 therefore, rejoice at the destiny which brought 
 me to the spot ; and I envy not other Travellers 
 the magnificence of their cities. 
 
 The country near Coosohatchie exhibited 
 with the coming Spring a new and enchant- 
 ing prospect. The borders of the forests were 
 covered with the blossoms of the dog-wood, 
 
 [*The poems so produced were published in a small volume, 
 a copy of which is in the Library of the South Carolina 
 Historical Society — Poems, Written at Coosohatchie in South 
 Carolina. Printed by T. C. Cox, N. 137 Tradd St., Charles- 
 ton. 120 pp. (12°, n.d.)] 
 
78 
 
 of which the white flowers caught the eye 
 from every part; and often was to be seen 
 the red-bud tree, which purpled the adjacent 
 woods with its luxuriant branches; while, not 
 infrequently, shrubs of jessamine, intertwined 
 with the wood-bine, lined the road for several 
 miles. The feathered choir began to warble 
 their strains, and from every tree was heard 
 the song of the red-bird, of which the pauses 
 were filled by the mocking-bird, who either 
 imitated the note with exquisite precision, or 
 poured forth a ravishing melody of its own. 
 
 I commonly devoted my Sundays to the 
 pleasure of exploring the country, and cheered 
 by a serene sky, and smiling landscape, felt 
 my breast awakened to the most rapturous 
 sensations. I lifted my heart to that Supreme 
 Being, whose agency is everywhere confessed ; 
 and whom I traced in the verdure of the earth, 
 the foliage of the trees, and the water of the 
 stream. I have ever been of the opinion that 
 God can be as well propitiated in a field as 
 a temple; that he is not to be conciliated by 
 empty protestations, but grateful feelings; and 
 that the heart can be devout when the tongue 
 is silent. Yet there is always something want- 
 ing to sublunary felicity, and I confess I felt 
 very sensibly the privation of those hills which 
 so agreeably diversify the country of Europe. 
 I would exclaim in the animated language of 
 Rousseau, Jamais pays de plaine, quelque beau 
 
79 
 
 qu'l fut, ne parut tel a mes yeux. — // me faut 
 des torrens, des rockers, des sapins, des hois 
 noirs, des chemins raboteux a monter & a 
 descendre, des precipices a mes cotes qui me 
 f assent bien peur! " * 
 
 In my walk to Coosohatchie I passed here 
 and there a plantation, but to have called on 
 its owner without a previous introduction 
 would have been a breach of etiquette which 
 has its source from the depravity of great 
 cities, but has not failed to find its way into 
 the woods of America. When I first beheld 
 a fine lady drawn by four horses through the 
 woods of Carolina in her coach, and a train 
 of servants following the vehicle, clad in a 
 magnificent livery, I looked up with sorrow 
 at that luxury and refinement, which are has- 
 tening with rapid strides to change the pure 
 and sylvan scenes of nature into a theatre 
 of pride and ostentation. When Venus en- 
 chanted Mneas with her presence in the woods 
 she was not attired in the dress of the ladies 
 of Queen Dido's court; but, huntress like, had 
 hung from her shoulders a bow, and was 
 otherwise equipped for the toils of the chase. 
 
 On coming to Coosohatchie, I repaired to 
 the post-office, which never failed to give me 
 an epistle from my beloved and literary friend 
 Mr. George; who enlightened me with his 
 knowledge, enlivened me with his wit, and 
 
 * Confessions. Tom. 2. 
 
8o 
 
 consoled me with his reflections. I shall not 
 expatiate on our genuine, disinterested friend- 
 ship. He has consecrated to it a monument in 
 his Poem of the Wanderer. What but the 
 heart could have dictated the following pas- 
 sage? 
 
 " Here doom'd to pant beneath a torrid sky, 
 "And cast to happier climes a wishful eye; 
 " No friend had I my sorrows to deplore, 
 " With whom to pass the sympathetic hour ! 
 " For many a stream, and many a waste divide, 
 "These lonely shores from Coosohatchie's tide!" 
 
 I remember, with lively pleasure, my resi- 
 dence in the woods of South Carolina. En- 
 joying health in its plentitude, yet young 
 enough to receive new impressions ; cultivating 
 daily my taste by the study of polite literature ; 
 blest with the friendship of a George, and 
 living in the bosom of a family unruffled by 
 domestic cares; how could I be otherwise than 
 happy, and how can I refrain from the pleas- 
 ure of retrospection. 
 
 Coosohatchie! thou shalt not be unknown, if, 
 by what eloquence nature has given me, I can 
 call forth corresponding emotions in the breast 
 of my reader to those which my own felt when 
 wandering silently through thy woods. 
 
 My pupils, in the woods of Coosohatchie, 
 consisted of a boy and two young ladies. Wil- 
 liam Henry was an interesting lad of fourteen, 
 ingenuous of disposition, and a stranger to fear. 
 
8i 
 
 He was fond to excess of the chase. His heart 
 danced with joy at the mention of a deer; and 
 he blew his horn, called together his dogs, 
 and hooped and hallooed in the woods with 
 an animation that would have done honour to 
 a veteran sportsman. O! for the Muse of an 
 Ovid, to describe the dogs of this young 
 ActfBon. There were Sweetlips, and Ring- 
 wood, and Music, and Smoker, whose barking 
 was enough to frighten the wood nymphs to 
 their caves. His eldest sister, Maria, though 
 not a regular beauty, was remarkable for her 
 dark eyes and white teeth, and, what was not 
 less captivating, an amiable temper. She was 
 grateful to me for my instruction, and imposed 
 silence on her brother when I invoked the 
 Muse in school. But it was difficult to controul 
 her little sister Sally, whom in sport and wan- 
 tonness they called Tibousa. This little girl 
 was distinguished by the languish of her blue 
 eyes, from which, however, she could dart fire 
 when William ofifended her. Sally was a 
 charming girl, whose beauty promised to equal 
 that of her mother. That I passed many 
 happy hours in watching and assisting the 
 progress of the minds of these young people, I 
 feel no repugnance to acknowledge. My long 
 residence in a country where honour and 
 shame from no condition rise, has placed me 
 above the ridiculous pride of disowning the 
 situation of a Tutor. 
 
82 
 
 Though the plantation of Mr. Drayton was 
 immense, his dwelling was only a log-house; 
 a temporary fabric built to reside in during 
 the winter. But his table was sumptuous, and 
 an elegance of manners presided at it that 
 might have vied with the highest circles of 
 polished Europe. I make the eulogium, or 
 rather exhibit the character of Mr. Drayton, 
 in one word, by saying he was a Gentleman ; 
 for under that portraiture I comprehend what- 
 ever there is of honour. Nor can I refrain 
 from speaking in panegyric terms of his lady, 
 whose beauty and elegance were her least qual- 
 ities; for she was a tender mother, a sincere 
 friend, and walked humbly with her God. 
 She was indeed deserving the solicitude of her 
 husband who would not suffer the winds of 
 heaven to visit her face too roughly. 
 
 It is usual in Carolina to sit an hour at table 
 after supper; at least it was our custom in the 
 woods of Coosohatchie. It was then I related 
 my adventures to Mr. and Mrs. Drayton, in 
 the eastern section of the globe, who not only 
 endured my tales, but were elated with my 
 successes, and depressed by my misfortunes. 
 
 About ten I withdrew to my chamber and 
 my books, where I found a sparkling fire of 
 wood, and where I lucubrated, smoked segars, 
 and was lost in my own musings. The silence 
 of the night invited meditation ; but often was 
 I to be seen at three in the morning sitting 
 
83 
 
 before my chamber fire, surrounded like 
 Magliabechi by my papers and my books. 
 My study was Latins and my recreation the 
 Confessions of the eloquent Citizen of 
 Geneva. 
 
 But I was not without company. A merry 
 cricket in my chimney corner never failed to 
 cheer me with his song. — A cricket is not to 
 be contemned. It is related by Buff on that 
 they are sold publicly in the Asiatic markets ; 
 and it is recorded of Scaliger that he kept 
 several in a box. I remember an Ode which 
 I consecrated to my midnight companion. 
 
 ODE TO A CRICKET. 
 
 LITTLE guest, with merry throat. 
 That chirpest by my taper's light, 
 
 Come, prolong thy blithsome note. 
 Welcome visitant of night. 
 
 Here enjoy a calm retreat, 
 
 In my chimney safely dwell. 
 No rude hand thy haunt shall beat. 
 
 Or chase thee from thy lonely cell. 
 
 Come, recount me all thy woes. 
 While around us sighs the gale; 
 
 Or rejoic'd to find repose, 
 
 Charm me with thy merry tale. 
 
 Say that passion moves thy breast: 
 Does some flame employ thy care? 
 
 Perhaps with love thou art opprest, 
 A mournful victim to despair. 
 
84 
 
 Shelter'd from the wintry wind, 
 Live and sing and banish care; 
 Here protection thou shalt find, 
 Sympathy has brought thee here. 
 
 The country in our neighbourhood consisted 
 of lofty forests of pine, oak, and hickory. 
 Well might I have exclaimed in the words of 
 my poetical friend: 
 
 " Around an endless wild of forests lies, 
 And pines on pines forever meet the eyes ! " 
 
 The land, as I have before suggested, was 
 perfectly level. Not the smallest acclivity 
 was visible, and therefore no valley rejoiced 
 the sight with its verdure. 
 
 The staple commodity of the State is rice, 
 but cotton is now eagerly cultivated where the 
 soil is adapted to the purpose. The culture 
 of indigo is nearly relinquished.* It attains 
 more perfection in the East-Indies, which can 
 amply supply the markets of Europe. It is to 
 the crop of cotton that the Planter looks for 
 the augmentation of his wealth. Of cotton 
 there are two kinds ; the sea-island and inland. 
 
 [* Swift and far-reaching changes brought in by Whitney's 
 gin machine. Cf. Schoepf, Reise durch einige der mittlern 
 und sudlichen vereinigten nordamerikanischen Staaten. Erlan- 
 gen. 1788, II, 287, 288. — " Nachst dem schon beriihrten Indigo, 
 ist der Reis die vorziiglichste Stapelwaare von Siidkarolina. 
 . . . Auf Reis, Indigo, und in den hintern Gegenden auf 
 Toback, haben die Einwohner von Karolina bisher ihre 
 hauptsachlichste Aufmerksamkeit verwendet" (1784).] 
 
85 
 
 The first is the most valuable. The ground is 
 hoed for planting the latter part of March; 
 but as frosts are not infrequent the beginning 
 of April, it is judicious not to plant before that 
 time. Cotton is of a very tender nature. A 
 frost, or even a chilling wind, has power to 
 destroy the rising plant, and compel the 
 Planter to begin anew his toil. 
 
 The winds in autumn are so tempestuous 
 that they tear up the largest trees by the roots. 
 Homer, some thousand years ago, witnessed 
 a similar scene: 
 
 " Leaves, arms and trees aloft in air are blown, 
 " The broad oaks crackle, and the sylvans groan ; 
 " This way and that, the rattling thicket bends, 
 " And the whole forest in one crash descends." 
 
 Of the feathered race, the mocking-bird 
 first claims my notice. It is perfectly domes- 
 tic, and sings frequently for hours on the roof 
 of a log-house. It is held sacred by the na- 
 tives. Even children respect the bird whose 
 imitative powers are so delightful.* 
 
 I heard the mocking-bird for the first time 
 on the first day of March. It was warbling, 
 close to my window, from a tree called by 
 some the Pride of India, and by others the 
 Poison-berry Tree. Its song was faint, re- 
 
 [* Cf. Castiglioni, Viaggio negli Stati Uniti, 1785, 1786, 1787, 
 Milan. 1790. I, 357. — " The mocking-bird is bought at ex- 
 travagant prices by the English. At Boston the price is often 
 three to four guineas."] 
 
86 
 
 sembling that of birds hailing the rising sun; 
 but it became stronger as the spring advanced. 
 The premices of this mocking songster could 
 not but delight me; and I adressed the bird 
 in an irregular Ode, which Mrs. Drayton did 
 me the honour to approve. 
 
 ODE TO THE MOCKING-BIRD. 
 
 SWEET bird, whose imitative strain, 
 Of all thy race can counterfeit the note, 
 
 And with a burthen'd heart complain, 
 Or to the song of joy attune the throat; 
 
 To thee I touch the string. 
 While at my casement, from the neighb'ring tree, 
 
 Thou hail'st the coming spring. 
 And plaintive pour'st thy voice, or mock'st with merry 
 glee. 
 
 Thou bringest to my mind 
 
 The characters we find 
 Amid the motley scenes of human life; 
 
 How very few appear 
 
 The garb of truth to wear. 
 But with a borrow'd voice, conceal a heart of strife. 
 
 Sure then, with wisdom fraught, 
 
 Thou art by nature taught 
 Dissembled joy in others to describe; 
 
 And when the mournful heart 
 
 Assumes a sprightly part, 
 To note the cheat, and with thy mocking chide. 
 
87 
 
 But when, with midnight song, 
 
 Thou sing'st the woods among. 
 And softer feelings in the heart awake;* 
 
 Sure then thy rolling note 
 
 Does sympathy denote, 
 And shews thou can'st of others' grief partake. 
 
 Pour out thy lengthen'd strain f 
 
 With woe and grief complain. 
 And blend thy sorrows in the mournful lay ; 
 
 Thy moving tale reveal, 
 
 Make me soft pity feel, 
 I love in silent woe to pass the day. 
 
 The humming bird was often caught in the 
 bells of flowers. It is remarkable for its 
 variegated plumage of scarlet, green, and gold. 
 
 The whip-poor-will is heard after the last 
 frost, when, towards night, it fills the woods 
 with its melancholy cry of Whip poor Willi 
 Whip poor Will! I remember to have seen 
 mention made of this bird in a Latin poem, 
 written by an early Colonist. 
 
 Hie Avis repetens. Whip! Whip! Will, voce jocosa. 
 Qua tota verno tempore node canit. 
 
 The note of the red-bird is imitated with 
 nice precision by the mocking-bird; but there 
 
 * Put for awak'st. 
 [t " And thou America's sole boast ! 
 Pour out the joy sincere." 
 
 Pietas et Gratulatio, p. 89,— a slightly- 
 different philosophy: that of the ode is dubious. The im- 
 portance of this bird, in the pages of the early traveller, is 
 suggested by the frequent mention in Davis's book.] 
 
88 
 
 is a bird called the loggerhead that will not 
 bear passively its taunts. His cry resembles 
 Clink, clink, clank; which, should the mock- 
 ing-bird presume to imitate it, he flies and 
 attacks the mimic for his insolence. But this 
 only incurs a repetition of the of¥ence ; so true 
 is it that among birds as well as men, anger 
 serves only to sharpen the edge of ridicule. 
 It is observable, that the loggerhead is known 
 to suck the eggs of the mocking-bird and de- 
 vour the young ones in the nest. 
 
 Eagles were often seen on the plantation. 
 The rencounter between one of them and a 
 fish-hawk is curious. When the fish-hawk has 
 seized his prey, his object is to get above the 
 eagle; but when unable to succeed, the king 
 of birds darts on him fiercely, at whose ap- 
 proach the hawk, with a horrid cry, lets fall 
 the fish, which the eagle catches in his beak 
 before it descends to the ground. 
 
 The woods abound with deer, the hunting 
 of which forms the chief diversion of the 
 Planters. I never failed to accompany my 
 neighbours in their parties, but I cannot say 
 that I derived much pleasure from standing 
 several hours behind a tree. 
 
 This mode of hunting is, perhaps, not gen- 
 erally known. On riding to a convenient spot 
 in the woods, the hunters dismount, take their 
 stands at certain distances, hitch their horses 
 to a tree, and prepare their guns, — while a 
 
89 
 
 couple of negroes lead the beagles into the 
 thickest of the forest. The barking of the 
 dogs announces the deer are dislodged, and 
 on whatever side they run, the sportsmen fire 
 at them from their lurking places. The first 
 day two bucks passed near my tree. I heard 
 the cry of the dogs and put my gun on a whole 
 cock. The first buck glided by me with 
 the rapidity of lightning, but the second I 
 wounded with my fire, as was evident from his 
 twitching his tail between his legs in the agony 
 of pain. I heard Colonel Pastell exclaim 
 from the next tree, after discharging his piece, 
 " By heaven, that fellow is wounded, let us 
 " mount and follow him, — he cannot run far." 
 I accompanied the venerable Colonel through 
 the woods, and in a few minutes, directed by 
 the scent of a beagle, we reached the spot 
 where the deer had fallen. It was a noble 
 buck, and we dined on it like kings.* 
 
 Fatal accidents sometimes attend the hunters 
 in the woods. Two brothers a few years ago, 
 having taken their respective stands behind a 
 tree, the elder fired at a deer which the dogs 
 had started; but, his shot being diverted by 
 a fence, it flew off and lodged in the body of 
 his brother. The deer passing on, the wounded 
 brother discharged his gun which had been 
 prepared, killed the animal, and staggering a 
 
 [* Cf. John Bernard, Retrospections of America, New 
 York, 1887. pp. 206, 207 (South CaroHna, temp. 1800, deer- 
 hunting by torchlight).] 
 
90 
 
 few paces, expired himself. This disaster was 
 related to me by Colonel Pastell and his son, 
 Major Warley, and Captain Pelatte, who 
 lived on the neighbouring plantations, and 
 composed our hunting party. 
 
 After killing half a dozen deer, we as- 
 sembled by appointment at some planter's 
 house, whither the mothers, and wives, and 
 daughters of the hunters had got before us 
 in their carriages. A dinner of venison, 
 killed the preceding hunt, smoked before us; 
 the richest Madeira sparkled in the glass, 
 and we forgot, in our hilarity, there was any 
 other habitation for man but that of the woods. 
 
 In this hunting party was always to be found 
 my pupil William Henry, who galloped 
 through the woods, however thick or intricate; 
 summoned his beagles after the toil of the 
 chase with his horn; caressed the dog that had 
 been the most eager in pursuit of the deer, 
 and expressed his hope there would be good 
 weather to hunt again the following Saturday. 
 
 I did not repress this ardour in my pupil. 
 I beheld it with satisfaction; for the man 
 doomed to pass every winter in the woods 
 would find his life very irksome could he not 
 partake, with his neighbours, in the diversions 
 they af¥ord. 
 
 Ludere qui nescit, campestribus, abstinet armis, 
 
 Indoctusque Pila, Discive, Trochive guiescitj 
 
 Ne sptssce risum tollant impune Coronce. HoR * 
 
 [*Epist., II., (Ars Poet.), 3, 379.] 
 
91 
 
 Wolves were sometimes heard on the plan- 
 tation in the night; and, when incited by 
 hunger, would attack a calf and devour it. 
 One night, however, some wolves endeavour- 
 ing to seize on a calf, the dam defended her 
 offspring with such determined resolution, that 
 the hungry assailants were compelled to re- 
 treat with the tail only of the calf, which one 
 of them had bitten off. 
 
 Wild cats are very common and mischie- 
 vous in the woods. When a sow is ready to 
 litter, she is always enclosed with a fence or 
 rails, for, otherwise, the wild cats would de- 
 vour the pigs. 
 
 I generally accompanied my pupil into the 
 woods in his shooting excursions, determined 
 both to make havoc among birds and beasts 
 of every description. Sometimes we fired in 
 vollies at the flocks of doves that frequent the 
 corn fields; sometimes we discharged our 
 pieces at the wild geese, whose empty cack- 
 ling betrayed them; and once we brought 
 down some paroquets that were directing their 
 course over our heads to Georgia. Nor was 
 it an undelightful task to fire at the squirrels 
 on the tops of the highest trees, who, however 
 artful, could seldom elude the shot of my 
 eager companion. 
 
 The affability and tenderness of this charm- 
 ing family in the bosom of the woods will be 
 ever cherished in my breast, and long re- 
 
92 
 
 corded, I hope, in this page. My wants were 
 always anticipated. The family Library was 
 transported without entreaty into my chamber; 
 paper and the apparatus for writing were 
 placed on my table ; and once, having lamented 
 that my stock of segars was nearly ex- 
 hausted, a negro was dispatched seventy miles 
 to Charleston for a supply of the best 
 Spanish. 
 
 I conclude my description of this elegant 
 family with an observation that will apply to 
 every other that I have been domesticated in, 
 on the Western Continent; — that cheerfulness 
 and quiet always predominated, and that I 
 never saw a brow clouded, or a lip opened in 
 anger. 
 
 One diminution to the happiness of an 
 European in the woods of Carolina is the 
 reflection that every want is supplied him by 
 slaves. Whatever may be urged on the sub- 
 ject of negroes, as the voice of millions could 
 lend no support to falsehood, so no casuistry 
 can justify the keeping of slaves. That 
 negroes are human beings is confessed by 
 their partaking with the rest of mankind the 
 faculty of speech, and power of combination. 
 Now no man being born a slave, but with his 
 original rights, the supposed property of the 
 master in the slave, is an usurpation and not 
 a right; because no one from being a person 
 can become a thing. From this conviction 
 
93 
 
 should every good citizen promote the eman- 
 cipation of Negroes in America. 
 
 The negroes on the plantation, including 
 house-servants and children, amounted to a 
 hundred, of whom the average price being re- 
 spectively seventy pounds, made them aggre- 
 gately v^orth seven thousand to their possessor. 
 
 Two families lived in one hut, and such was 
 their unconquerable propensity to steal that 
 they pilfered from each other. I have heard 
 masters lament this defect in their negroes. 
 But what else can be expected from man in 
 so degraded a condition, that among the 
 ancients the same word implied both a slave 
 and a thief. 
 
 Since the introduction of the culture of 
 cotton in the State of South Carolina, the race 
 of negroes has increased. Both men and 
 women work in the field, and the labour of 
 the rice-plantation formerly prevented the 
 pregnant Negress from bringing forth a long- 
 lived offspring. It may be established as a 
 maxim that, on a plantation where there are 
 many children, the work has been moderate. 
 
 It may be incredible to some that the chil- 
 dren of the most distinguished families in 
 Carolina are suckled by negro women. Each 
 child has its Momma, whose gestures and 
 accent it will necessarily copy, for children, 
 we all know, are imitative beings. It is not 
 unusual to hear an elegant lady say, Richard 
 
94 
 
 always grieves when Quasheehaw is whipped, 
 because she suckled him. If Rousseau in his 
 Emile could inveigh against the French 
 mother, who consigned her child to a woman 
 of her own color to suckle, how would his 
 indignation have been raised to behold a 
 smiling babe tugging with its roseate lips at a 
 dug of a size and color to affright a Satyr? 
 
 Of genius in negroes many instances may 
 be recorded. It is true that Mr. Jefferson 
 has pronounced the Poems of Phillis Whately 
 below the dignity of criticism,* and it is sel- 
 dom safe to differ in judgment from the 
 Author of Notes on Virginia. But her con- 
 ceptions are often lofty, and her versification 
 often surprises with unexpected refinement. 
 hadd, the Carolina poet, in enumerating the 
 bards of his country, dwells with encomium 
 on " Whately' s polished verse"; nor is his 
 praise undeserved, for often it will be found 
 to glide in the stream of melody. Her lines 
 
 \^ Notes on Virginia, ch. XIV. — "Among the blacks is mis- 
 ery enough, God knows, but no poetry. . . Religion indeed 
 has produced a Phyllis Whately but it could not produce 
 a poet. . . . Ignatius Sancho has approached nearer 
 to merit in composition, yet his letters do more honor to 
 the heart than the head." Joseph Brown Ladd of Rhode 
 Island, lived for two years (1783-1785) in South Carolina. 
 His poems were not published in book form until 1832. 
 Gilbert Imlay, who described Kentucky, published in 1793, 
 a three-volume novel, The Emigrants, a story of life in 
 America. — ^John Gabriel Stedman's Narrative of a Five Years' 
 Expedition against the revolted Negroes of Surinam, in Guiana, 
 on the wild coast of South America, appeared in 1776.] 
 
95 
 
 on Imagination have been quoted with rap- 
 ture by Imlay of Kentucky, and Steadman, 
 the Guiana Traveller; but I have ever thought 
 her happiest production the Goliah of Gath. 
 
 Of Ignatius Sancho, Mr. Jefferson also 
 speaks neglectingly ; and remarks that he sub- 
 stitutes sentiment for argumentation. But I 
 know not that argumentation is required in 
 a familiar epistle; and Sancho, I believe, has 
 only published his Correspondence. 
 
 Before I quit the woods of Coosohatchie it 
 will be expected from me to fill the imagina- 
 tion of my reader with the vengeful terrors 
 of the rattle-snake that meditates destruction 
 to the unwary. Were I really pleased with 
 such tales, I would not content myself with 
 the story of the fascinating power of a rattle- 
 snake over birds, but relate how a negro was 
 once irresistibly charmed and devoured.* 
 
 Vegetation is singularly quick in the woods 
 of Carolina. Of flowers, the jessamine and 
 woodbine grow wild; but the former differs 
 widely from that known by the same name in 
 England, being of a straw color, and having 
 large bells. Violets perfume the woods and 
 roads with their fragrance. 
 
 [* The negro Caesar, mentioned by several of the early 
 Travellers, found a charm against rattlesnake poison: equal 
 quantities of the juice of hore-hound and plantain, admin- 
 istered internally. "The assembly, or parliament of North 
 Carolina, rewarded him with his freedom and two hundred 
 pounds." Cf. Smyth, Travels &c. London 1784, I, 109.] 
 
96 
 
 In bogs, and marshy situations, is found the 
 singular plant called the fly-catcher by the 
 natives, and, I believe, dionce muscipula by 
 botanists. Its jointed leaves are furnished 
 with two rows of strong prickles, of which the 
 surfaces are covered with a quantity of minute 
 glands that secrete a sweet liquor, which al- 
 lures the flies. When these parts are touched 
 by the legs of a fly, the two lobes of the leaf 
 immediately rise, the rows of prickles com- 
 press themselves, and squeeze the unwary in- 
 sect to death. But a straw or pin introduced be- 
 tween the lobes will excite the same motions. 
 
 The honey of the bees in Carolina is ex- 
 quisitely delicious, and these insects are very 
 sagacious in chusing their retreats. They 
 seek lodgings in the upper part of the trunk 
 of the loftiest tree; but here their nests cannot 
 elude the searching eyes of the negroes and 
 children. The tree is either scaled, or cut 
 down, the bees are tumbled from their 
 honeyed domes, and their treasures rifled. 
 
 Sic vos non vobis mellificatis Apes! 
 
 These are the few observations that I made 
 on the productions of nature before me; a 
 study I have ever considered subordinate, 
 when compared to that of life. I have used 
 only the popular names, though without any 
 labour I could have dignified my page with 
 the terms of the Naturalist, for I had all the 
 Latin phrases at the end of my pen.* But I 
 
97 
 
 return from brutes to man, though many read- 
 ers may be of the opinion that in exhibiting 
 the cruelty and wantonness of planters, over 
 their slaves, I change not the subject. 
 
 It appears to me that in Carolina, the sim- 
 plicity of the first colonists is obliterated, and 
 that the present inhabitants strive to exceed 
 each other in the vanities of life. Slight cir- 
 cumstances often mark the manners of a peo- 
 ple. In the opulent families, there is always 
 a negro placed on the look-out, to announce 
 the coming of any visitant; and the moment a 
 carriage, or horseman, is descried, each negro 
 changes his every day garb for a magnificent 
 suit of livery. As the negroes wear no shirts, 
 this is quickly effected ; and in a few moments 
 a ragged fellow is metamorphosed into a 
 spruce footman. And woe to them should 
 they neglect it; for their master would think 
 himself disgraced, and Sambo and Cuffy in- 
 cur a severe flogging. 
 
 In Carolina, the legislative and executive 
 powers of the house belong to the mistress, the 
 master has little or nothing to do with the ad- 
 ministration ; he is a monument of uxorious- 
 ness and passive endurance. The negroes are 
 
 [*And probably Catesby's works were accessible. William 
 Bartram's 'Travels through North and South Carolina, &c ' 
 was published in 1791. In 1796 Dr. Michaux had returned to 
 France, after spending several years in South Carolina. The 
 travellers Schoepf and Castiglioni made careful studies of the 
 botany of the Carolinas.] 
 
98 
 
 not without the discernment to perceive this; 
 and when the husband resolves to flog them, 
 they often throw themselves at the feet of the 
 wife, and supplicate her mediation. But the 
 ladies of Carolina, and particularly those of 
 Charleston, have little tenderness for their 
 slaves; on the contrary, they send both their 
 men-slaves and women-slaves, for the most 
 venial trespass, to a hellish-mansion, called 
 the Sugar-house: here a man employs inferior 
 agents to scourge the poor negroes: a shilling 
 for a dozen lashes is the charge: the man, or 
 woman, is stripped naked to the waist; a re- 
 doubtable whip at every lash flays the back 
 of the culprit, who, agonized in every pore, 
 rends the air with his cries. 
 
 Mrs. D informed me that a lady of 
 
 Charleston, once observed to her, that she 
 thought it abominably dear to pay a shilling 
 for a dozen lashes, and, that having many 
 slaves, she would bargain with the man at the 
 Sugar-house to flog them by the year. 
 
 It has been observed by Mr. Jefferson, that 
 negroes secreting little by the kidnies, but 
 much by the pores, exhale a strong effluvia.* 
 But great is the power of habit, and in the hot- 
 test day of summer, when the thermometer 
 in the shade has risen to a hundred, I have 
 witnessed a dinner party of ladies and gentle- 
 men, surrounded by a tribe of lusty negro-men 
 
 * Vide Notes on Virginia. 
 
99 
 
 and women. I leave my reader to draw the 
 inference. 
 
 Of the understanding of negroes, the mas- 
 ters in Carolina have a very mean opinion. 
 But it is obvious to a stranger of discernment, 
 that the sentiments of black Cujfy who waits 
 at table, are often not less just or elevated than 
 those of his white ruler, into whose hand, 
 Fortune, by one of her freaks, has put the 
 whip of power. Nor is there much difference 
 in their language; for many planters seem in- 
 capable of displaying their sovereignty, by any 
 other mode than menaces and imprecations. 
 Indeed, it must occur to every one, that were 
 things to be re-organized in their natural 
 order, the master would in many parts of the 
 globe, exchange with his servant. 
 
 An Englishman cannot but draw a proud 
 comparison between his own country and 
 Carolina. He feels with a glow of enthusiasm 
 the force of the poet's exclamation:* 
 
 " Slaves cannot breathe in England! 
 They touch our country, and their shackles fall ; 
 That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 
 And jealous of their rights." 
 
 [*Duyckinck (Vol. I, p. 563) describes Davis's Travels 
 as "a book of pleasant exaggerations." Throughout this 
 book it must be remembered that the author is a novelist, 
 and a sentimentalist. Slavery as it existed in the Southern 
 States was a rudimentary education. If the design was to 
 bring the black man out of Guinea into modern handicrafts- 
 manship, it is difficult to see how the introduction could 
 have been better effected.] 
 
lOO 
 
 It is, indeed, grating to an Englishman to 
 mingle with society in Carolina; for the peo- 
 ple, however well-bred in other respects, have 
 no delicacy before a stranger in what relates 
 to their slaves. These wretches are execrated 
 for every involuntary offence ; but negroes en- 
 dure execration without emotion, for they say, 
 when Mossa curse, he break no hone. But 
 every master does not confine himself to oaths ; 
 and I have heard a man say, By heaven, my 
 Negurs talk the worst English of any in Caro- 
 lina: that boy just now called a bason a round- 
 something: take him to the driver! let him 
 have a dozen! 
 
 Exposed to such wanton cruelty the negroes 
 frequently run away; they flee into the 
 woods, where they are wet with the rains of 
 heaven, and embrace the rock for want of a 
 shelter. Life must be supported; hunger in- 
 cites to depredation, and the poor wretches 
 are often shot like the beasts of prey. When 
 taken, the men are put in irons, and the boys 
 have their necks encircled with a " pot-hook." 
 
 The Charleston papers abound with adver- 
 tisements for fugitive slaves. I have a curious 
 advertisement now before me. " Stop the 
 " runaway. Fifty dollars reward. Whereas 
 " my waiting fellow, Will, having eloped 
 " from me last Saturday, without any provo- 
 " cation, (it being known that I am a hu- 
 mane master) the above reward will be 
 
lOI 
 
 " paid to any one who will lodge the afore- 
 " said slave in some jail or deliver him to 
 " me on my plantation at Liberty Hall. 
 
 Will may be known by the incisions of the 
 " whip on his back; and I suspect has taken 
 " the road to Coosohatchie, where he has a 
 " wife and five children, whom I sold last 
 " week to Mr. Gillespie/' 
 
 A. Levi. 
 
 Thus are the poor negroes treated in Caro- 
 lina. Indeed, planters usually consider their 
 slaves as beings defective in understanding; 
 an opinion that excites only scorn from the 
 philosopher. The human soul possesses facul- 
 ties susceptible of improvement, without any 
 regard to the color of the skin. It is education 
 that makes the difference between the master 
 and the slave. Shall the imperious planter 
 say, that the swarthy sons of Africa, who now 
 groan under his usurpation of their rights, 
 would not equal him in virtue, knowledge and 
 manners, had they been born free, and with 
 the same advantages in the scale of society? 
 It is to civilization that even Europeans owe 
 their superiority over the savage ; who knows 
 only how to hunt and fish, to hew out a canoe 
 from a tree, and construct a wretched hut; and 
 but for this, the inhabitants of Britain had still 
 bent the bow, still clothed themselves in skins, 
 and still traversed the woods. 
 
I02 
 
 No climate can be hotter than that of South 
 Carolina and Georgia. In the piazza of a 
 house at Charleston, when a breeze has pre- 
 vailed, and there has been no other building 
 near to reflect the heat of the sun, I have 
 known the mercury in Fahrenheit's ther- 
 mometer to stand at loi. In the night it did 
 not sink below 89. 
 
 Animal heat I ascertained to be less than the 
 heat of the weather. By confining the ther- 
 mometer to the hottest part of my body, I found 
 the mercury subside from loi to 96. In fact 
 I never could raise the thermometer higher 
 than 96 by animal heat.* 
 
 In a voyage to the East Indies, I kept a 
 regular account of the height of the ther- 
 mometer, both in the sun and shade. My 
 journal is now before me. At eight in the 
 morning, when our ship was on the Equator, 
 the thermometer in the shade was only 77 de- 
 grees ; and the same day in the sun at noon it 
 was 99.t 
 
 It may be advanced that the pavements of 
 Charleston, and the situation of Savannah, 
 which is built on a sandy eminence, may aug- 
 ment the heat of the weather; but be that as 
 
 * Boerhave fixed the vital heat at only 92 degrees ; but both 
 Sir Isaac Newton and Fahrenheit have made it 96. 
 
 fl have found since making these observations, that from 
 nearly 4000 experiments made at Madras, the medium height 
 of the thermometer was 80,9. The general greatest height, 
 87,1 ; and the least, 75,5. The extreme difference 
 
I03 
 
 it may, it is, I think, incontrovertible, that no 
 two places on the earth are hotter than Savan- 
 nah and Charleston. I do not remember that 
 the thermometer in the shade at Batavia ex- 
 ceeded lOI. 
 
 But if the heat of the weather in the south- 
 ernmost States be excessive,* not less sudden 
 are its changes. In fact, so variable is the 
 weather, that one day not infrequently exhibits 
 the vicissitudes of the four seasons. The re- 
 mark of an early colonist is more than poeti- 
 cally true. 
 
 Hie adeo inconstans est, et variable calum, 
 Una ut non raro est cestus hiemsque die. 
 
 I have known one day the mercury to stand 
 at 85 ; and the next it has sunk to 39. 
 
 But it is from the middle of June to the 
 middle of September, that the excessive heats 
 prevail. It is then the debilitating quality of 
 the weather consigns the languid lady to her 
 sopha, who, if she lets fall her pocket hand- 
 kerchief, has not strength to pick it up, but 
 calls to one of her black girls, who is all life 
 and vigour. Hence there is a proportion of 
 
 [* A letter from Georgia is given in American Husbandry, 
 London, 1775 (II, 7). The writer says, "In the observations 
 I have made on the climate's being uncommonly hot, I con- 
 fine myself entirely to the hottest part of the summer, July, 
 August, and part of September, and perhaps, but not always, 
 a week the latter end of June. As to the rest of the year, 
 you have no idea of the charms of this climate at a distance 
 from the sea."] 
 
I04 
 
 good and evil in every condition ; for a negro- 
 girl is not more a slave to her mistress, than 
 her mistress to a sopha; and the one riots in 
 health, while the other has every faculty 
 enervated. 
 
 Negroes are remarkably tolerant of heat. 
 A negro in the hottest month will court a fire. 
 
 From the black there is an easy transition to 
 the white man. Society in Carolina exhibits 
 not that unrestrained intercourse which char- 
 acterises English manners. And this remark 
 will apply throughout the States of the Union. 
 The English have been called reserved; and 
 an American who forms his notions of their 
 manners from Addison and aS/^^/^, entertains a 
 contemptible opinion of the cheerfulness that 
 prevails in the nook-shotten isle of Albion. 
 
 But let the cheerfulness of both countries 
 be fairly weighed, and I believe the scale will 
 preponderate in favour of the English. That 
 quality termed humour is not indigenous to 
 America. The pleasantries of a droll would 
 not relax the risible muscles of a party of 
 Americans, however disposed to be merry; 
 the wag would feel no encouragement from 
 the surrounding countenances to exert his 
 laughter-moving powers; but like the tyrant 
 in the tragedy, he would be compelled to 
 swallow the poison that was prepared for 
 another. 
 
 Cotton in Carolina, and horse-racing in 
 
105 
 
 Virginia, are the prevailing topics of conver- 
 sation : these reduce every understanding to a 
 level, and to these Americans return from the 
 ebullitions of the humourist, as the eye weary 
 of contemplating the sun, rejoices to behold 
 the verdure. 
 
 Captain Pelotte, who, I have observed, 
 composed one of our hunting party, having 
 invited me to the review of the Militia of 
 Coosohatchie district, I rode with him to 
 the muster-field near Bees-Creek, where his 
 troop was assembled. It was a pleasant spot 
 of thirty acres, belonging to a school-master, 
 who educated the children of the families in 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 There is scarcely any contemplation more 
 pleasing than the sight of a flock of boys and 
 girls just let loose from school. Those whom 
 nature designed for an active, enterprising 
 life, will contend for being the foremost to 
 cross the threshold of the school-door; while 
 others of a more wary temper keep remote 
 from the strife. 
 
 A throng of boys and girls was just released 
 from the confinement of the school, as I 
 reached Bee's Creek with Captain Pelotte. 
 Our horses and they were mutually ac- 
 quainted. The beasts pricked up their ears, 
 and some of the children saluted them by 
 name; while some, regardless of both the 
 horses and their riders, were earnestly pursu- 
 
io6 
 
 ing butterflies; some stooping to gather flow- 
 ers ; some chaunting songs ; and all taking the 
 road that led to the muster-field. If ever I 
 felt the nature that breathes through Shen- 
 stone's School poem, it was on beholding this 
 band of little men and little women. 
 
 And now Dan Phoebus gains the middle skie. 
 
 And Liberty unbars her prison-door. 
 And like a rushing torrent, out they fly. 
 
 And now the grassy cirque is cover d o'er 
 With boisterous revel-rout and wild uproar; 
 
 A thousand ways in wanton rings they run. 
 Heav'n shield their short-liv'd pastimes, I implore! 
 
 For well may Freedom, erst so dearly won. 
 Be to Columbia s sons more gladsome than the sun." * 
 
 Captain Pelotte having reviewed his sol- 
 diers, marched them triumphantly round a 
 huge oak that grew in the centre of the pa- 
 rade, animated by the sound of the spirit- 
 stirring drum; and afterwards laid siege to a 
 dinner of venison in the open air, to which I 
 gave my assistance. It was a republican meal. 
 Captain, Lieutenants, and Privates, all sat 
 down together at table, and mingled in fa- 
 miliar converse. But the troop devoured 
 such an enormous quantity of rice, that I was 
 more than once inclined to believe they had 
 emigrated from China. 
 
 On the yth of April 1799, I accepted the 
 invitation of a Mr. Wilson, who was visiting 
 
 i* The Schoolmistress, St. 30.] 
 
107 
 
 the family at Ocean, to accompany him to 
 Savannah; glad with the opportunity to ex- 
 tend my travels into Georgia, and not less 
 happy to cultivate his acquaintance. 
 
 We left Ocean plantation at eight in the 
 morning. Mr. Wilson drove himself in a 
 sulky, and I rode on horseback, followed by a 
 servant on another. 
 
 Our journey offered nothing to view but an 
 uncultivated tract, or one continued pine bar- 
 ren; for Priesburg * is a village composed 
 of only three houses, and Barnazoba can boast 
 only the same number of plantations. 
 
 Having refreshed ourselves in the house of 
 Mrs. Hay ward's Overseer, (the lady was gone 
 to Charleston) we waded from Barnazoba, 
 through mud and mire to the mouth of a 
 creek, where we embarked with a couple of 
 negroes in a canoe, and were paddled into a 
 small river that empties itself into that of 
 Savannah. Again we landed, and walked 
 about a mile to another plantation, of which 
 the white people were absent, but the negroes 
 remained. Jee Chri! exclaimed a negro- 
 wench, too much buckra come here today, for 
 true! Here we launched a large canoe, and 
 were rowed to my companion's plantation; 
 dining on the water in our passage thither. 
 The negroes of the plantation beheld the com- 
 ing of Mr. Wilson with joy; old and young 
 of both sexes came to the landing place to 
 
 [* Purysburg.] 
 
io8 
 
 welcome his approach. The canoe was in a 
 moment run high and dry upon the beach, and 
 the air resounded with acclamations. 
 
 We left the plantation in a four-oared 
 canoe, and were rowed with velocity up the 
 beautiful river of Savannah. Quantities of 
 alligators were basking in the sun on both 
 shores. They brought to my recollection the 
 happy description of Ariosto. 
 
 Vive sub lito e dentro a la Riviera, 
 Ei corpi umane son le sue vivande, 
 De le persone misere e incaute, 
 Di Viandanti b d'infelice naute.* 
 
 This animal (says the poet) lives on the river 
 and its banks; preying on human flesh: the 
 bodies of unwary travellers, of passengers, 
 and of sailors. 
 
 We landed at Yamacraw, the name given by 
 the Indians to the spot on which part of Sa- 
 vannah is built; and after ploughing through 
 one or two streets of sand, we reached Dil- 
 lon's boarding-house, where we were oblig- 
 ingly received, and comfortably accommo- 
 dated. There was a large party at supper com- 
 posed principally of cotton manufacturers 
 from Manchester, whose conversation oper- 
 ated on me like a dose of opium. Cotton! 
 
 [* E grande, a maraviglia questa fiera ; 
 Vive molto, e vivendo sempre cresce : 
 Sta ora in terra, ed or nella riviera. 
 
 Berni : Orlando, III, 3, 6.] 
 
109 
 
 Cotton! Cotton! Cotton! was their never- 
 ceasing topic. Oh! how many Travellers 
 would have devoured up their discourse; for 
 my part I fell asleep, and nodded till a negro 
 offered to light me to my room.* 
 
 Savannah is built on a sandy eminence. 
 Let the English reader picture to himself a 
 town erected on the cliffs of Dover, and he 
 will behold Savannah. But the streets are so 
 insupportably sandy, that every inhabitant 
 wears goggles over his eyes, which give the 
 people an appearance of being in masquerade. 
 When the wind is violent Savannah is a desart 
 scene. 
 
 Having purchased a little edition of Mrs. 
 Smith's sonnets, t my delight was to ascend 
 the eminence which commands the view of 
 the river, and read my book undisturbed. 
 With my pencil I wrote on my tablets the fol- 
 lowing sonnet to the author. 
 
 SONNET TO CHARLOTTE SMITH. 
 
 BLEST Poetess! who tell'st so soft thy woe, 
 I love to ponder o'er thy mournful lay, 
 
 In climes remote, where wan, forlorn and slow, 
 To the wash'd strand I bend my listless way. 
 
 [* Historically the visit of these manufacturers is very 
 interesting. De Quincey, who was a Manchester man, says 
 somewhere that of all talk the purely literary is the worst, 
 and that the talk of merchants is apt to be the wisest and the 
 best] 
 
 [t Charlotte Smith, 1749-1806. Elegiac Sonnets and Other 
 Poems. 1797.] 
 
no 
 
 Now, on Savannah's cliffs, I wayward read. 
 In joy of grief, thy pity-moving strain. 
 
 While smiles afar the variegated mead. 
 
 And not a wave disturbs the tranquil main. 
 
 Like thee, the Muse has from my infant hours, 
 With smiles alluring won me to the grove; 
 
 Snatch'd, in a playful mood, some scatter'd flow'rs 
 To deck my head, gay emblems of her love : 
 
 But mine of light, deceitful hues are made. 
 While thine of bloom perennial ne'er will fade. 
 
 The nth of April, I returned with Mr. 
 Wilson to the woods of Coosohatchie, which, 
 I found Mr. Drayton and family, about to 
 leave to their original tenants of racoons, 
 squirrels, and opossums. 
 
 My table was covered with letters that were 
 truly Ciceronian, from my elegant friend. 
 Mr. George had left the sublime College of 
 Charleston, for a seminary less famous, but 
 more profitable, at George-town, at the con- 
 fluence of the rivers Winyaw and Waccamaw. 
 There, in concert with his uncle, an Episcopal 
 Minister, he enjoyed an elegant society, and 
 indulged in his favourite studies. 
 
Ill 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Picture of a Family travelling through the Woods, 
 — Terror Inspired by two Snakes, and the gal- 
 lantry of an American boy. — Residence at Ash- 
 ley River. — Removal to Sullivan's Island. — 
 Literary Projects. — Anecdotes of Goldsmith. — 
 A Journey on Foot from Charleston to George- 
 town. — Elegy over the Grave of a Stranger in 
 the W oods of Owendaw. — Reception at George- 
 town. — Death of General Washington. — Jour- 
 ney back to Charleston. — Embark for New 
 York. — Incidents of the Voyage. 
 
 It was in the month of May, 1799, that Mr. 
 Drayton and his family exchanged the sav- 
 age woods of Coosohatchie, for the politer 
 residence of their mansion on Ashley River. 
 In our migration we formed quite a proces- 
 sion. Mr. Drayton occupied the coach with 
 his lady and youngest daughter, and I ad- 
 vanced next with my fair pupil in a chair, 
 followed by William Henry on a prancing 
 nag, and half a dozen negro fellows, indiffer- 
 ently mounted, but wearing the laced livery of 
 an opulent master. Thus hemmed in by the 
 coach before, a troop of horsemen behind, 
 and impenetrable woods on both sides, I 
 could not refrain from whispering in the ear 
 of my companion, that her friends had put it 
 
112 
 
 out of my power to run away with her that 
 day. 
 
 About three in the afternoon, our journey 
 being suspended by the heat of the weather, 
 we stopped to eat a cold dinner, in a kind of 
 lodge that had been erected by some hunters 
 on the roadside, and which now hospitably 
 accommodated a family travelling through 
 the woods. 
 
 Here we took possession of the benches 
 round the table to enjoy our repast: turning 
 the horses loose to seek the shade ; and cooling 
 our wine in a spring that murmured near the 
 spot. William Henry, having snatched a 
 morsel, got ready his fowling-piece, to pene- 
 trate the woods in search of wild turkies ; and 
 while we were rallying him on his passion for 
 hunting, the cry from a negro of a rattlesnake! 
 disturbed our tranquillity. The snake was 
 soon visible to every eye, dragging its slow 
 length along the root of a large tree, and di- 
 recting its attention to a bird, which chattered 
 and fluttered from above, and seemed irre- 
 sistibly disposed to fall into his distended 
 jaws. London, a negro-servant, had snatched 
 up a log, and was advancing to strike the 
 monster a blow in the head, when a black 
 snake, hastening furiously to the spot, imme- 
 diately gave battle to the rattlesnake, and sus- 
 pended, by his unexpected appearance, the 
 power of the negro's arm. We now thought 
 
113 
 
 we had got into a nest of snakes, and the girls 
 were screaming with fright, when, William 
 Henry, taking an unerring aim with his gun, 
 shot the rattlesnake, in the act of repulsing 
 his enemy. The black snake, without a mo- 
 ment's procrastination, returned into the 
 woods, and profiting by his example, we all 
 pursued our journey, except William Henry, 
 who stopped with a negro to take out the 
 rattles of the monster he had killed. My 
 pupil presented me with these rattles, which 
 I carried for three years in my pocket, and 
 finally gave them to the son of a Mr. An- 
 drews, of W arminster, who had emigrated to 
 Baltimore, and had been to me singularly 
 obliging.* 
 
 We stopped a few days at Stono, where we 
 
 * Much has been said by Travellers of the fascinating power 
 of snakes in America. Credat Judceus Apella, non Ego! 
 Things are best illustrated by comparison. It is known to 
 almost every man who has not passed his days in the smoke 
 of London, Salisbury, or Bristol, but incited by the desire 
 of knowledge, has made a Tour into the country; I maintain 
 it could not escape the observation of such a Tourist, that 
 birds will flatten their wings, and exhibit the utmost agita- 
 tion, at the approach of a fox near a tree on which they are 
 perched. Filled with the same dread, a bird in America 
 cannot refrain from fluttering over a snake; and the Ameri- 
 can snakes, however inferior in cunning to the English foxes, 
 being endowed with more perseverance; fear deprives the 
 bird of motion, and it falls into his jaws. It is by thus 
 tracing effects to their causes that truth is promulgated; 
 and hence I am enabled to detect and expose the fallacious- 
 ness of the opinion, that there is any charm, or fascination 
 in the eye of a snake. 
 
114 
 
 were kindly received by Mr. Wilson, my late 
 travelling companion into Georgia. I ex- 
 pected that William Henry would receive the 
 applauses of his friends for the presence of 
 mind he had displayed in killing the rattle- 
 snake; but when the youngest sister recited 
 the story to the family; they heard her with- 
 out emotion, and only smiled at it as a trifling 
 incident. 
 
 In the venerable mansion at Ashley River* 
 I again directed the intellectual progress of 
 my interesting pupils, and, enlarged the 
 imagination of William, by putting Pope's 
 version of the Odyssey into his hands, which 
 I found among other books that composed the 
 family library. He had before read the 
 Iliad; but neither Patroclus slain by Hector, 
 nor Hector falling beneath the avenging arm 
 of Achilles, imparted half the rapture which 
 Ulysses inspired with his companions in the 
 cave of Polyphemus. I am of the opinion of 
 Warton,^ that the great variety of events and 
 scenes exhibited in the Odyssey, cannot fail to 
 excite a more lively interest than the martial 
 uniformity of the Iliad. 
 
 The garden of Mr. Drayton's mansion led 
 to the banks of Ashley River, which after a 
 rapid course of twenty miles, discharged it- 
 
 [*" Magnolia," now the famous Magnolia Gardens.] 
 [t Joseph Warton, Essay on Pope, Vol. I, i757 ; Vol. II, 
 1782.] 
 
"5 
 
 self into the Atlantic. The river was not 
 wanting in picturesqueness, and, once, while 
 stretched at my ease on its banks, I meditated 
 an Ode. 
 
 ODE ON ASHLEY RIVER* 
 
 ON gentle Ashley's winding flood, 
 
 Enjoying philosophic rest; 
 I court the calm, umbrageous wood, 
 
 No more with baleful care opprest. 
 
 Or, on its banks supinely laid. 
 
 The distant mead and field survey. 
 
 Where branching laurels form a shade 
 To keep me from the solar ray. 
 
 While flows the limpid stream along. 
 With quick meanders through the grove, 
 
 And from each bird is heard the song 
 Of careless gaiety and love. 
 
 And when the moon, with lustre bright. 
 Around me throws her silver beam, 
 
 I catch new transport from the sight, 
 And view her shadow in the stream. 
 
 While Whip-poor-will repeats his tale. 
 That echoes from the boundless plain ; 
 
 And blithsome to the passing gale. 
 
 The Mocking-bird pours out his strain. 
 
 Hence with a calm, contented mind, 
 Sweet pleasure comes without alloy; 
 
 Our own felicity we find — 
 
 Tis from the heart springs genuine joy. 
 
 [* Later, Hayne made verses on Ashley River.] 
 
ii6 
 
 An elder brother of Mr. Drayton was our 
 neighbour on the river; he occupied, perhaps, 
 the largest house and gardens in the United 
 States of America.* Indeed I was now breath- 
 ing the politest atmosphere in America; for 
 our constant visitors were the highest people 
 in the State, and possessed of more house- 
 servants than there are inhabitants in Occo- 
 quan. These people never moved but in a 
 carriage, lolled on sophas instead of sitting 
 on chairs, and were always attended by their 
 negroes to fan them with a peacock's feather. 
 Such manners were ill suited to an English- 
 man [who] loved his ease; and who, when- 
 ever their carriages were announced, I always 
 took my gun, and went into the woods. Oh! 
 for a freedom from the restraint imposed by 
 well-bred inanity. 
 
 From Ashley River, after a short residence, 
 we removed to Charleston, which was full of 
 visitors from the woods, and exhibited a mot- 
 ley scene. Here was to be perceived a 
 Coachee, without a glass to exclude the dust, 
 driven by a black fellow, not less proud of 
 the livery of luxury, than the people within 
 the vehicle were of a suit made in the fashion. 
 There was to be discovered a Carolinian buck, 
 who had left off essences and powder, and, in 
 what related to his hair, resembled an ancient 
 Roman; but in the distribution of his dress, 
 
 [* Charles Drayton, of " Drayton Hall," on Ashley River.] 
 
117 
 
 was just introducing that fashion in Charles- 
 ton, which was giving way in succession to 
 another in London. But he had an advantage 
 over his transatlantic rival ; he not only owned 
 the horse he rode, but the servant who fol- 
 lowed. To be brief, such is the pride of the 
 people of Charleston, that no person is seen 
 on foot unless it be a mechanic, or some 
 mechanical Tutor. He who is without horses 
 and slaves incurs always contempt. The con- 
 sideration of property has such an empire 
 over the mind, that poverty and riches are 
 contemplated through the medium of infamy 
 and virtue. Even negroes are infected with 
 this idea; and Cuffey shall be heard to ex- 
 claim, He great blackguard that — he got no 
 negur. Where his horse? He alway walk, 
 I found my f riend Doctor De Bow in high 
 repute at Charleston, and not without the 
 hope that he should soon keep his carriage. 
 Scrihimus docti indoctique. He was busy in 
 writing a piece for the Medical Repository at 
 New-York; that is, he was communicating 
 his thoughts in a letter to the great Doctor 
 Mitchel* His object was to undermine the 
 fame of the Charleston Physicians, by expos- 
 ing the impropriety of their treatment of the 
 Croup; a complaint uncommonly prevalent 
 in the Southern States of the Union. " This 
 
 [* Samuel Latham Mitchill, 1764-1831, " Nestor of Amer- 
 can Science."] 
 
ii8 
 
 " treatise, whispered the Doctor, will make 
 " me be called in to children, and if I once 
 " get the child for a patient, I shall soon have 
 " the parents. Oh! that I could only express 
 "my thoughts on paper! I would carry 
 " every thing before me. But writing and 
 " talking require very different qualifications. 
 " Impudence will make an orator ; but to write 
 " well requires reading digested by reflection." 
 
 The Doctor entreated I would lend him 
 my assistance to write his Essay on the Croup. 
 I begged to be excused by professing my utter 
 unacquaintance with the mode of treating the 
 disease. 
 
 " No matter, said the Doctor. How to 
 " treat the disease no man knows better than 
 " I ; but treating it, and writing a treatise on 
 " it are things widely different. Come, let 
 " me dictate to you the heads of the discourse, 
 " and do you lengthify and ramify them 
 " secundum artem into a treatise. Quote a 
 " good deal of Latin, and dignify your style 
 " with all the hard words you can remember. 
 " But let the title be powerful; let it smite the 
 " eye of the reader with irresistible force. 
 " For the Medical Repository! New, but un- 
 " answerable, objections against the present 
 " mode of treating the Croup by the Physi- 
 " cians of Charleston; communicated in a let- 
 
 ter to Dr. Mitchel, by W. De Bow, M.D.— 
 *^ Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri! " 
 
119 
 
 Bravo, cried I. And now, Doctor, for a 
 few words of introduction to the philippic. 
 
 That, sir, you shall have; I never could 
 endure a play without a prologue. Why, 
 say (but write the first word in capitals), 
 " PHYSICIANS, however they may be es- 
 " tablished and in vogue, are yet liable to be 
 " mistaken in their prognostics and diagnos- 
 " tics. Humanum est errare!" 
 
 The Doctor was here interrupted by a negro 
 boy, who called him to attend his master in 
 the last stage of the yellow fever. The Doc- 
 tor immediately slipped on a black coat, put 
 his enormous spectacles on his nose, and 
 snatching up his gold-headed cane, followed 
 the negro down stairs. 
 
 The Doctor being gone, it was not possible 
 to do justice to the Treatise on the Croup ; but 
 finding myself disposed to write something, 
 I addressed my friend in an Ode. The Doc- 
 tor was about to embark for the Havannah as 
 Surgeon of a ship ; and his approaching voy- 
 age furnished me with a hint. 
 
 ODE TO WILLIAM DE BOW, M.D. 
 
 SINCE on the ocean's boundless deep, 
 Once more impelled by fate you go, 
 
 The Muse the trembling wire would sweep, 
 And soft invoke each gale to blow. 
 
 Long has it been our doom to roam. 
 
 With hearts by friendship's cement bound. 
 
120 
 
 (The world at large our only home) 
 O'er many a wide expanse of ground. 
 
 At Philadelphia's sad confine, 
 
 Where death stalk'd round with aspect wild, 
 We saw the widow vainly pine, 
 
 And heard the mother mourn her child : 
 
 While desolation mark'd the scene, 
 And groans of dying fill'd each gale. 
 
 Where dance no more rejoic'd the green. 
 Nor song re-echo'd from the dale. 
 
 May no such griefs again demand 
 
 The sigh of pity from thy breast, 
 But jocund pleasure's mirthful band, 
 
 Sooth ev'ry baleful care to rest. 
 
 Then festive let thy moments flow. 
 
 While round thee roars the briny flood ; 
 
 May ev'ry breeze auspicious blow. 
 And nought provoke the wat'ry god. 
 
 Having leisure for some literary under- 
 taking, I issued a prospectus for the publica- 
 tion of two Voyages to the East Indies. The 
 work was to be comprised in an octavo vol- 
 ume, and delivered to subscribers for two 
 dollars. Mr. Drayton, without hesitation, 
 subscribed for ten copies ; and in a few weeks 
 I could boast a long list of subscribers from 
 the circles of fashion. 
 
 Shortly after, the Farmers' Museum, pub- 
 lished in New Hampshire, was found to con- 
 tain a curious notice on the subject; "The 
 
121 
 
 Translator of Buonaparte's Campaign, 
 whose poetry we have praised in a former 
 Museum, has issued a subscription-paper, 
 for the publication of Two Voyages to the 
 " East Indies. From the genius of this Gen- 
 " tleman, we have the strongest reason to con- 
 " elude, that his work will be a pleasing pro- 
 duction. But these are coster-monger times 
 for his book, and ere the date of fresh liter- 
 " ary disappointment begin, he should remem- 
 " ber that if in any of the peddling streets of 
 Charleston, Philadelphia, Boston, or New- 
 York, he were to expose for sale a single 
 " bale of Gurrahs, or Hummum, it would ad- 
 vance his fortune and reputation more than 
 " by writing volumes of instructive or amus- 
 ing narrative. We wish this writer success; 
 " to ensure it, let him direct his bookseller to 
 make a shipment to England of the whole 
 impression." * 
 
 It is difficult to say, whether this encomium 
 of Mr. Dennie promoted or retarded the sub- 
 scription to the volume; but it was of little 
 consequence, for notwithstanding my friend 
 George wrote a poetical epistle for the work, 
 I contented myself with abridging it for my 
 own amusement. 
 
 [* Warrant for the Edinburgh Reviewer's celebrated ques- 
 tions, posed twenty years later: 'Who reads an American 
 book? who drinks out of American glasses? or eats from 
 American plates? or wears American coats or gowns? or 
 sleeps in American blankets?' Edinburgh Review, Ho. 65.] 
 
122 
 
 To avoid the fever which every summer 
 commits its ravages at Charleston, Mr. Dray- 
 ton removed with his family in July to a con- 
 venient house on Sullivan's Island. The front 
 windows commanded a view of the Atlantic, 
 whose waves broke with fury not a hundred 
 yards from the door. It is almost super- 
 fluous to observe, that Sullivan's Island lies 
 opposite to Charleston, at the distance of eight 
 miles. 
 
 In the garden on our premises, I took pos- 
 session of a neat little box, which served me 
 for a seminary, and house of repose. Here 
 I was gratified with the company of Mr. 
 George, who came to visit me from George- 
 town. Not more joyous was the meeting of 
 Flaccus and Maro at the Appian Way : 
 
 0/ qui complexus, et gaudia quanta fuerunt!* 
 
 He was received with every elegance of ur- 
 banity by Mr. and Mrs. Drayton; but he com- 
 pared our situation to Mneas among the 
 Greeks; vadimus immixti Danais haud num- 
 ine nostra. So natural is it for a wit to ridicule 
 his host. 
 
 Passage-boats are always to be procured 
 from Sullivan's Island to Charleston, and I 
 was introduced by my friend to an Irish 
 Clergyman, of the name of Best, who was 
 attached to Mr. George, partly from his being 
 
 [* Hor. Sat., I, 5, 43-] 
 
123 
 
 an Irishman, and partly from esteem for his 
 attainments. 
 
 Mr. Best communicated to me a few anec- 
 dotes relative to Goldsmith, which I minuted 
 down in his presence. 
 
 " The Deserted Village, said he, relates to 
 " scenes in which Goldsmith was an actor. 
 " Auburn is a poetical name for the village 
 " of Lissoy, in the county of Westmeath 
 " Barony, Kilkenny West. The name of the 
 " schoolmaster was Paddy Burns. I remem- 
 " her him well. He was indeed a man severe 
 " to view. A woman called Walsey Cruse, 
 " kept the ale house." 
 
 " Imagination fondly stoops to trace 
 The parlour-splendors of the festive place." 
 
 " I have often been in the house. 
 
 " The hawthorn bush was remarkably large, 
 " and stood opposite the alehouse. I was once 
 " riding with Brady, titular Bishop of Ar- 
 " dagh, when he observed to me. Ma foy, 
 " Best, this huge, overgrown bush, is mightily 
 " in the way ; I will order it to be cut down. 
 " What, Sir, said I, cut down Goldsmith's 
 " Hawthorn-Bush, that supplies so beautiful 
 " an image in the Deserted Village! Ma foy! 
 " exclaimed the Bishop, is that the hawthorn- 
 "bush! Then ever let it be sacred to the edge 
 " of the axe, and evil to him that would cut 
 from it a branch." 
 
124 
 
 Mr. Best also related to me some anecdotes 
 that would serve to illustrate the Traveller, 
 which I regret are not preserved, for the 
 Traveller is a poem that is ever read with new 
 rapture. The mind can scarcely refrain from 
 picturing Goldsmith in the capacity of an 
 Adventurer; travelling with an expansion to 
 his mental powers, and feeling the impulse of 
 his poetical genius; observing with a philo- 
 sophic eye the mingled scenes before him, and 
 framing from their diversity the subject of his 
 poem. 
 
 The stone of Sisyphus calling my friend 
 back to George-town, I was once more left to 
 the tuition of William Henry, and his sisters. 
 My pupil was not, I believe, content with his 
 insular situation, but sighed for the woods, his 
 dogs, and his gun. Man laughs at the sports 
 of children; but even their most trifling pas- 
 times form his most serious occupations; and 
 their drums, and rattles, and hobbyhorses, are 
 but the emblems and mockery of the business 
 of mature age. 
 
 No families are more migratory than those 
 of Carolina. From Sullivan's Island we went 
 again to the mansion on Ashley River, where 
 I had invitations to hunt, to feast and to dance. 
 But nothing could sooth the despondency I 
 felt on the approaching return of Mr. Dray- 
 ton to the woods of Coosohatchie. He guessed 
 the cause of my woe-begone looks, and, rather 
 
125 
 
 than be deprived of my services, politely of- 
 fered to pass the winter on the banks of Ash- 
 ley River: Nay, he even proposed to send his 
 son, when the war terminated, to make with 
 me the tour of the Continent of Europe. 
 There are few men that in my situation would 
 have resisted such allurements ; but I dreaded 
 the tainted atmosphere that had despatched so 
 many of my countrymen to the house ap- 
 pointed for all living; and, filled with appre- 
 hension, I left this charming family in whose 
 bosom I had been so kindly cherished, to seek 
 another climate, and brave again the rigours 
 of adversity.* 
 
 *Tbe mortality among foreigners during the summer 
 months, at Charleston, is incredibly great. Few Europeans 
 escape that plague of plagues the yellow fever. The attack is 
 always sudden, and lays hold of the strongest. He whose veins 
 glowed but yesterday with health shall to-day be undergoing 
 the agonies of the damned. The temporal arteries of the 
 wretched victim are ready to burst; black vomiting ensues; 
 the skin turns yellow ; the man so lately rioting in lustihood 
 is without the strength of a child; and his tongue lolling out, 
 he dies delirious. 
 
 " What now avail 
 The strong-built sinewy limbs, and well-spread shoulders? 
 See how he tugs for life, and lays about him, 
 Mad with his pain ! The sight how hideous ! 
 Oh ! how his eyes stand out, and stare full ghastly ! 
 While the distemper's rank and deadly venom 
 Shoots like a burning arrow cross his bowels. 
 And drinks his marrow up. Heard you that groan? 
 'Twas his last. See how the great Goliah, 
 Just like a child that crawl'd itself to rest. 
 Lies still." 
 
 [The author's footnote is one of alarm. The mortality 
 
126 
 
 The fifteenth of December, 1799, I rode 
 from Ashley River to Charleston, with the 
 design of proceeding to George-town, and 
 visiting the academic bowers of my friend. I 
 had again determined to travel on foot, and 
 enjoy the meditations produced from walking 
 and smoking amidst the awful solitude of the 
 woods. Having provided myself with a 
 pouch of Havannah segars, and put a poem 
 into my pocket, which Mr. George had com- 
 posed over the grave of a stranger on the road, 
 I crossed the ferry at Cooper's River, and 
 began my journey from a spot that retains the 
 aboriginal name of Hobcaw. 
 
 In travelling through an endless tract of 
 pines, a man can find few objects to describe, 
 but he may have some reflections to deliver. 
 I was journeying through endless forests, that, 
 once inhabited by numerous races of Indians, 
 were now without any individual of their 
 original possessors; for the diseases and lux- 
 uries introduced by the Colonist had exter- 
 minated the greater number, and the few 
 wretches that survived, had sought a new 
 country beyond the rivers and mountains.* 
 
 from yellow fever among strangers in Charleston at that time 
 was undoubtedly high. See, Dr. David Ramsay's Charleston 
 Medical Register for 1802, reviewed in Medical Repository, 
 VI, 308 ff. Dr. Ramsay gives an interesting account of an 
 attempt, during the hot season, to rob the Charleston Bank. 
 The operator, a Kentucky man, was ninety days underground: 
 the hypothesis is that desire of gain rendered him immune.] 
 [*Not very distant. The country between Knoxville and 
 
127 
 
 For the last fifteen miles of my journey I 
 encountered no human being but a way-faring 
 German ; and heard no sound but that of the 
 wood-pecker,* and the noise of the negroe's 
 axe felling trees. There was no other object to 
 employ the sight, and no other noise to disturb 
 the repose of the desert. 
 
 I supped and slept at a solitary tavern kept 
 by young Mr. Dubusk, whose three sisters 
 might have sat to a painter for the Graces. 
 Delicate were their shapes, transparent their 
 skins, and the fire of their eyes drove the 
 traveller to madness. Finding my young land- 
 lord companionable, I asked him why he did 
 not pull down the sign of General Washing- 
 ton, that was over his door, and put up the 
 portrait of his youngest sister. That, said he, 
 would be a want of modesty: and, besides, if 
 Jemima is really handsome, she can want no 
 efiigy; for good wine, as we landlords say, 
 needs no bush. 
 
 Mr. Dubusk was a mighty great dancer. 
 
 Nashville, Tennessee, was Indian Territory then, and the 
 Creeks and Chickasaws lay to the south. In 1796 and 1797 
 Francis Baily, later President of the Royal Astronomical So- 
 ciety, travelled through that region. Cf. his Journal of a Tour 
 in Unsettled Parts of North America. London, 1856, pp. 346 
 ff.] 
 
 * The wood-pecker of Carolina, in striking his beak against 
 a tree, makes a quick, sharp noise, which he keeps up for some 
 time by repetition. An emigrant planter on first hearing it, 
 was terrified beyond measure ; and ran pale and quaking to his 
 house, calling out, a rattlesnake ! oh ! a rattlesnake ! 
 
128 
 
 Indeed, he would frequently fall a capering, 
 unconscious of being observed. But he swore 
 he would dance no more in the day-time, be- 
 cause it was ungenteel. We drew our chairs 
 near the fire after supper, when Mr. Dubusk 
 did his utmost to entertain me. He related 
 that, only a few nights before, some sparks 
 had put a black-pudding into his bed, which, 
 by the moon-light through his window, his ap- 
 prehension magnified into a black snake, and 
 made him roar out murder! 
 
 What, cried I, can you, who are a native of 
 Carolina, be afraid of a snake? Not, said he, 
 if I meet him on the road, or in the woods. I 
 wish I had as many acres of land as I have 
 killed rattlesnakes in this country. My plan- 
 tation would be a wide one. — Mr. Dubusk 
 was somewhat a wag. Being called on after 
 supper to sing the patriotic song of Hail 
 Columbia; he parodied it with much drollery. 
 
 Hail Columbia! happy land! 
 Full of pines, and burning sand! 
 
 At this I was surprised; for Hail Columbia 
 exacts not less reverence in America, than the 
 Marselloise Hymn in France, and Rule Bri- 
 tannia in England. 
 
 Before I quit the subject of Mr. Dubusk, 
 I will mention a delicacy of conduct which I 
 could not but remark in him; and which I 
 record for the imitation of American Plant- 
 
129 
 
 ers. Having thoughtlessly chastised a negro- 
 boy in the room, he apologized for doing it 
 before me ; a circumstance which verified the 
 observation that good breeding is the natural 
 result of good sense. 
 
 The next morning, Mr. Dubusk walked 
 with me a few miles on my road ; but my com- 
 panion having business at a plantation in the 
 woods, I was soon left to pursue my journey 
 alone through the sand. My sight was still 
 bounded by the same prospect as ever. I 
 could only distinguish before me a road that 
 seemed endless, and mossy forests on each 
 border of it. An European gazes with won- 
 der at the long and beautiful moss, that 
 spreading itself from the branches of one tree 
 to those of another, extends through whole 
 forests.* 
 
 It was now eight in the morning; the 
 weather was mild, and I walked vigorously 
 forward, chewing the cud of sweet and bitter 
 fancy. 
 
 At Darr's tavern, I found nobody but a 
 negro-woman, who was suckling her child, 
 and quieting its clamours by appropriating, 
 instead of a common rattle, the rattles of a 
 snake. I would have much rather heard her 
 
 * This moss when it becomes dead serves many useful pur- 
 poses. The negroes carry it to Charleston, where it is bought 
 to stuff mattrasses, and chair bottoms. The hunters always 
 use it for wadding to their guns. 
 
130 
 
 jingle the keys of the cupboard in the child's 
 ears; but, unfortunately for me, Mr. Darr was 
 gone out, and had taken the keys with him. 
 
 I was, therefore, glad to obtain a plate of 
 Mush* which having eaten sans milk, sans 
 sugar, and even sans molasses, I gave the good 
 woman a piece of silver, and again pursued 
 my journey. 
 
 Beshrew the Traveller who would let fall 
 a reflection over the dinner I here made. 
 Though plain, it was wholesome; and instead 
 of wishing it was better, I thanked God it 
 was not worse. 
 
 A walk of eight more miles brought me to 
 Owendaw bridge, and, taking a small path 
 that led into the woods, I sought for the grave 
 of a stranger, of whom tradition has preserved 
 no remembrance; and whose narrow house I 
 at length discovered under a large and stately 
 pine. I suppress the reflections which filled 
 my breast on beholding it. Mr. George had 
 anticipated me in a poem, which I meditated 
 over the grave in all the luxury of melancholy. 
 
 ELEGY OVER THE GRAVE OF AN UNKNOWN, 
 IN THE WOODS OF OWENDAW. 
 
 NOW while the sun in ocean rolls the day, 
 Pensive I view where yonder trees display 
 The lonely heap of earth, where here unmourn'd, 
 Beneath the pine the stranger lies inurn'd. 
 
 * Indian meal boiled. 
 
131 
 
 Near these green reeds, that shade the passing wave, 
 
 The grass proclaims the long neglected grave, 
 
 Where dark and drear the mossy forests rise, 
 
 And nature hides her form from mortal eyes; 
 
 Where never print of human step is found, 
 
 Nor ever sun-beam cheers the gloomy ground, 
 
 But towering pines the light of heaven preclude. 
 
 And cedars wave in endless solitude ; 
 
 Where stretch'd amid the leaves, the branching hind 
 
 Hears the tall cypress murmur to the wind. 
 
 All now unknown, if here this space of dust 
 
 Enclose the ashes of the base or just; 
 
 Nor wept by friendship, nor enroU'd by fame. 
 
 Without a tomb, and e'en without a name. 
 
 So rests amid these over-arching woods, 
 
 Some hapless corse, regardless of the floods, 
 
 Which oft around with angry deluge sweep. 
 
 And roll the wrecks of ages to the deep. 
 
 Those warring passions struggling to be free. 
 
 Those eyes that once the blaze of heaven could see; 
 
 That hand from which, perhaps, the brave retir'd ; 
 
 That heart which once the breath of life inspir'd, 
 
 Now shut forever from the face of day, 
 
 Claim but at last this narrow spot of clay. 
 
 Unhappy dust, no memory remains 
 
 Of what of thee once trod these gloomy plains. 
 
 Whether some wish, that fires the human breast 
 
 Of glory, or of wealth, was here supprest ; 
 
 Or great, or humble, was thy former lot,* 
 
 To all unknown, by all the world forgot ! 
 
 [* In the old churchyard at Cheraw, South Carolina, there 
 is a stone with this inscription — 
 
 "My name— my country— what are they to thee? 
 What — whether high or low my pedigree? 
 Perhaps I far surpassed all other men. 
 Perhaps I fell below them all— what then? 
 
132 
 
 But what is friendship or exalted fame, 
 
 Which time may wound, or Envy's eye may blame? 
 
 Alike the lofty and the low must lie, 
 
 Alike the hero and the slave must die ; 
 
 A few short years their names from earth shall sweep, 
 
 Unfelt as drops when mingling with the deep. 
 
 For thee no tomb arrests the passing eye. 
 
 No muse implores the tributary sigh. 
 
 Nor weeping sire shall hither press to mourn, 
 
 Nor frantic spouse invoke thee from thine urn; 
 
 But here unwept, beneath this gloomy pine, 
 
 Eternal nights of solitude are thine. 
 
 So when conflicting clouds, in thunder driven, 
 
 Shake to its base the firmament of heaven. 
 
 Prone on the earth the lofty cedar lies. 
 
 Unseen, and in an unknown valley dies: 
 
 So falls the towering pride of mortal state, 
 
 So perish all the glories of the great. 
 
 In vain with hope to distant realms we run. 
 
 Some bliss to share, or misery to shun. 
 
 In vain the man of narrow bosom flies, 
 
 Where meanness triumphs, and where honour dies; 
 
 And fills the sable bark with sordid ore, 
 
 To swell the pomps that curse a guilty shore ; 
 
 Pursu'd by fate through every realm and sea. 
 
 He falls at last unwept, unknown, like thee. 
 
 Pursuing my journey, in somewhat a de- 
 jected mood, I crossed over Owendaw Bridge, 
 and walked forward at a moderate rate. 
 In fact I regulated my pace by the sun, 
 
 Suffice it, stranger, that thou see'st a tomb. 
 
 Thou know'st its use; it hides no matter whom." 
 
 Cf. Idle Comments. By Erwin AverJ^ Charlotte, N. C, 
 1905-] 
 
133 
 
 which was descending behind me in the 
 woods, and at which I occasionally looked 
 back. 
 
 About night-fall I reached Mr. Mac 
 Gregorys tavern, of which the proximity was 
 announced by the axe of the negro chopping 
 wood. No sound can be more delightful than 
 this to the foot-traveller in America, when 
 night has cast its shadows over the face of the 
 country. It not only informs him that he is 
 near some human habitation; but associates 
 the welcome image of a warm fire-side, and 
 an invigorating supper. 
 
 The house of Mr. Mac Gregor was agree- 
 ably situated on the River Santee. But it was 
 filled with the Planters and young women 
 from the neighbouring woods, who had assem- 
 bled to celebrate their Christmas festival; for, 
 it was, I discovered, the anniversary of the 
 day that gave birth to our Redeemer. 
 Strange I that I should regard time so little, 
 as not to know that its inaudible and noiseless 
 feet had stolen through another year. 
 
 The party was, however, taking time by the 
 forelock. They had formed a dance! but 
 could not begin it for want of their musician, 
 whom they expected with impatience. 
 
 Curse that Orpheus! exclaimed one of the 
 young men, who held by the hand a little girl 
 of true virginal beauty, with fair hair float- 
 ing over her shoulders; curse that Orpheus! 
 
134 
 
 said he: I'll lay you,* he has got drunk again, 
 and has lost himself in the woods! Mac 
 Gregor, do lend me your horn; I'll go a little 
 way, and blow to him. 
 
 Do Jack, said the landlord. I hope some 
 bear or panther has not got him fast by the 
 nape of the neck. The old sinner is down 
 three shillings on the score. 
 
 Keep yourself cool, replied Jack. If I find 
 the Musicianer dead, I'll lodge an execution 
 against his fiddle for the benefit of his 
 creditors. 
 
 Jack snatched up the horn, and slipping on 
 his great coat, was about to sally into the 
 woods to seek for the lost Orpheus, when the 
 little girl, whose hand he had let go, antici- 
 pating his design, clung fondly round him, 
 and burst into a violent flood of tears. 
 
 Why! what ails you, Barbara, cried Jack. 
 
 You are go — go — going in the woods I 
 sobbed the afflicted girl. You'll meet with a — 
 a — a panther! 
 
 Woman! all conquering woman! thou art 
 every where the same; and thy empire over 
 rnan is every where confest. Whether in the 
 polished cities of Europe, or among the rude 
 forests of America, thou canst practice the 
 same arts, and inspire the same tenderness! 
 
 * Phrase of frequent occurrence among the southern Ameri- 
 cans. V My fortunes against any lay worth naming.' Othello, 
 2, 3. 330.] 
 
135 
 
 The ferocity of Jack was softened by the 
 mournful distraction of Barbara. It was a 
 ludicrous spectacle. Jack in the towering 
 height and breadth of his body, could scarcely, 
 I think, be inferior to Sampson; he would 
 have slain with his nervous arm a whole host 
 of enemies. Yet here he was killed himself 
 by only one glance from a virgin eye, that was 
 brimful of tears; for some minutes his speech 
 was suspended, and the giant could only look 
 and sigh unutterable things. Oh! for the 
 chisel of a Praxiteles, to represent this tender 
 damsel; the most seducing object that love 
 could employ to extend the limits of his em- 
 pire. Insensibility itself would have fallen 
 at the feet of so sweet a creature. 
 
 At length Jack recovered the use of his 
 faculties. He laid down the horn; and catch- 
 ing Barbara in his arms, smacked her lips 
 with such ardour, that he seemed to be tear- 
 ing up kisses by the roots. 
 
 The girls in company blushed, or held down 
 their heads; but the men fell into a roar of 
 such loud and obstinate laughter, that, like the 
 peal of Homer's gods, I thought it inextin- 
 guishable. 
 
 Mr. Mac Gregor now took the horn, and, 
 going to the door, began to blow it with 
 vehemence, and then to exclaim Orpheus! Yo 
 ho! Orpheus! Must I come and look for my 
 old snowball? 
 
136 
 
 At length a voice was heard to reply, 
 Who call Orpheus? That Mossa Mac 
 Gregee? Here Orpheus come! Here he 
 come himself! 
 
 It was not long before Orpheus made his 
 appearance in the shape of an old Guinea 
 Negro, scraping discord on a fiddle, reeling 
 about from side to side, and grinning in the 
 pride of his heart. 
 
 Each man now seized his partner, Orpheus 
 struck up a jig, and down the dance went 
 Jack and Barbara, with light, though un- 
 tutored steps. Not being for any of their 
 ambling, and finding that amidst such riot no 
 sleep was to be had, I summoned a negro, and 
 was paddled in a canoe, through Push-and-go 
 Creek, to the opposite bank of Santee River. 
 The Whip-poor-will, on my landing, was 
 heard from the woods; and in prosecuting my 
 walk, I meditated a sonnet to the bird. 
 
 SONNET TO THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 
 
 POOR, plaintive bird I whose melancholy lay 
 Suits the despondence of my troubled breast, 
 
 I hail thy coming at the close of day. 
 
 When all thy tribe are hush'd in balmy rest. 
 
 Wisely thou shunn'st the gay, tumultuous throng. 
 Whose mingled voices empty joys denote. 
 
 And for the sober night reserv'st thy song, 
 When echo from the v^^oods repeats thy note 
 
137 
 
 Pensive, at silent night, I love to roam. 
 
 Where elves and fairies tread the dewy green. 
 
 While the clear moon, beneath the azure dome. 
 Sheds a soft lustre o'er the sylvan scene. 
 
 And hear thee tell thy moving tale of vi^oe, 
 To the bright Empress of the Silver Bow. 
 
 I had now not to walk through woods, but 
 over ground that had been cleared by the in- 
 dustry of the husbandman. But I had scarce 
 proceeded half a mile when a party of horse- 
 men, and girls double-mounted, came ambling 
 over the plain ; and all seemed to ask, with one 
 voice, if the boat was at the ferry. I in- 
 formed them that I had crossed Santee River 
 in a canoe, which, I believed, was at the ferry, 
 but that, far from embarking their party, it 
 would not hold a third of them. 
 
 Then you came, said one of the men, 
 through Push-and-go Creek? 
 
 I replied in the affirmative. 
 
 The devil take Mac Gregor, cried he. 
 There are no snakes in South Carolina if I 
 am not up to him for this. I hope Orpheus 
 has not been able to find his way through the 
 woods! 
 
 I assured the gentleman, that, if by 
 Orpheus he meant a drunken negro, who 
 scraped upon the fiddle, — he had not only 
 reached the house, but put all the company 
 in motion. 
 
138 
 
 And is Jack Douglas there? said the horse- 
 man. He is a great, lengthy * fellow. 
 
 I answered in the affirmative. 
 
 And is he dancing, rejoined he, with a little 
 girl; a black-eyed girl, with rather lightish 
 hair, a pretty turn-up nose, and a dimple in 
 one of her cheeks? 
 
 Sir, said I, the dimple in the young lady's 
 cheek is particularly visible when she smiles. 
 
 'Tis she! 'Tis Barbara! exclaimed the fel- 
 low. Oh! all the devils! I'll not wait for 
 the boat; I'll swim my beast across the river. 
 
 The company endeavoured to dissuade this 
 Leander from his enterprize; but love was not 
 to be cheated of its right; and putting his 
 spurs into the horse's sides, he galloped to- 
 wards Santee. 
 
 And now, my friends, said I, having satis- 
 fied your interrogations, let me ask you if 
 there be any house on the road where I shall 
 be likely to obtain a lodging? 
 
 Are you for George-town? said one of the 
 men. 
 
 I replied in the affirmative. 
 
 Then, rejoined he, it is hard saying; for 
 there is no house in the main-road between 
 this and the Run/t and the Run is so high 
 
 * Lengthy is the American for long. It is frequently used 
 by the classical writers of the New World. 
 
 t A stream that crosses a road is called a Run in the south- 
 ern States. After a heavy rain, the freshes (floods) render 
 these Runs for some time impassable. [Nice distinction be- 
 
139 
 
 from the freshes, that you will not be able to 
 ford it. We did not cross the Run; we live 
 this side of it — away there (pointing with his 
 hand) , among the back- woods. 
 
 Old Billy, said another, would give the gen- 
 tleman a lodging. 
 
 Old Billy! replied his companion. Do you 
 think a white man would bemean himself to 
 take up his quarters with a negur? Come, let 
 us jog on. 
 
 Nothing can give more poignancy to the 
 misfortunes of a Traveller, than for him to 
 repine at them. I therefore walked forward 
 with a decisive step, and whistled a merry 
 tune as I brushed the dew with my feet. 
 
 In about half an hour, I reached a mud- 
 hut, which stood adjoining to a wood. A 
 little smoke arose from the chimney, but not 
 a mouse was stirring near the dwelling. But 
 from the woods was heard the cry of the 
 Whip-poor-will, and the croaking of the bull- 
 frogs. 
 
 I peeped through a chink in the wall of 
 this lonely hut. I soon discovered it was the 
 habitation of Old Billy and Billy's old wife. 
 I could distinguish an old negro-man and 
 negro-woman, huddled together, like Darby 
 
 tween ' stream crossing a road,' as against * road crossing a 
 stream.' Then, as now, the smaller stream was often called 
 ' branch.' ' Run ' is a term particularly of the Piedmont 
 country.] 
 
140 
 
 and Joan, before the embers of an expiring 
 fire, and passing from one to another the 
 stump of an old pipe. I tapped at the door. 
 Please God Almighty! said the old woman; 
 who knock at our door this time of night? 
 Why I thought nobody was awake but Whip- 
 poor-will ! 
 
 Open the door, said the old man, very 
 calmly. 'Tis mayhap some negur-man that 
 has run away, and is now come out of the 
 woods to beg a hoe-cake, or a bit of hominy. 
 
 Lack-a-day! you don't say so, replied the 
 old woman. Some poor runaway without a 
 bit of victuals to keep life and soul together. 
 Well! there's a whole hoe-cake in the platter. 
 That's lucky, for true! 
 
 The old woman came to the door, but, 
 starting back on beholding me, exclaimed, 
 Hie! this not negur! This one gentleman! 
 
 Let my page record the hospitality of this 
 poor black woman and her husband. They 
 proffered me their provisions, and helped me 
 to the sweetest draught of water I ever re- 
 member to have drunk. They proposed to 
 spread a blanket for me before the fire, and 
 supply me out of their garments with a pil- 
 low for my head. In a word, though their 
 faces were black, their hearts were not in- 
 sensible.* 
 
 [* In his book, The American Mariners &c. Salisbury, 1822, 
 the author gives his "Greek version of a negro song, (p. 236) — 
 
141 
 
 I could not overcome my prejudices. I 
 felt the fulness of their humanity, but, my 
 heart harboured that pride, which courted the 
 rigours of the night rather than descend to 
 become the guest of an African slave. I de- 
 clined their offer w^ith acknowledgments, and 
 prosecuted my walk into the woods. 
 
 I had walked about three miles, lighted 
 forward by the moon, and admonished of the 
 lateness of the hour by the appearance of the 
 Morning Star, when the barking of dogs, and 
 the voices of men at a distance, filled me with 
 the hope that I was approaching some village. 
 My heart caught new pleasure, and I re- 
 doubled my pace; but in a few minutes, in- 
 stead of entering a village, I found myself 
 among a croud of waggons and waggoners, 
 who, having their journey suspended by a run 
 of water which had overflowed its banks, were 
 preparing to encamp on the side of the road. 
 Of these some were backing their waggons, 
 some unharnessing their cattle, and some 
 kindling a fire. 
 
 On coming to the bank of the stream, I 
 asked a man who was splitting wood, whether 
 there was any canoe to carry Travellers across 
 the Run. 
 
 Indeed, I don't know, said he. 
 
 " The winds roared, and the rains fell 
 " The poor white man, faint and weary, 
 " Came and sat under our tree &c."] 
 
142 
 
 How is that? cried another waggoner, ap- 
 proaching the spot. If the stranger is willing 
 to go to the expence of a canoe, I'll hew him 
 one out of the stump of a tree in less than half 
 an hour. I have tools in my waggon. 
 
 Sir, replied I, I think it will be more ad- 
 viseable to tarry here till the floods are sub- 
 sided. But is there no tavern near here? 
 
 There is not a grog-shop, said the man, be- 
 tween this and George-town. But if you 
 chuse to drink some whiskey, I have got a 
 demi-john in my waggon. Come, don't make 
 yourself strange because I drive a waggon. 
 
 Sir, said I, it was my anxiety to obtain a 
 lodging that made me ask for a tavern ; I did 
 not want liquor. But as you are polite enough 
 to welcome me to your jorum of whiskey, I 
 shall be happy to pledge you. 
 
 The fellow now went to his waggon, and, 
 taking out a small demi-john of whiskey, re- 
 turned to the place where I stood, followed 
 by the whole of his fraternity. Come, said 
 he, here's a good market for our tobacco!* 
 And after taking a long draught, which called 
 a profound sigh from his lungs, he handed me 
 the demi-john, of which having drunk, I 
 passed it in succession to my neighbour. 
 
 [* Cf. La Rochefoucauld, Travels through the United States 
 of North America, London, 1799, Vol. I, p. 627: 'First six 
 months of 1796, amount of tobacco exports, port of Charles- 
 ton, 1,991 hogsheads.'] 
 
143 
 
 No man is more tenacious of etiquette than 
 I. For two persons to become acquainted, 
 the laws of good breeding exact the introduc- 
 tion of a third. This third personage I had 
 now found in the demi-john of whiskey, and 
 so without any further ceremony, I accom- 
 panied the gentlemen waggoners to their fire, 
 and squatted myself before the blaze. 
 
 The man whom I had pledged, I very soon 
 discovered to be the chief of the gang; for his 
 mien was more lofty, and his speech more im- 
 perious than that of the rest. Halloa! Ralph 
 Noggin! cried he, Turn the horses out loose 
 with their bells on, that we may find them 
 again in the woods. And do you hear. Get 
 the pig out of the hay waggon, that we may 
 barbacue him while there's a slow fire. 
 
 This motion of the waggoner was I thought 
 not a bad one; my hunger seconded it in 
 secret; and I began to entertain a higher 
 opinion of the company I had got into. 
 
 Having barbacued the pig, each man drew 
 forth his knife, and helped himself to a por- 
 tion. I was invited to do the same, but when 
 I had laid hands on a savoury morsel, it was 
 difficult to retain it, for a dog, that accom- 
 panied the waggons, placed himself before 
 me in a menacing attitude, and every time I 
 put a piece of meat into my mouth, the cur 
 gnashed his teeth, and rebuked me with an 
 angry bark. At length, I was relieved from 
 
144 
 
 the importunities of the dog, by the politeness 
 of a waggoner, who snatching up his whip, 
 cracked it over the dog's back with such vio- 
 lence, that the animal slunk his tail between 
 his hind legs, and ran howling into the woods 
 with a most tragical tone; a tone that sus- 
 pended for some minutes the bellowing of the 
 bull-frogs, and the cry of the Whip-poor- 
 will. 
 
 My companions having satisfied their hun- 
 ger, they soon fell asleep ; and it was not very 
 long before I followed the example. My bed 
 was composed of leaves, and I had no other 
 canopy but the skies; but, in two watchful 
 voyages to the East Indies, I had often snored 
 on the hard deck, and my repose in the open 
 air was a thing I had been used to. 
 
 About sun-rise I awoke, refreshed beyond 
 measure with three hours sound sleep. Some 
 of my companions were awake, but others 
 were yet snoring. At length, they all rose and 
 shook themselves, and the chief of the party 
 had expressed it to be his opinion, that the 
 Run would not go down before noon, when 
 a chariot came up to the spot, followed by 
 a horseman. 
 
 In the carriage were two elderly ladies, 
 who, it was easy to discover, were Quakers. 
 Of these one put her head out of the window, 
 and calling to the horseman, said, Obadiah, 
 " inquire, I beseech thee, of these honest peo- 
 
145 
 
 " pie, whether the Run be passable, or 
 whether we had not better go back to our 
 " plantation, and tarry there till to-morrow? " 
 
 The Quaker rode up to our fire, around 
 which we were all sitting, " Waggoners, said 
 " the Quaker, is the Run fordable yet for a 
 " horse? Do you think, friends, it would be 
 " safe for mother and aunt to venture across? 
 Is the water above the horses' knees? " 
 There is no danger, master, at all, said the 
 chief of the party. Two young women and 
 a negur-boy, crossed over an hour ago. The 
 water, then, did not come up to the horses' 
 knees, and now it is much lower. Friend, said 
 the Quaker, I thank thee. And he then rode 
 to the window of the carriage, where he im- 
 parted the intelligence to his mother and 
 aunt. 
 
 I verily, said the old lady, have an appre- 
 hension that some accident will befal us. 
 
 Why, mother, said the Quaker, thy fears 
 overcome thy reason. Two damsels and a 
 man-servant have crossed over this morning 
 already. 
 
 The postilion now whipped his cattle, and 
 plunged into the stream, accompanied by the 
 man on horseback. In a few minutes the 
 beasts were up to their necks in water, and 
 the women within the carriage were over- 
 whelmed with the torrent. The horse of the 
 man, who had gone higher up, was evidently 
 
146 
 
 obliged to swim for it; and now the woods 
 echoed with the cries of the women in dis- 
 tress, and the groans of Obadiah, who gave 
 himself up for lost. I cannot but acknowl- 
 edge that the cries of the women knocked 
 against my heart; I ran to the bank, and vocif- 
 erated to the postilion not to spare his horses, 
 but flog them over to the other side. The 
 fellow profited by my injunctions, and pres- 
 ently the carriage, together with Obadiah, got 
 in safety to the opposite bank; the women not 
 remitting their screams, Obadiah still pouring 
 forth his ejaculations, and the cattle shaking 
 their manes. 
 
 In this scene of consternation, I could not 
 be wholly inattentive to the waggoners. These 
 gentlemen had thrown themselves on their 
 backs, and were keeping up a peal of the loud- 
 est laughter I ever remember to have heard.* 
 
 About noon the water went down, and my 
 companions, who had previously harnessed 
 their cattle, crossed without any obstacle to 
 the opposite bank. I followed on a led-horse, 
 which they did not judge prudent to fasten to 
 a waggon, and which took me over in safety. 
 I then dismounted, and, having shaken each 
 of the party by the hand, pursued my journey 
 
 [* Castiglioni had a very similar adventure in 1786, recorded 
 in his book of Travels, (Viaggio &c. Milan. 1790), Vol. I, pp. 
 358-359- The ford is no less treacherous to-day, but the al- 
 ternative is not so imperative. Cf. also Dr. Thomas Coke's 
 Journals of Five Visits to America. London. 1793. pp. 26-28.] 
 
147 
 
 on foot. The sun, which in the early part of 
 the morning had been obscured, now glad- 
 dened the plains ; and, as I journeyed onward, 
 I sent forth in concert with the creation a 
 prayer to that Universal Lord, at whose altar 
 of praise and thanksgiving, all religions, 
 though by different paths assemble ; and ulti- 
 mately unite in one centre of adoration. 
 
 A walk of ten miles brought me within 
 sight of George-town, which exhibited an 
 agreeable coup d'oeil, as I approached the 
 back of Sampit river. The opening of Wac- 
 camaw bay, at the confluence of Sampit, 
 Black, and Pedee rivers, brought to my mind 
 the happy description which my friend Mr. 
 George had given the world of it; who is not 
 less exact than felicitous in the combination of 
 his images. 
 
 " Here as you enter from the winding wood, 
 " The wand'ring eye beholds the confluent flood, 
 " Where the wide waves of W accammv o'erflow, 
 " And gloomy wilds an endless prospect shew : 
 " Where roll the placid streams from Sampit' s source, 
 " And Winyaws waves with slow meanders course, 
 " Through many a tainted marsh and gloomy wood, 
 " The dark abodes of dreary solitude." 
 
 I felt no little exultation in reflecting that 
 it was the Author of this description, whom 
 I was about to visit; that he expected with 
 solicitude my coming, and that I should be 
 received by him with transports. I crossed 
 
148 
 
 the river Sampit in the ferry-boat, and re- 
 joiced to find myself in the company of my 
 friend. But I did not find him at his studies. 
 Mr. George was neither composing Moeonian 
 Verse, the plaintive Elegy, nor soothing Son- 
 net. In profane prose, he was at dinner, and 
 such was the unclassical condition of my appe- 
 tite from a walk of fourteen miles, that a wel- 
 come to turkey and chine was greater music 
 in my ear, than the softest verses my friend 
 could have produced from his invocations of 
 the morning. 
 
 It is only those whose breasts have been dis- 
 tended with friendship, that can form a just 
 estimate of the happiness I enjoyed in the com- 
 pany of Mr. George. In a public party he 
 was somewhat reserved; but in the unre- 
 strained interchange of his mind with a friend, 
 no man could be more pleasant. That the 
 conversation of Mr. George was not coveted 
 by the inhabitants of George-town, is not the 
 least extraordinary. Pride is the same in all ; 
 and there is none who would not rather be 
 amused than instructed. 
 
 There is a vivacity in the Irish character, 
 which an Englishman cannot but envy. It is 
 not indeed of a uniform tenour in either; both 
 have their moments of depression, and ex- 
 clamations of sorrow. But the Irishman sel- 
 dom flies to a rope, or a phial, for an oblivion 
 of his woes, and, taking it in his hand, cries, 
 
149 
 
 This shall end them! His soul is sanguine; 
 his grief evanescent; the clouds that darkened 
 the horizon of life, give way in succession to 
 sun-shine and a clear sky; his mind recovers its 
 elasticity, and finally it triumphs. 
 
 The old lady at the boarding-house, in- 
 formed me that she hardly knew what to make 
 of Mr. George; sometimes he would be soci- 
 able, and chat round the parlour fire with the 
 rest of her boarders; but that oftener he shut 
 himself in his chamber, and pored over an out- 
 landish book; or, wandering alone in the 
 woods, was overheard talking to himself. 
 Alas! for the simplicity of the woman! She 
 little knew the enjoyments of a cultivated 
 mind, or the delight a poet felt in courting 
 the silence of solitude, and muttering his way- 
 ward fancies as he roved through the fields. 
 
 It, however, appeared to me, that Mr. 
 George was not so enamoured of the Muses, 
 but that he had an eye for a fair creature, who 
 lived within a few doors of his lodgings. He 
 manifested, I thought, strong symptoms of 
 being in love. He delighted in the perusal 
 of the Sorrows of Werter, perfumed his hand- 
 kerchief with lavender, brushed his hat of a 
 morning, and went every Sunday to church. 
 
 Mr. George had a supreme contempt for 
 American genius and American literature. In 
 a sportive mood, he would ask me whether I 
 did not think that it was some physical cause in 
 
I50 
 
 the air, which denied existence to a poet on 
 American ground. No snake, said he, exists 
 in Ireland, and no poet can be found in 
 America.^ 
 
 You are too severe, said I, in your strictures. 
 This country, as a native author observes, can 
 furnish her quota of poets. 
 
 Name, will you, one? 
 
 Is not Dwight, 3. candidate for the epic 
 crown? Is he, Sir, not a poet? 
 
 I think not. He wants imagination, and he 
 also wants judgment; Sir, he makes the shield 
 of Joshua to mock the rising sun. 
 
 Is not Barlow a poet? Is not his Vision of 
 Columbus a fine poem? 
 
 The opening is elevated; the rest is read 
 without emotion. 
 
 What think you of Freneau? 
 
 Freneau has one good ode: Happy the Man 
 who safe on shore! But he is voluminous ; and 
 this ode may be likened to the grain in the 
 bushel of chaff. 
 
 [* Dr. Schoepf, a very discriminating traveller and a man of 
 high accomplishments, remarks, Vol. I, p. 128, — " Amerika hat 
 seine Genies, so gut wie die alte Welt; in seiner bisherigen 
 Lage und Verfassung aber, da Handel und Ackerbau ein leich- 
 teres und reichlicheres Auskommen gewahrten, blieben sie un- 
 erkannt und unentwickelt." Vol. II, p. 332, " Der nun eben 
 geendigte Krieg hat bereits verschiedene Manner von Wichtig- 
 keit, und von so entschiedenen Talenten, in Thatigkeit gese- 
 zet dass America gewissermassen auch von der Seite der Ge- 
 lehrsamkeit gewonnen hat." Vol. II, p. 336, " Genies sind in 
 Amerika so gut zu Hause, als in der alten Welt, und sie wer- 
 den mit der Zeit sich gegen jene messen."] 
 
What is your opinion of Trumbull? 
 
 He can only claim the merit of being a 
 skilful imitator. 
 
 Well, what think you of Humphreys? 
 
 Sir, his mind is neither ductile to senti- 
 ment, nor is his ear susceptible to harmony. 
 
 What opinion do you entertain of Honey- 
 wood? * 
 
 I have read some of his wretched rhymes. 
 The bees, as is fabled of Pindar, never sucked 
 honey from his lips. 
 
 Of the existence of an American poet, I per- 
 ceive. Sir, your mind is rather skeptical. But, 
 I hope, you will allow that America abounds 
 with good prose. 
 
 Yes, sir; but, then, mind me, it is imported 
 from the shores of Great Britain. 
 
 Oh! monstrous! Is not Dennie a good 
 prose-writer? 
 
 Sir, the pleasure that otherwise I should 
 find in Dennie, is soon accompanied with 
 satiety by his unexampled quaintness. 
 
 Of Brown, Sir, what is your opinion? 
 
 The style of Brown, Sir, is chastised, and he 
 is scrupulously pure. But nature has utterly 
 disqualified him for subjects of humour. 
 Whenever he endeavours to bring forth hu- 
 
 [* The poets by the classicist dismissed are —President 
 Dwight (1752-1817), Joel Barlow (1755-1812), Philip Freneau, 
 (1752-1832), Col. David Humphreys, (1753-1818), St. John 
 Honeywood (1764-1798) ; notices of whose work are to be 
 found in the first volume of Duyckinck's Cyclopaedia.'] 
 
152 
 
 mour, the offspring of his throes are weak- 
 ness and deformity. Whenever he attempts 
 humour, he inspires the benevolent with pity, 
 and fills the morose with indignation. 
 
 What think you of the style of Johnson, the 
 Reviewer? 
 
 It is not English that he writes, Sir; it is 
 American. His periods are accompanied by 
 a yell, that is scarcely less dismal than the war- 
 hoop of a Mohawk. 
 
 George-Town is built on the South bank of 
 Sampit river; the houses are handsome, and 
 the little streets intersect each other at right 
 angles. But so lovely are the women, that, 
 had this place existed in an age of antiquity, 
 it would not have been said that Venus fixed 
 her abode at Cytherea. 
 
 The academy at George-Town is under the 
 direction of Mr. Spierin, an Irish clergyman 
 of the episcopal persuasion; a man profoundly 
 versed in the languages of Greece and Rome, 
 not unconversant with the delicacies of the 
 English, and a powerful preacher. 
 
 I was delighted with Mr. Spierin s eldest 
 boy. This little fellow, always followed his 
 cousin (Mr. George) to his room, and took 
 more pleasure in hearing the bard repeat to 
 him his compositions than in listening to the 
 talk of the boarders, whose topic was either 
 horse-racing, cock-fighting, or gunning. 
 
 I make the same use of this boy, said Mr. 
 
153 
 
 George to me, that Moliere did of his old 
 house-keeper. His feelings are not perverted 
 by the subtilties of criticism; his mind so ten- 
 der, has acquired no fastidiousness from cul- 
 tivation ; and what charms the boy will charm 
 also the multitude. 
 
 I wish, cousin, said the boy, you would read 
 me that poem again about Papa and Doctor 
 
 , who went over to Waccamaw to a ball, 
 
 and, when they got there, found they could 
 not dance. 
 
 What, G eorge, said I, have you been sati- 
 rizing your uncle! the most learned of the 
 
 Professors! and has not Doctor escaped 
 
 your lash; the man who instituted and sup- 
 ports your academy! 
 
 Sir, said my friend, whatever may be their 
 attributes, they ruined our dance; nor could 
 the laughter they provoked atone for the time 
 they made us lose. 
 
 Do, cousin, said the boy, let me read the 
 poem to this gentleman. It is so funny! — My 
 friend put his manuscript into the boy's hand, 
 who read it aloud. 
 
 THE DANCING PHILOSOPHERS. 
 WHAT dire events from trivial causes rise, 
 Mirth to the gay, but satire to the wise. 
 I sing, two chiefs, who lately pass'd the floods. 
 To W accamaw's wide wastes and piney woods ; 
 Invited to partake the soft delight 
 Of festive dance, and hymeneal rite; 
 
154 
 
 The one a sage disciple of the gown, 
 
 The other much renown'd throughout the town, 
 
 For bolus, nostrum, Esculapian skill, 
 
 The rich to fleece, the lingering to kill. 
 
 These in a galley, with their sable train. 
 
 Press'd to the shore that bounds the distant main; 
 
 There in the Sylvan shades the youths around, 
 
 With laughter-loving nymphs in silk were found ; 
 
 The bridal beauty in the midst appear'd. 
 
 And next the bridegroom, but without a beard; 
 
 For not as yet for wisdom was he famed. 
 
 Nor had his chin his manhood yet proclaim'd. 
 
 Soon as the Priest had joined them hand in hand, 
 At signal giv'n arose the tuneful band ; 
 Musicians skill'd the tambourine to ring. 
 And fiddlers numberless to swell the string. 
 Then shine the train, in two collected rows. 
 The left a range of belles, the right of beaux ; 
 Of these the forms in figur'd muslin veil'd, 
 Of those the legs in silken hose conceal'd. 
 Now all at once two swift for sight they rise, 
 With nimble footsteps, and with glowing eyes; 
 So the round wheels in giddy circles roll, 
 And bear along the fix'd ^spectator's soul. 
 Seiz'd with the scene, the solemn Priest lays down 
 His band, his bible, and his sable gown; 
 For when Divinity to mirth's inclin'd, 
 No text intrusive enters in the mind. 
 The Doctor too, forgetful that his heels, 
 As lead were heavy, through the circle wheels; 
 This way and that he stumbles as he goes. 
 And oft results upon his neighbor's toes. 
 
 And now the merry violin resounds. 
 And now the DOCTOR, now the PARSON bounds. 
 
155 
 
 All gravity was lost; the solemn air, 
 
 The frowning eye-brow, the adjusted hair, ^ 
 
 No more so venerably met the view, 
 
 To damp the ardour of the dancing crew. 
 
 The PARSON now, revolving from his place, 
 As down the ring he ran his godly race. 
 His partner leaving in the midst to chance, 
 Casts off behind and leads alone the dance. 
 His Nymph with eager eye displays her hand. 
 To call his Reverence to his proper stand; 
 But not for hands or nods he car'd at all. 
 This way and that he whirls around the hall; 
 One calls aloud, one stops his rapid flight. 
 Both nymphs and youths contend to set him right; 
 " This way ! this way ! you turn ; lead out of sides, 
 " That lady's hand you take ! and next the bride's " ; 
 But while the merry violins resound. 
 The ready Parson ceases not to bound. 
 And now through right and left, across they go, ] 
 And now the Priest, as in a solemn show, v 
 Stands in the midst and knows not what to do. j 
 As when some brisly boar the swains surround, 
 To drive him through some gate, or sylvan ground, 
 In vain — the stubborn savage glaring stands, 
 Immoveable, and braves the rustic bands. 
 The PARSON thus, oft push'd, repulsive stood. 
 With leaden legs, and with a head of wood; 
 Till shame and wrath compell'd him to retire. 
 His visage glowing, and his eyes on fire. 
 
 The DOCTOR too no better fate obtain'd, 
 Soon as in dance his giant limbs he strained, 
 His step, subverted by an almond shell, 
 Upheav'd his central poise, and down he fell. 
 
iS6 
 
 Like some huge whale when dash'd against a rock, 
 
 So groan'd the Doctor! and so loud the shock, 
 
 Then bursts of universal laughter rise, 
 
 Shake the high dome, and fill the starry skies. 
 
 The nymph assists her partner from the ground. 
 
 Again the laughter and the -jest resound. 
 
 Scarce could the Chief, when rais'd amidst the throng, 
 
 Drag his slow length of ponderous limbs along; 
 
 Groaning he moves; supported by a staff, 
 
 Like Polypheme! — ^what Stoic would not laugh? 
 
 A crowd of slaves with solemn mien, draw near. 
 
 And slowly through the dome the body bear. 
 
 Then on a bed they softly lay the sage. 
 
 And strive the dorsal torrent to assuage; 
 
 Loud from his room, the man of mighty bone. 
 
 All dancing curs'd, and heav'd a piteous groan ; 
 
 And now, lest any say, this noble throng. 
 
 Have danc'd too heavily, or danc'd too long; 
 
 Here shall the Muse her mournful story close, 
 
 And let the DOCTOR and the PRIEST repose. 
 
 Mr. Spierin will forgive my insertion of 
 this poem. No person respects him more than 
 I; and nothing but real esteem for a man, 
 would induce me to make serious mention of 
 him in this volume. That Traveller has little 
 acquaintance with the policy of literature, and 
 estimates but lightly the power of his page, 
 who speaks indiscriminately of every individ- 
 ual with whom he has eaten a meal, or 
 caroused over a bowl. I have been feasted 
 and caressed by many of my friends, both 
 at New-York, and Philadelphia, and Balti- 
 more, and Washington; who, knowing that I 
 
157 
 
 contemplated to publish a narrative, did me 
 the honour to desire a niche in my work. But 
 of such characters what could I record? It 
 surely could give the reader no satisfaction 
 to be told, that, Mr. — -■ — , having imported a 
 turtle from Jamaica, guttled down for nearly 
 three hours the callipash and callipee; or that 
 
 the constant practice of Mr. , was to 
 
 smoke his pipe every day after dinner. The 
 epitaph-maker will do all that can be done 
 for such characters ; for it can only be recorded 
 of them that they were born, and that they 
 died. 
 
 During my visit at George-town, the mel- 
 ancholy tidings were brought of the death 
 of General Washington. The inhabitants of 
 the town were crouding to the ball-room, at 
 the moment the courier arrived with the dis- 
 patch. But the death of so great a man con- 
 verted their hilarity into sorrow; the eye of 
 many a female, which, but a moment before 
 had sparkled with pleasure, was now brimful 
 of tears; and they all cast off their garments 
 of gladness, and clothed themselves with sack- 
 cloth. 
 
 The following Sunday, the men, women, 
 and children, testified their veneration for the 
 Father of their Country, by walking in pro- 
 cession to the church, where Mr. Spierin de- 
 livered a funeral oration. Never was there a 
 discourse more moving. Tears flowed from 
 
IS8 
 
 every eye; and lamentations burst from every 
 
 lip. 
 
 Nor were the orators of America silent at 
 the death of their hero. They called all their 
 tropes and metaphors together; collected all 
 the soldiers and statesmen of history, and made 
 them cast their garlands at the feet of his 
 statue. 
 
 I look back both with pleasure and satis- 
 faction on the time I passed with my friend, 
 at the confluence of the rivers Waccamaw and 
 Winyaw. Our conversation was commonly 
 on the writers of the Augustan Age, and I cor- 
 rected many errors I had imbibed by solitary 
 study. The taste of Mr. George had been 
 formed on the polished models of antiquity; 
 to these he always recurred as to the standards 
 of elegant composition. It is recorded, I be- 
 lieve, of Euler, that he could repeat the whole 
 of the lEntid by heart; but the memory of 
 Mr. George had not only digested the Eneid, 
 but also the Georgics and Eclogues. 
 
 But the moment was approaching that 
 called me to another climate. I found a 
 schooner lying at the wharfs of George-Town, 
 that was bound to New-York, and thither I 
 had formed the resolution of going. To this 
 resolution I was particularly determined by 
 the projects of Mr. George; who, disgusted 
 with the society at George-town, — the eternal 
 discourse of the inhabitants about their 
 
159 
 
 negroes and cotton-fields; and the innova- 
 tions of the Trustees on his mode of tuition, 
 had come to the determination of seeking an- 
 other people, and opening a school of his own. 
 
 When I, therefore, waved my hand on 
 board the vessel to my friend, who stood on 
 the wharf with the calm inhabitants of Wac- 
 camaw, my heart was rather elated with joy 
 at the expectation of soon meeting him at 
 New York, than depressed with sorrowful 
 emotions to separate from him at George-town. 
 
 Heaven prosper you, my dear fellow, said 
 Mr. George. But your impending gales of 
 wind, and rolling of the vessel, will excite 
 little sympathy, because I shall reflect you 
 are again in your own element. Yet shall I 
 never cease exclaiming. Sic te diva potens 
 Cypri, &c., till you give me a missive that 
 acquaints me with your safe landing. Adieu ! 
 I will soon shake you by the hand again in 
 a region less unhealthy, less inhospitable, and 
 less unclassical. 
 
 The sails of the vessel were now distended 
 by a breeze that was both favourable and fresh. 
 We shaped our course out of the harbour; 
 the waves roared around the bark; and in half 
 an hour she appeared to the eye of the be- 
 holder from land a white speck only on the 
 ocean. 
 
 Our passengers were composed of a 
 Georgian saddle-maker, a Quaker, and three 
 
i6o 
 
 vagrants from New England.* Of these the 
 Georgian was an original character. His 
 very figure was the title-page of a joke, for 
 never before did I behold such a bed-presser, 
 such a horseback-breaker, such a huge hill of 
 flesh. He exulted in his bulk, and informed 
 us, that on first coming on board he weighed 
 two hundred and seventy-five pounds. 
 
 The wind changed ofif Cape Hatteras to the 
 North East, from which quarter it blew a 
 tremendous gale. We lay-to in a most miser- 
 able condition, wet, sick, and unable to cook 
 any food. I now sighed for Coosohatchie, 
 the company of my pupils, and my walks in 
 the woods ; but my ambition of travel struggled 
 over my weakness, and I sought refuge in 
 jollity with my portly companion. 
 
 What, Sir, said he, is your opinion of this 
 wind? It is only, answered I, a top-gallant- 
 breeze. Only a top-gallant-breeze! exclaimed 
 the Captain, it is enough to blow the devil's 
 horns ofif! — A few minutes after a sea struck 
 the vessel in the stern, and, staving in the dead 
 lights, nearly overwhelmed the sadler, who 
 was reposing in the aftermost berth ; but, how- 
 
 [* Cf. Schoepf, Reise &c. 1788, II, 196, — " Dass sie [New 
 Englanders] aber mit den Einwohnern von Nordkarolina einen, 
 wie es scheint, etwas starkern Verkehr treiben, mochte ausser 
 den fiir beyde Theile entspringenden Vortheilen und Bequem- 
 lichkeiten, auch noch diese besondere Veranlassung haben, dass 
 sehr viele Neuenglandische Emigranten sich in Nordkarolina 
 niedergelassen haben."] 
 
i6i 
 
 ever incommoded by his trunk of humours, 
 he carried himself most nimbly towards the 
 cabin-door; running and roaring, and roaring 
 and running, till he got upon deck. 
 
 The next morning the sun shone down the 
 sky light into the cabin. We were all in our 
 beds, and a silence had prevailed several hours, 
 when Mr. Waters, charmed with its rays, ex- 
 claimed, " Great luminary of the world! wel- 
 " come to my sight! No more shall I wonder 
 
 that thou art worshipped by the heathen." 
 
 The gale having abated, we prosecuted our 
 voyage, and on the morning of the 5th of 
 February, 1800, saw the high land of the 
 Jerseys. As the day advanced we could dis- 
 tinguish the light-house on Sandy-Hook, and 
 with a pleasant breeze were wafted to the 
 wharves of New-York. 
 
1 62 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Engagements at New-York. — An American Au- 
 thor. — Mr. George arrives at New-York. — 
 Epistolary Correspondence. — A Visit to Long 
 Island. — The Classical Elegance of the New- 
 York Reviewers exhibited. — Journey to the City 
 of Washington. 
 
 ]VIy first care on returning to New-York was 
 to deliver a letter I had been favoured with 
 from Mr. Spierin, to his friend Bishop Moore. 
 I waited on the Bishop most opportunely, for 
 the preceding day he had been applied to by 
 an opulent merchant to procure a Tutor for 
 his children, and I was a Tutor by trade. 
 
 The Bishop introduced me to Mr. Ludlow 
 and his lady, who received me with formality; 
 but whose conversation I thought interesting, 
 because they offered me a handsome salary 
 to educate their children. In the woods of 
 Carolina, I had received eighty guineas a 
 year; but Mr. Ludlow proposed a hundred. 
 
 I therefore exchanged my lodgings with 
 Major Howe for an elegant structure in 
 Broadway * and took possession of a chamber 
 that was worthy to lodge a Prince. 
 
 [*Cf. Barber and Howe's Historical Collections, p. 315 — 
 " The fashionable part of the city, or west end of the town, 
 was [1800] in Wall and Pine streets, between Broadway and 
 Pearl, Pearl from Hanover Square to John-Street, along 
 
i63 
 
 My pupils were few for the salary I en- 
 joyed. I had only three boys, Robert, Fer- 
 dinand, and Edward, (I delight to give their 
 names *) who possessed much suavity of man- 
 ners, and volubility of tongue. They learned 
 very well when disposed to learn their books; 
 for, as I was restricted to practice only blan- 
 dishments, their application was never im- 
 posed. 
 
 The author of Arthur Mervyn, living at 
 New-York, I sought acquaintance with a man 
 who had acquired so much intellectual re- 
 nown. I found Mr. Brown quite in the cos- 
 tume of an author,t embodying virtue in a 
 new novel, and making his pen fly before him. 
 
 Mr. Brown occupied a dismal room in a 
 dismal street. I asked him whether a view of 
 nature would not be more propitious to com- 
 position ; or whether he should not write with 
 more facility were his window to command 
 the prospect of the Lake of Geneva. — Sir, said 
 he, good pens, thick paper, and ink well di- 
 luted, would facilitate my composition more 
 
 State-Street and a part of Broadway, below Wall-Street." 
 Population, 1798, about 50,000. 
 
 The situation of the house identifies Mr. Ludlow — either 
 Thomas Ludlow or Daniel Ludlow. Cf. Wilson, Memorial 
 History of New York, Vol. Ill, p. 151. The most famous of 
 the various Ludlow houses at that time was the Carey Ludlow 
 house, State Street, facing the Battery, No. 9.] 
 
 [* Cf. Vicar of WakeHeld, ch. XL] 
 
 t By the costume of an author I imply a great coat and shoes 
 down at heel. 
 
164 
 
 than the prospect of the broadest expanse of 
 water, or mountains rising above the clouds.* 
 
 I pass over common occurrences to embrace 
 again Mr. George, who had left the Academy 
 at George-town, and, like a true poet, was 
 without a settled habitation. I procured him 
 lodging under the roof of Major Howe; and, 
 the better to enjoy a freedom from interrup- 
 tion, I took my friend to King's little tavern, 
 near the Presbyterian Church, — where we 
 drank, and smoked, and chatted, and laughed 
 till midnight. 
 
 I introduced Mr. George to Colonel Burr, 
 whom I had not neglected; and I also pre- 
 sented him to Bishop Moore, who had pro- 
 cured me a salary of a hundred guineas. I 
 have ever felt the highest veneration for the 
 dignified office of Prelate. There are many 
 different feelings. But as the English soldier 
 detested a Frenchman because he wore wooden 
 shoes; so many cannot endure a Bishop be- 
 cause he wears lawn to his sleeves. 
 
 * When I mentioned this reply of Mr. Brown to one of the 
 most distinguished literary characters now living. — Sir, said he, 
 this American Author cannot, I think, be a man of much 
 fancy. [Cf. Bernard, Retrospections of America, pp. 250- 
 252 — " One of the most agreeable acquaintances I formed 
 was with Charles Brockden Brown, the first, and for many 
 years the only, novelist America had produced. Few men 
 have united talent and worth in a larger proportion. ' Edgar 
 Huntly ' appears to me to be one of his most pleasing produc- 
 tions. ' Arthur Mervyn ' contains the most powerful descrip- 
 tions (the ravages of the Plague, etc.), but ' Wieland ' taken 
 on all points, must be considered his chef d'oeuvre."] 
 
1 6s 
 
 It was the custom of Mr. Ludlow every 
 summer to exchange the tumult of the city 
 for the quiet of his rural retreat; or, in other 
 words, to remove his family from New-York 
 to a place called West Chester. But knowing 
 that Mr. George was in some solicitude for 
 his future support, and being myself engaged 
 by Caritat, on liberal terms, to compile a vol- 
 ume of modern Poetry,* I presented my friend 
 to the family, extolled the multiplicity of his 
 attainments, and resigned to him my place. 
 In truth I was weary of setting boys their 
 copies, and I wanted some remission to my 
 fatigue. 
 
 Mr. George a few days after followed the 
 family into their retreat, which he has de- 
 scribed, together with the state of his own 
 feelings, in a familiar epistle. 
 
 " No prospect can be more enchanting than 
 " that from our mansion. Two tufted islands 
 " at a distance, leave a vista between them, 
 " through which gleam the turrets of New- 
 " York, rising like a new creation from the 
 " sea. But my time rolls heavily along. Let 
 
 * This volume of modern Poetry was to be a royal octavo, 
 of one thousand pages. It was to contain all the poems of all 
 the modern Poets. Caritat made a voyage to England with no 
 other purpose than to collect all their works. He bought up 
 all the modern poetry that London could furnish; and when 
 I say this, I need not observe that the ship which contained 
 his cargo drew a great depth of water. The pumps were kept 
 constantly going. 
 
i66 
 
 " casuists reason as they will ; a vigorous mind 
 " can derive no satisfaction from retirement. 
 " It is only on the great theatre of the world 
 
 that we can be sensible of the pleasures of 
 " existence. The solitary mind is its own 
 " sepulchre ; and where variety is unknown, 
 " or the passions are suppressed, the noblest 
 " energies are lost for want of pleasures to 
 " sooth, or ambition to excite them. I have 
 "one consolation; the delight of your corre- 
 " spondence ; which will alone sooth my mind 
 " to tranquillity in these regions of solitude. 
 " Really friendship includes something in its 
 "essence that is divine; and I begin to per- 
 " suade myself ours is not of that frail struc- 
 " ture whose fabric may be overthrown by 
 " the collision of interest, or the competition 
 " of vanity. 
 
 " I have again read over your epistles from 
 " Coosohatchie, and am now travelling with 
 " you through the swamps of Pocotaligo, and 
 " the woods of Asheepoo. There is certainly 
 " a pleasure in retracing our former footsteps, 
 " and pursuing our adventures through the 
 " wilds of Carolina. I can now behold you 
 " sitting with the driver in the front seat, 
 " and smoking your segar, while the soli- 
 " tary vehicle rolls slowly through the 
 " forests. 
 
 " I return to domestic occurrences. Yes- 
 " terday we had the breakfast table placed in 
 
167 
 
 " the piazza, and a number of ladies from 
 " New-York, formed a circle around it. None 
 " were remarkable for taste, but all for Tea- 
 table-talkativeness (a long word to spell), 
 and I overheard a fair damsel say to another, 
 that the Tutor was a keen young fellow. 
 " Had I been a Prince instead of a Tutor, I 
 would have told her, as Hamlet did Ophelia, 
 that it would have cost her a groaning to 
 take ofif my edge. 
 
 " Women know not what to be at. In the 
 evening they were contending who should 
 first take the telescope to look at the full 
 moon, which arose from the distant hills 
 "with unusual beauty. The telescope was 
 " brought, — and I shewed each lady in regular 
 succession, the Polar Hemisphere, together 
 ''with the constellations of Arcturus and 
 " Orion; repeating at the same time their de- 
 '' scription from the eighteenth Iliad. 
 
 " I went down to the Sound to swim awhile 
 " ago, and, during my stay in the water, some 
 " fellow threw in my shirt; so I came up like 
 one of Falstaff's men. This lamentable ac- 
 " cident brought the servants about me; and 
 " the gardener's wife made no scruple to lend 
 '' me one of her husband's shirts. 
 
 " I knew not when I entered on the office of 
 " Tutor in this family, that one paxt of my 
 " duty would be to teach my pupils to swim. 
 " Is not this a work of supererogation? How- 
 
1 68 
 
 " ever, I never fail to duck most fervently 
 
 these enemies to silence and reflection. 
 
 " Apropos of my pupils. This morning I 
 " w^as roused from slumber (for I sometimes 
 "teach school before breakfast in bed), by 
 
 the vociferation of the eldest boy, who, 
 " laughable to relate, construed raucce palum- 
 " bes* into roasted wood-pigeons. Risum 
 " teneas Amice? 
 
 "After dismissing these lads, I walked to 
 " the v^ater-side, and sat down under a spread- 
 " ing tree, not as Tityrus, to play on my pas- 
 " toral reed, but as a miserable Tutor; tired 
 " with the ennui of a solitary life, and en- 
 " deavouring to sooth a restless imagination 
 " by the objects of nature. 
 
 " You enjoy many advantages over me. I 
 " presume you have access to the libraries of 
 " Caritat, and of the city, and wander through 
 " the shelves of literature with poetica licentia. 
 
 " I fear this letter will be tedious; but only 
 " writing to you, dear fellow, can make my 
 " situation supportable. How shall I escape 
 " from this cursed obscurity? I have been 
 " here three days, of which every minute has 
 " been passed in brooding over my misfor- 
 " tunes! " 
 
 My readers will, perhaps, be ready to ex- 
 claim, as the inhabitants of the subterranean 
 abode did to Gil Bias, that Mr. George was 
 
 * Vide Virgil, Eclogue I. 
 
169 
 
 an inveterate enemy to the stillness of solitude ; 
 but it was ever the fate of genius to be im- 
 patient of restraint, and the carol of the birds, 
 the bloom of the meads, and the vernal soft- 
 ness of the breeze, lost all impression on a 
 vigorous mind reduced to dependance. 
 
 Some symptoms of the yellow fever appear- 
 ing in New-York, spread universal consterna- 
 tion; and the subscribers to the volume of 
 modern Poetry not coming in crouds with 
 their subscription-money, the compilation of 
 it was postponed. Being now without any 
 determined employment, I had nothing to de- 
 tain me in the town; and transporting my 
 books and baggage over to Long Island, I was 
 fortunate enough to procure lodgings at New- 
 town, under the roof of the Episcopal Min- 
 ister, Mr. Vandyke. He was a garrulous 
 valetudinary old creature, who would have 
 been excellent company for the Elders that 
 viewed the Grecian forces from the battle- 
 ments of Troy. 
 
 The parsonage-house was not unpleasantly 
 situated. The porch was shaded by a couple 
 of huge locust-trees, and accommodated with 
 a long bench. Here I often sat with my host, 
 who, like Parson Adams, always wore his 
 cassoc; but he did not read Eschylus. Alas! 
 the old gentleman was not descended from the 
 family of the Medici; nor would learning 
 have been ever indebted to him for its revival. 
 
Mr. Vandyke was at least sixty; yet if a 
 colt, a pig, or any other quadruped entered 
 his paddock, he sprang from his seat with 
 more than youthful agility, and vociferously 
 chased the intruder from his domain. I could 
 not but smile to behold the parson running 
 after a pig, and mingling his cries with those 
 of the animal! 
 
 It would be ungrateful were I not to 
 enumerate the friends I found on Long Island. 
 — Mr. Titus, who lived on a creek that com- 
 municated with the Sound, both feasted and 
 caressed me; he was a worthy old gentleman; 
 and at his house, as in the days before the 
 flood, they were eating and drinking, marry- 
 ing and giving in marriage. 
 
 Farmer Moore, brother to Bishop Moore, 
 of New-York,^ (I love to give their names, 
 and kindred), always entertained me with a 
 hearty welcome. Every one acknowledged 
 his daughter was charming : 
 
 A maiden never bold; 
 Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion 
 Blush'd at itself. 
 
 Indeed the manners of the whole family were 
 worthy of the Golden Age. 
 
 Mr. Remsen, who lived with more mag- 
 nificence on the river-side, opposite Flushing, 
 
 [* Benjamin Moore, 2nd Bishop of that Diocese, (1748-1816), 
 b. at Newtown.] 
 
171 
 
 gave me sumptuous dinners, and Madeira 
 after each repast. His lady was not without 
 elegance; but his two daughters were lovely. 
 
 Nor in enumerating the Belles of Newtown, 
 ought I omit Mrs. Dungan, and Miss Towns- 
 hend, who dressed with splendour, and moved 
 with grace. 
 
 From Mr. Remsen's dwelling, on the water- 
 side, the mansion of Mr. Ludlow could be 
 clearly distinguished, lifting its proud turrets 
 above the shore of West Chester. I had been 
 invited, both by the family and my friend to 
 visit the " new house ; " and having, on a 
 serene day, dined with Mr. Remsen, I was 
 paddled in a canoe from his landing place 
 to the opposite shore. 
 
 The little boys shouted with joy as the canoe 
 approached their wharf and, George, aban- 
 doning an epic poem that he was composing, 
 flew to my embrace. 
 
 I was ushered into the parlour. Every 
 thing breathed splendour. A Turkey carpet 
 covered the floor, and the richest sophas in- 
 vited repose. Negus was served in a golden 
 cup, by a servant clad in a magnificent livery; 
 and every fruit of the season was placed on 
 the sideboard. The room was soon filled by 
 the family, all eager to receive me, and do 
 the honours of the house. 
 
 I could not but be delighted with the joy 
 expressed by the children; they either clung 
 
172 
 
 round my knees, or ran to bring the letters 
 I had written them, that I might perceive 
 with what care they had preserved my epistles. 
 
 These boys had certainly made unusual 
 progress under the tuition of Mr. George; 
 for each could repeat with every justness of 
 quantity the first Eclogue of Virgil, and if I 
 might judge from their emotions, feel the 
 spirit of the Poet. — Et jam summa procul — 
 exclaimed one, pointing through the window 
 to some cottages smoking at a distance : 
 
 Et jam summa procul villarum culmina fumant, 
 Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umhree. 
 
 I found afterwards that these children had 
 read Virgil to some purpose; for each could 
 dilate on the enviable tranquillity of Tityrus, 
 the adversity of Melibceus, and the perils of 
 the pious hero. 
 
 After continuing three days with my friend, 
 he accompanied me from West Chester, in a 
 passage-boat to New-York. It is almost 
 superfluous to observe, that we passed through 
 Hell-Gate. 
 
 At New-York we experienced an oblivion 
 of care at King's little tavern, next to the 
 Presbyterian church ; * which, from the jollity 
 
 [* The old First Presbyterian Church was in Wall Street. 
 At this time the Brick Church (Presbyterian) was at Nassau 
 and Beekman; the Scotch Presbyterian Church was on Cedar 
 Street, near Broadway. Cf. Disosway's Earliest Churches of 
 New York.] 
 
173 
 
 that resounded in every room on a Sunday, 
 brought to recollection the proverb, that the 
 nearer to church, the further from heaven. 
 Here, however, we drank porter, smoked 
 segars, and forgot we were Tutors. 
 
 The following day, I prevailed on Mr. 
 George to visit Newtown, and I introduced 
 him to my friends. We dined with Mr. 
 Remsen, from whose house he departed for 
 West Chester in a canoe. I awaited in the 
 piazza the return of the canoe, chatting most 
 delectably with Miss Eliza Remsen, over a 
 cup of tea administered by her fair hands. 
 The canoe returned, and brought me a note 
 from my friend. 
 
 " I (thank God) found none of the family 
 " at home on my arrival ; so I can walk about 
 " the house without feeling my dependence." 
 
 Mr. George only remained with Mr. Lud- 
 low till his quarter expired, when it was con- 
 certed by every party, that I should resume 
 the place. But he was not long unemployed; 
 for the inhabitants of Newtown, being in want 
 of a teacher, converted a spare dwelling into 
 a school, and engaged my friend on liberal 
 terms to educate their children. 
 
 From the tenour of Mr. George's letters, 
 it required but little penetration to discover 
 that his situation was not agreeable. He was 
 one of those men who could not appease pride 
 by seeming submission; and who would not 
 
174 
 
 descend to live with a prince but on terms of 
 equality. The verse he most admired in his 
 own productions, was the image of his mind. 
 
 And scorn to bow before the sons of pride! 
 
 For my part, I thought differently on this 
 subject. I thought a few sacrifices might be 
 made for every elegance of accommodation, 
 and a hundred guineas a year; and I was 
 glad to resume the place, because my salary 
 was a good one. Nor could I perceive that 
 my friend had any real cause for complaint; 
 on the contrary, I was of opinion that he had 
 been disgusted without offence, and alienated 
 without enmity. 
 
 Mr. George was now on Long Island, and 
 I had received a very polite letter from Mrs. 
 Ludlow, who entreated me to hasten my re- 
 turn to her family. For my part, I obeyed 
 her orders with alacrity, for I was weary of 
 the cant and carping of Parson Vandyke, who 
 so overflowed with scripture, that he cud- 
 gelled his men-servants and maid-servants 
 with the Bible. 
 
 I therefore drove Mr. George in a chair 
 to the water-side, and at the house of Mr. 
 Berian, hired a canoe to cross the Sound. But 
 first, I smoked a segar with my friend in the 
 porch, and left him weeping and laughing; 
 weeping to lose his company, and laughing 
 at his absence; for, nescio quid meditans 
 
175 
 
 nugarum, he forgot I had not paid for the 
 chair, which he would unavoidably have to 
 do.* 
 
 [* ' Nulla mihi,' inquam 
 ' Religiost. Hor: Sat., I, 9; v. 2, v. 70.] 
 
 After an hour's rowing, the boatmen 
 reached West Chester, and landed me at Mr. 
 Ludlow's. Of the family the children were 
 only at home, who received me with every 
 demonstration of joy; but not long after Mrs. 
 Ludlow returned in her chariot, whose elegant 
 and conciliating manners soon reconciled me 
 to my situation. 
 
 I sent my friend his trunks by the return 
 of the canoe, and a short note produced from 
 the impulse of the moment. In a few days 
 I was favoured with an epistle from Mr. 
 George. 
 
 " After your departure from Berian's in 
 " the canoe, I resumed my station with the 
 
 old fellow on the porch ; here I awaited with 
 " impatience the return of the boat with my 
 
 trunk. Berian I found to be a plain, honest, 
 " sensible, old navigator, and I drank tea with 
 " him. 
 
 " At night-fall the boat returned with my 
 " trunk and a letter from my beloved com- 
 " panion in adversity; it is only by the absence 
 " of persons who are dear to us, that we can 
 " estimate truly their value; and I now began 
 
 sensibly to feel the privation of your com- 
 
176 
 
 " pany. I left Berians at seven ; the night 
 "was very dark, and the moon (though con- 
 " siderably above the horizon) was entirely 
 " obscured by clouds. I was in no small 
 " danger of breaking my neck over the rocks 
 " which obstructed my passage, but my horse 
 " not being of a disposition to run away with 
 " his burden, I escaped the danger of an over- 
 " throw. After opening and shutting several 
 " gates that impeded my journey, and passing 
 " over many rocky hills, I descended to the 
 " shore, of which the waves were covered by 
 " a thick mist, that obscured their agitation, 
 "and rendered their fury more awful; the 
 " tide had usurped much of the road, and the 
 " left wheel of the chair rolled through the 
 " water. Hence, after travelling along the 
 " beached verge of the salt flood, I ascended 
 " a high hill, and turning into a different road 
 " from that through which you were my com- 
 " panion, I drove into a thick spreading wood 
 " of oak: here I was fearful of entirely losing 
 " my way through the trees ; but the clouds 
 " dispersed, and the moon arose to light me 
 " on my journey. At nine I reached the par- 
 " son's, where I found the family peaceably 
 " occupied with their needles ; they received 
 " me with kindness, but the rustic silence 
 " which prevailed among them, and the 
 " tedious reverberations of the clock, com- 
 " pelled me to retire to my room, where I 
 
177 
 
 " indulged myself in uninterrupted reflection, 
 " and in pondering over your curious epistle." 
 
 During my abode at West Chester, I wrote 
 a little Novel entitled, The Farmer of New 
 Jersey; the publication of which inflamed the 
 wrath of the Mohawk Reviewers. In my 
 preface I had disdained to deprecate the 
 severity of their censure, and they besieged 
 me from their attic stories with the javelins 
 of criticism. What these fathers of American. 
 criticism chiefly objected to, was the style of 
 the book, in which I had been purposely un- 
 ambitious of ornament. That they could spy 
 a mote in the eye of their neighbour, and not 
 perceive the beam in their own, the following 
 passage from the Mohawk Review will, I am 
 of opinion, evince. " The slightest acquaint- 
 ance with the history of literature is sufficient 
 to convince the most ardent admirer of sim- 
 plicity and of unadorned truth of the necessity 
 of a good style, and of the advantages of an 
 occasional use of its highest ornarnents." * 
 
 Americans! rejoice! the Augustan age of 
 your country cannot surely be remote, when 
 you possess such Reviewers! 
 
 I turn from the unpleasing sounds of the 
 
 * New-York Review, Vol. I, page i6. 
 
 [This may have been a very short-Hved monthly magazine. 
 There was no such periodical, and no monthly magazine, in 
 New York in 1805. See, citation of Longworth's Directory 
 for that year, in Old New York, Vol. I, No. 3, p. 159. The 
 title New York Review was revived in 1825.] 
 
178 
 
 warhoop of these Mohawks, to the mild strain 
 of friendship exhibited in the graceful negli- 
 gence of the epistles of Mr. George. The 
 following letter will not be without its use. 
 It will exemplify, that tranquillity depends 
 not in change of place, but must have its source 
 in the mind; and that a man, by crossing in 
 a boat from one shore to another, cannot leave 
 his cares and vexations behind him. 
 
 " In this out-of-the-world village, I live 
 "neither pleasing, nor pleased; for a rustic 
 " cannot receive much gratification from the 
 " society of a man of letters ; and surely the 
 " man of letters cannot derive any pleasure 
 " from the company of a rustic. It is only 
 " by a collision of minds of the same tendency, 
 " that inquietude can be soothed and the in- 
 " tellect invigorated. 
 
 " My condition, is, however, more tolerable 
 " than it was. Here I have no mincing, im- 
 
 peratrix to say to me, " Mr. George, my 
 " children do nothing, I must insist. Sir, you 
 " will be more attentive to Bobby and Neddy." 
 "Deo Gratias! O thou eater of broken 
 "meats! Thou lilly-livered, super-servicea- 
 " ble rogue of a Tutor! Avaunt! 
 
 " I was lately at New-York. But I went 
 " not to pay my respects to Members of Con- 
 " gress, but with the hope of encountering the 
 " friend of my heart, and the companion of 
 " my adversity. 
 
179 
 
 " I slept at Howe's, and during the night 
 was perpetually annoyed with the cry of 
 "fire! fire! As the noise increased, I arose 
 " with not less trepidation than Eneas, when 
 " he ascended to the top of old Anchises' 
 " palace : 
 
 " Et jam proximus ardet 
 " Ucalegon." 
 
 " But here, as in all modern conflagrations, 
 " (whether real or poetic), there was more 
 " smoke than fire, and more consternation 
 "than danger; so I sunk again to slumber, 
 " from which not even the ghost of Hector 
 " could have awakened me. 
 
 " Shall you exchange soon the dull walks 
 " of West Chester, for the animated streets 
 " of New York? Come over, I beseech you, 
 " and enable me once more to exclaim with 
 " rapture Vixi! " 
 
 With the first frost the family of Mr. Lud- 
 low removed from the solitude of West Ches- 
 ter, to the gaieties of New York; and I again 
 took possession of a room boasting every con- 
 venience of accommodation, where I could 
 prosecute, without disturbance, my lucubra- 
 tions till a late hour. The library of Caritat 
 supplied me with every book in the French 
 and my own idiom ; and before a cheerful fire, 
 I could pass nights of rapture in the acquisi- 
 tion of elegant and useful knowledge. The 
 
i8o 
 
 emoluments I had derived from the publica- 
 tion of my little Novel, induced me to under- 
 take another, which I was resolved to make 
 more voluminous; for Americans expect 
 quantity in a book not less eagerly than in 
 other merchandise, and the maxim of the 
 old Greek is not yet established in the New 
 World* 
 
 After revolving many schemes, I was de- 
 termined to continue my former narrative, by 
 writing the adventures of its principal char- 
 acter; for, in the Farmer of New Jersey, they 
 are only partially related, and William (the 
 hero of the tale), I discovered to be a favour- 
 ite among the ladies. 
 
 Having finished my tale, my next care was 
 to find a publisher; for which purpose I ad- 
 dressed a letter to the Editor of the Port Folio. 
 In a few days the letter-bag was distended 
 with petitions from the Philadelphia book- 
 sellers, who lavished every allurement of elo- 
 quence on the convenience of their presses, 
 and the skill of their workmen; but none 
 offered to buy the manuscript, and it was never 
 my intention to give it away. However, my 
 prospects were soon after brightened by a 
 letter in a different strain from a copyright- 
 purchasing patron, of the name of Dickins; to 
 whom I dispatched my manuscript, together 
 
 * Meya Bc^?ilov, [leya KaKov. 
 
i8i 
 
 with a letter written in a state of mind that 
 generated the EHEA nTEPOENTA* 
 
 About this period the attention of the public 
 was turned towards the City of Washington, 
 where the Members of both Houses of Con- 
 gress had assembled to decide on the nomina- 
 tion of a President for the United States. 
 
 In the year 1789, General Washington was 
 chosen President over the new system of con- 
 federated Government, and in the year 1793, 
 when the term of his Presidentship had ex- 
 pired, he was reelected in the office. He 
 therefore continued four years more invested 
 with the executive power of the Government; 
 but at the second termination of the time stip- 
 ulated by the Constitution for a new election 
 to be made, desirous of retiring from public 
 business, he resigned his important office. 
 This was in 1797, when Mr. Adams was 
 
 [*The MS so dispatched was that of The Wanderings of 
 William. Philadelphia, 1801. The purchaser of the copy- 
 right was doubtless Asbury Dickins who was associated with 
 Joseph Dennie in founding the Port Folio at Philadelphia, 
 and later was secretary of the United States Senate, from 1836 
 to 1861. 
 
 Duyckinck, (Vol. I, p. 563), remarks on this transaction: "A 
 very clever resident English author in the country, John Davis, 
 writer of a lively book of travels in the United States, which he 
 dedicated to Jefferson, offered by an advertisement, in 1801, two 
 novels, fruits of his winter labors, to any bookseller in the 
 country who would publish them — on the condition of receiving 
 fifty copies. The booksellers of New York, where he lived, 
 could not, he said, undertake them, for they were dead of the 
 fever."] 
 
l82 
 
 elected into the Presidentship, and Mr. Jeffer- 
 son was chosen Vice-President. For three 
 years the party of Mr. Adams lost none of 
 its influence ; but in the fourth the contending 
 party acquired a visible ascendancy, and it 
 was the predominant opinion, that Mr. Jeffer- 
 son would be chosen President in the next 
 election. The event justified the expectation ; 
 Mr. Jefferson obtained the suffrages of the 
 majority; he was elected into the office of first 
 Magistrate of the nation, and Mr. Adams, 
 who still had kept at Washington, and still 
 indulged in hope, till the very moment that 
 fixed his doom, now felt himself become again 
 a private citizen, and departed the same night, 
 in the stage-coach, for his paternal abode. It 
 was by ballot that Mr. Jefferson's right to the 
 office was decided; for in the nomination of 
 the different States, Mr. Burr had an equal 
 number of votes; but a ballot assigned the 
 office to Mr. Jefferson, and it consequently 
 followed that Mr. Burr became Vice-Presi- 
 dent. 
 
 The election of a new President of the 
 United States could not but engage the feel- 
 ings of the public. It raised the expectations 
 of some, and damped the hopes of others; or, 
 more properly speaking, all regarded the 
 event as it related to their interest. 
 
 The City of Washington was now the centre 
 of attraction to the nation. Multitudes flocked 
 
1 83 
 
 to it, in different directions, to hear the in- 
 augural speech of Mr. Jejferson. 
 
 Of this general enthusiasm I was not with- 
 out my share. Mr. Jefferson's notes on Fir- 
 ginia was the book that first taught me to 
 think; and my heart now beat with the desire 
 to hear the accents of wisdom fall from the 
 tongue of that man, whose pen had engrafted 
 much truth on my mind. I therefore de- 
 parted for the city of Washington, passing 
 through, in my way to it, Philadelphia and 
 Baltimore. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Emotions on entering the City of Washington. 
 The Plan of the Place. The inaugural Speech 
 of Mr. Jefferson to both Houses of Congress 
 assembled at the Capitol. 
 
 " In this City may that piety and virtue, that wisdom and 
 " magnanimity, that constancy and self-government, which 
 " adorned the great character whose name it bears, be for 
 " ever held in veneration ! Here, and throughout America, 
 " may simple manners, pure morals, and true religion, 
 " flourish for ever ! " 
 
 The mind of the Traveller must be ab- 
 stracted from all local emotion, who can enter 
 unmoved the city at the confluence of the 
 Potomac, and Eastern Branch. He witnesses 
 the triumph of freedom over oppression, and 
 religious tolerance over superstition. It is 
 
1 84 
 
 the capital of the United States that fills his 
 imagination! It is the country of Jefferson 
 and Burr that he beholds! It is the rising 
 mistress of the world that he contemplates! 
 
 The tract chosen for the City of Washington 
 is situated at the junction of the Potomac 
 river, and Eastern Branch; extending about 
 four miles along their respective shores. This 
 territory, which is called Columbia, lies partly 
 in the State of Virginia, and partly in the 
 State of Maryland; and was ceded, as every 
 body knows, by those two States, to the United 
 States of America; by which it was established 
 the seat of Government, after the year of 1800. 
 
 The City of Washington is to be divided 
 into squares, or grand divisions, by streets 
 running due North and South, and East and 
 West, which form the ground-work of the 
 plan. But from the Capitol, the President's 
 house, and some of the important areas, are 
 to be diagonal streets, which will prevent the 
 monotony that characterises Philadelphia. 
 
 We here perceive the superiority of taste 
 in a travelled Frenchman, over a homebred 
 Englishman, Penn was the founder of Phil- 
 adelphia; the plan of Washington was formed 
 by Major L' Enfant. 
 
 The great leading streets are to be one 
 hundred and sixty feet wide, including a pave- 
 ment of ten feet, and a gravel walk of thirty 
 feet, planted with trees on each side; which 
 
1 85 
 
 will leave eighty feet of paved street for 
 carriages : the rest of the streets will, in gen- 
 eral, be one hundred and ten feet wide, with 
 a few only ninety feet, except North, South, 
 and East Capitol streets, which are to be one 
 hundred and sixty feet in breadth. The diag- 
 onal streets are to be named after the respec- 
 tive States composing the Union ; while those 
 which run North and South, are, from the 
 Capitol eastward, to be called, East first street, 
 East second street, &c., and those West of it, 
 are, in the same manner, to be named West 
 first street, West second street, &c. 
 
 The streets running East and West are, from 
 the Capitol northward, to be called, North A 
 street. North B street, &c., and those South 
 of it are to be named, South A street. South B 
 street, &c. There is not much taste, I think, 
 displayed in thus naming the streets ; Generals 
 and Statesmen might have lent their names, 
 and helped in their graves to keep patriotism 
 alive. — A wag would infer that the North and 
 South streets received their names from a 
 pilot, and the East and West ones from an 
 Alphabetical teacher. 
 
 The squares, or divisions of the city, will 
 amount to eleven hundred and fifty. The rec- 
 tangular squares, will, generally, contain from 
 three to six acres, and be divided into lots 
 of from forty to eighty feet in front, and 
 from forty to three hundred feet in depth, 
 
1 86 
 
 according to the size of the squares. The 
 irregular divisions produced by the diagonal 
 streets are partly small, but commonly in val- 
 uable situations: their acute points are with- 
 out distinction to be cut ofif at forty feet, in- 
 asmuch that no house in the city will have 
 an acute corner: all the houses will be of stone 
 or brick. 
 
 In a southern direction from the President's 
 house, and a western one from the Capitol 
 are to run two great pleasure parks, or malls, 
 which will intersect and terminate upon the 
 banks of the Potomac; and they are to be 
 ornamented at the sides by a variety of elegant 
 buildings, and houses for foreign Ministers. 
 
 Interspersed through the city, where the 
 principal streets cross each other, is to be a 
 number of open areas formed of various fig- 
 ures: fifteen of these areas are to be appro- 
 priated to the different States composing the 
 Union; and, while they bear their respective 
 names be consecrated to the erecting of statues, 
 obelisks, or columns, to the memory of their 
 departed Heroes, Statesmen, and Poets. Upon 
 a small eminence, where a line drawn due 
 West from the Capitol, and another due South 
 from the President's house, would intersect, 
 is to be placed an Equestrian Statue of Gen- 
 eral Washington. 
 
 The Navy-yard and Marine-barracks are 
 partly constructed. The Navy-yard is formed 
 
1 87 
 
 by the projection of a wharf into the Eastern 
 Branch, from which a dock will be produced 
 of great capaciousness; and the Marine-bar- 
 racks are designed to form a mass of brick 
 buildings two stories high. 
 
 A road is making from the Capitol to 
 Georgetown, and another on the New Jersey 
 avenue, between the Capitol and Eastern 
 Branch: in effecting the last object, the de- 
 clivity of the abrupt hill to the South of the 
 Capitol has been effectually removed. 
 
 Of the public edifices, the Capitol and 
 President's house are the most magnificent. 
 They are built of freestone (resembling the 
 white and red Portland) ^ which is dug from 
 inexhaustible quarries on the banks of the 
 Potomac. To the builder of the President's 
 house might be applied the epitaph of Van- 
 brugh. 
 
 Lie heavy on him, Earth; — for he 
 Has laid a heavy load on thee! 
 
 The Treasury and War-office are con- 
 structed with brick. Some have objected, 
 that the public offices are so remote from each 
 other, as to obstruct the business of State. A 
 shallow, gothic remark! The symmetry of 
 the city would have been destroyed, had these 
 buildings been more contiguous. 
 
 The Capitol is admirably situated on an 
 ascent called Capitol Hill. The name of 
 
i88 
 
 Capitol associates the noblest ideas in the 
 mind. It has a Roman sound! In our en- 
 thusiasm we behold Virtue and Freedom, 
 which alas! have been so long extinct, again 
 descending from heaven, and fixing their 
 abode in the western world.* 
 
 Between the Capitol and the President's 
 house, there has been dug a well, which sud- 
 denly overflowed, continues to overflow, and 
 will probably for ever overflow. The pro- 
 prietor of the well informed me, that having 
 dug it about eleven feet deep, and five and a 
 half in diameter, the water rose with impetu- 
 osity, and increased the diameter to ten feet. 
 He afterwards sounded with a plummet, and 
 found it had sunk another foot. It had con- 
 tinued to overflow without remission, and runs 
 into the woods across the road before the 
 house. — This wonder-working well brought 
 the idle in crouds to behold it; and though 
 it had been scarcely dug a month, the man 
 who shewed it to the gazing multitude, made 
 
 [* Descriptions of Washington before the year 1801 are to be 
 found in: (i) Wansey, Journal of an Excursion to the 
 United States of North America. Salisbury, 1796, pp. 219- 
 226. (2) Twining, Travels in India a hundred years ago, 
 with a visit (1795) to the United States. London, 1903, pp. 
 403-407. (3) Weld, Travels &c. 1795, 1796, and 1797. 3rd Ed. 
 London, 1800, Vol. I, pp. 72-89. (4) Baily, Journal of a Tour 
 in Unsettled Parts of North America in 1796 and 1797. Lon- 
 don, 1856, pp. 124-129. (5) Duke of La Rochefoucauld-Lian- 
 court. Travels &c. in the years 1795, 1796, and 1797. London, 
 1799. Vol. II, pp. 311-336. (6) Parkinson, Tour in America, 
 &c. London, 1805, Vol. I, p. 58 ff.] 
 
1 89 
 
 no scruple to affirm, that it was not only the 
 astonishment of America, but also of Europe! 
 
 Of the noble river Potomac^ on whose banks, 
 and those of its Branch, the proud structures 
 of Washington are to lift their heads, it may 
 not be unimp roving to give some account. 
 
 The Potomac rises in the Allegany moun- 
 tains, and after a serpentine, but majestic 
 course of four hundred miles, it falls into the 
 Bay of Chesapeak, which is beyond all rivalry, 
 or competition, the largest bay in the known 
 world. At its junction with the bay it is full 
 seven miles in breadth; which gradually de- 
 creasing, it is found to be a mile broad at Alex- 
 andria and Washington. The navigation of 
 the Potomac, from its junction with the Chesa- 
 peak, to the city of Washington, is incontro- 
 vertibly tedious. It is nearly a hundred and 
 fifty miles ; and in a severe winter, the river, 
 in the vicinity of Washington and Alexandria, 
 being entirely frozen, an insurmountable bar- 
 rier is opposed to the skill of the mariner. But 
 the Eastern Branch, it must be confessed, is a 
 commodious harbour for shipping; it is deep, 
 and not being subject to freshes, the ice is with- 
 out any mischievous efifect. 
 
 The Eastern Branch of the Potomac is a 
 tributary stream to it ; and nature by their con- 
 fluence invites the building of a city. The 
 Eastern Branch, at its junction with the Poto- 
 mac, vies with it in breadth; but in tracing it 
 
190 
 
 to its source, this mighty mouth diminishes; 
 and, 2itBladensburgh, to cross its rustic bridge, 
 the wheels of a carriage have not many revolu- 
 tions to undergo. The Eastern Branch ex- 
 tends about thirty miles from its discharge to 
 its source. 
 
 It has been asserted by a late Traveller,* 
 that the Tiber, which supplies the city of 
 Washington with water, received that name 
 either from the Indians, or the first locaters 
 of the land; and hence is prophesied the mag- 
 nificence of the city, which at some future day 
 is to be a second i?om^. 
 
 Of the erroneousness of this observation, ac- 
 cident one day convinced me. Having break- 
 fasted at George-town, (it was 2it Mac Glaugh- 
 flin's hotel), with a lively young Frenchman, 
 I proposed a walk to the Capitol. In our 
 progress though the houseless streets of the 
 Imperial city, the excessive heat of the sun 
 provoked thirst, and to allay it we retired into 
 the woods, and seated ourselves by the Tiber. 
 The Capitol was within view. Voila, said my 
 companion, pointing to the edifice — Voila un 
 Capitol sans Ciceron; et void (turning his 
 finger towards the stream) void le Tibre sans 
 Rome.-f) 
 
 Are you sure. Monsieur, said I, that you call 
 
 [♦Isaac Weld, Vol. I, p. 83.] 
 
 t Behold a Capitol without a Cicero; and a Tiber without a 
 Rome. 
 
191 
 
 this stream by its right name? Is there not 
 some other for it? 
 
 My companion shrugged his shoulders, and 
 said he could not tell. 
 
 At this juncture a groupe of negro boys and 
 girls came to the stream, and filled their pitch- 
 ers and pails. 
 
 I addressed them severally. 
 
 How you call this little river, my fine 
 fellow? 
 
 You stranger, Mossa? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 Goose-Creek, Mossa. 
 
 Where's the Tiber, my good boy? 
 
 Where de Tiber, Mossa ask. Me never hear 
 of the Tiber; me never see such a ting.* 
 
 After this let us hear no more far-fetched 
 stories about the Tiber; but be content with 
 the simple truth, that the first settlers of the 
 contiguous lands conferred on it the name of 
 Goose-Creek.'\ 
 
 * Of this I have the further testimony of Mr. Ellicott, who 
 helped to project the city. [It was not Andrew Ellicott in 
 whose family the author was Tutor.] 
 
 [t Moore, in his ' Lines to Thomas Hume, M.D., from the 
 City of Washington,' makes use of this Tiber Creek. In his 
 footnote he cites Weld, but is plainly inspired of Davis, since 
 Weld does not mention Goose Creek. The lines are, 
 " In fancy now, beneath the twilight gloom, 
 Come, let me lead thee o'er this ' second Rome ' 
 Where tribunes rule, where dusky Davi bow. 
 And what was Goose Creek once is Tiber now." 
 Thomas Moore, Riverside Ed., Houghton, Miffln & Co., 
 Vol. II, p. 83. 
 
192 
 
 Of Goose-Creek, (or, more magnificently^ 
 the Tiber), the water is excellent; and it is in 
 contemplation to collect it in a grand reser- 
 voir, near the Capitol, and supply the houses 
 with it by the means of pipes ; while the super- 
 fluous water will form a variety of fanciful 
 cascades, delighting the eye and refreshing the 
 air. 
 
 It appears to me, that the President's salary 
 is not adequate to his house. The one is very 
 circumscribed; the other of vast dimensions. 
 It is a shallow policy in a government which 
 makes money the chief good. 
 
 The salary allowed the President is only 
 twenty- five thousand dollars a-year; that is, 
 about £5,300 sterling; a sum that may enable 
 him to ask a friend to dine with him pic nic, 
 but will not qualify him to impress a foreign 
 Ambassador with much veneration for the first 
 executive office of America. 
 
 It may be advanced, that it is not expected 
 from a Republican Magistrate to regale his 
 guests out of a gold cup. But for the manners 
 of a Republican Chief to be absolutely char- 
 acteristical, he ought, like Fabricius, to pare 
 his own turnips, and boil them himself. 
 
 To Franklin must we look for the source of 
 this sordid ceconomy. It was he who, by diffus- 
 ing the maxims of poor Richard, made the 
 
 Cf. Warden, Chorographical and Statistical Description of 
 the District of Columbia. Paris, 1816, p. 32.] 
 
193 
 
 government of the United States a miserly 
 body-politic; tenacious of a farthing, or, in 
 popular language, a nation penny wise, and 
 pound foolish. Franklin, when a child, de- 
 lighted to hawk ballads for a halfpenny; and 
 when he became a man, to save the expence of 
 an errand-boy, he trundled his wheelbarrow 
 through the streets. 
 
 Notwithstanding the vaunted philosophy of 
 Franklin, and his discoveries in electricity, he 
 is certainly at best but an ambiguous character. 
 His dereliction of religion has already done 
 more injury to the rising generation in Amer- 
 ica, than his maxims will do good. Where 
 Franklin has made one man frugal, he has con- 
 verted a hundred men to Deism. I heard the 
 infidel Palmer at New-York, enjoin his hear- 
 ers no longer to suffer passively the flagrant 
 impositions of the Scripture, but catch a por- 
 tion of the spirit of a Franklin, and avow 
 themselves disciples of Natural Religion. 
 And, I doubt not, but this argument of this 
 preacher succeeded; for where a man has one 
 vice of his own, he gets twenty by adoption. 
 
 Let me now come to the object of my jour- 
 ney to W ashington. The politeness of a mem- 
 ber from Virginia, procured me a convenient 
 seat in the Capitol; and an hour after, Mr. 
 Jeife rson entered the House, when the august 
 assembly of American Senators rose to receive 
 him. He came, however, to the House with- 
 
194 
 
 put ostentation. His dress was of plain cloth, 
 and he rode on horseback to the Capitol with- 
 out a single guard, or even servant in his train, 
 dismounted without assistance, and hitched the 
 bridle of his horse to the palisades.* 
 
 Never did the Capitol wear a more ani- 
 mated appearance than on the fourth day of 
 March, 1801. The Senate-Chamber was filled 
 with citizens from the remotest places of the 
 Union. The planter, the farmer, the me- 
 chanic and merchant, all seemed to catch one 
 common transport of enthusiasm, and wel- 
 come the approach of the Man to the chair 
 of Sovereign Authority, who had before 
 served his country in various offices of dignity; 
 who had sat in the famous Congress that pro- 
 duced the Revolution, acted as Governor to 
 his native State, and been Minister Pleni- 
 potentiary to a foreign nation. 
 
 Mr. Jefferson, having taken the oaths to the 
 Constitution, with a dignified mien, addressed 
 the august assembly of Senators and Repre- 
 sentatives. 
 
 [* The author was a novelist. It may be asked whether he 
 was present at this inauguration. Randall (II, 630), and Par- 
 ton (p. 587) give the story as told by Davis and on his author- 
 ity. Forman, (Life and Writings of Thomas Jeiferson. In- 
 dianapolis, 1900, p. 85) and Spofford, {Centennial Celebration 
 &c. of the District of Columbia, p. 236) say that the story is 
 without foundation. Forman quotes a dispatch of Mr. Thorn- 
 ton, then charge of the British Legation, to the effect that 
 Jefferson walked to the Capitol, attended, — "he came from 
 his own lodgings to the house where the Congress convenes, 
 and which goes by the name of the Capitol, on foot."] 
 
195 
 
 "Friends and Fellow-Citizens, 
 " Called upon to undertake the duties of the 
 " first executive office of our country, I avail 
 " myself of the presence of that portion of my 
 " fellow-citizens, which is here assembled, to 
 " express my grateful thanks for the favour 
 " with which they have been pleased to look 
 " towards me, to declare a sincere conscious- 
 " ness that the task is above my talents, and 
 " that I approach it with those anxious and 
 
 awful presentiments, which the greatness of 
 
 the charge, and the weakness of my powers 
 " so justly inspire. A rising nation, spread 
 " over a wide and fruitful land, traversing all 
 " the seas with the rich productions of their 
 
 industry; engaged in commerce with nations 
 " who feel power and forget right, advancing 
 " rapidly to destinies beyond the reach of mor- 
 " tal eye ; when I contemplate these transcend- 
 " ant objects, and see the honour, the happi- 
 " ness, and the hopes of this beloved country 
 
 committed to the issue and the auspices of 
 " this day, I shrink from the contemplation, 
 " and humble myself before the magnitude of 
 
 the undertaking. Utterly, indeed, should I 
 " despair, did not the presence of many whom 
 " I here see remind me, that in the other high 
 " authorities provided by our Constitution, I 
 
 shall here find resources of wisdom, of vir- 
 
 tue, and of zeal, on which to rely under all 
 " difficulties. To you, then, gentlemen, who 
 
196 
 
 " are charged with the sovereign functions of 
 " legislation, and to those associated with you, 
 " I look with encouragement for that guidance 
 " and support, which may enable us to steer 
 " with safety the vessel in which all are em- 
 " barked, amidst the conflicting elements of a 
 " troubled world. 
 
 During the contest of opinion through 
 " which we have passed, the animation of dis- 
 
 cussions and exertions has sometimes worn 
 " an aspect which might impose on strangers 
 " unused to think freely, and to speak and to 
 " write what they think ; but this being now 
 " decided by the voice of the nation, an- 
 " nounced according to the rules of the Con- 
 " stitution, all will of course arrange them- 
 " selves under the will of the law, and unite 
 
 in one common effort for the common good. 
 " All too will bear in mind this sacred prin- 
 " ciple, that, though the will of the majority is 
 " in all cases to prevail, that will to be right- 
 " ful must be reasonable ; that the minority 
 " possess their equal rights, which equal laws 
 ^' must protect; and to violate would be op- 
 
 pression. Let us, then, fellow-citizens, unite 
 
 with one heart and one mind; let us restore 
 ^' to social intercourse that harmony and affec- 
 " tion, without which liberty, and even life 
 
 itself, are but dreary things; and let us re- 
 " fleet, that having banished from our land 
 ^* that religious intolerance under which man- 
 
197 
 
 kind so long bled and sufifered, we have yet 
 gained little if we countenance a political 
 intolerance, as despotic, as wicked, as ca- 
 pable of as bitter and bloody persecutions. 
 During the throes and convulsions of the 
 ancient world, during the agonizing spasms 
 of infuriated man, seeking through blood 
 and slaughter his long lost liberty, it was not 
 wonderful that the agitation of the billows, 
 should reach even this distant and peaceful 
 shore, — that this should be more felt, and 
 feared by some and less by others, and should 
 divide opinions, as to measures of safety; 
 but every difference of opinion is not a dif- 
 ference of principle. We have called by 
 different names brethren of the same prin- 
 ciple. We are all republicans, all federal- 
 ists. If there be any among us who would 
 wish to dissolve this union, or to change its 
 republican form, let them stand undisturbed 
 as monuments of the safety, with which error 
 of opinion may be tolerated, where reason is 
 left free to combat it. I know, indeed, that 
 some honest men fear that a Republican 
 Government cannot be strong, — that this 
 Government is not strong enough. But 
 would the honest, in the full tide of success- 
 ful experiment, abandon a Government, 
 which has so far kept us free and firm, in the 
 theoretic and visionary fear, that this Gov- 
 ernment, the world's best hope, may, by pos- 
 
198 
 
 " sibility, want energy to preserve itself? I 
 " trust not; I believe this, on the contrary, the 
 " strongest Government on earth. I believe it 
 " the only one, where every man at the call of 
 " the law, would fly to the standard of the law, 
 " and would meet invasions of the public 
 " order, as his own personal concern. Let 
 " us then, with courage and confidence pursue 
 " our own federal and republican principles; 
 " our attachment to union and representative 
 " government. Kindly separated by nature and 
 " a wide ocean, from the exterminating havoc 
 " of one quarter of the globe, too high-minded 
 " to endure the degradations of the others ; 
 " possessing a chosen country, with room 
 " enough for descendants to the thousandth and 
 " ten thousandth generation ; entertaining a 
 " due sense of our equal right to the use of our 
 " own faculties, to the acquisition of our own 
 " industry, to honour and confidence from our 
 " fellow-citizens, resulting not from birth, but 
 " from our actions ; and their sense of them en- 
 lightened by a benign religion, — professed 
 " indeed, and practised in various forms, yet 
 " all of them inculcating honesty, truth, tem- 
 " perance, gratitude, and the love of man — 
 " acknowledging and adoring an over-ruling 
 " Providence, which by all its dispensations, 
 " proves that it delights in the happiness of 
 " man here, and his greater happiness here- 
 " after; with all these blessings, what more is 
 
199 
 
 ' necessary to make us a happy and prosperous 
 ' people? Still one thing more, fellow-citi- 
 ' zens ; a wise and frugal Government, which 
 ' shall restrain men from injuring one an- 
 ' other, shall leave them otherwise free to 
 ' regulate their own pursuits and improve- 
 ' ment, and shall not take from the mouth of 
 ' labour the bread it has earned. This is the 
 ' sum of good government, and this is neces- 
 ' sary to close the circle of our felicities. 
 
 " About to enter, fellow-citizens, on the 
 ' exercise of duties which comprehend every 
 
 thing dear and valuable to you, it is proper 
 
 you should understand what I deem the es- 
 " sential principles of our Government, and 
 " consequently those which ought to shape its 
 
 administration. I will compress them within 
 " the narrowest compass they will bear; stat- 
 
 ing the general principle, but not all its 
 " limitations : — Equal and exact justice to all 
 " men, of whatever state or persuasion, reli- 
 
 gious or political ; peace, commerce, and hon- 
 " est friendship with all nations; entangling 
 "alliances with none; the support of State 
 
 Governments in all their rights, as the most 
 " competent administration for our domestic 
 " concerns, and the surest bulwarks against 
 " anti-republican tendencies; the preservation 
 " of the general Government in its whole 
 " constitutional vigour, as the sheet-anchor of 
 "our peace at home and safety abroad; a 
 
200 
 
 " jealous care of the right of election by the 
 " people; a mild and safe corrective of abuses, 
 " which are lopped by the sword of revolu- 
 " tion, where peaceable remedies are unpro- 
 " vided ; absolute acquiescence in the decisions 
 " of the majority, the vital principle of Re- 
 " publics, from which is no appeal but to force, 
 " the vital principle and immediate parent of 
 "despotism; a well-disciplined militia — our 
 " best reliance in peace, and for the first mo- 
 " ments of war, till regulars may relieve them ; 
 
 the supremacy of the civil over the military 
 " authority; oeconomy in the public expence, 
 "that labour may be lightly burthened; the 
 " honest payment of our debts, and sacred 
 " preservation of the public faith; encourage- 
 " ment of agriculture, and commerce as its 
 " handmaid; the diffusion of information, and 
 " arraignment of all abuses at the bar of the 
 " public reason ; freedom of religion, f ree- 
 " dom of the press, and the freedom of the 
 " person, under protection of the habeas- 
 " corpus: and trial by juries impartially 
 " selected. These principles form the bright 
 " constellation which has gone before us, 
 " and guided our steps through an age of 
 " revolution and reformation. The wisdom of 
 " all our sages, and blood of our heroes, have 
 " been devoted to their attainment: they should 
 " be the creed of our political faith, the text 
 " of civic instruction, the touchstone by which 
 
201 
 
 " to try the services of those whom we trust; 
 
 " and, should we wander from them in mo- 
 ments of error or of alarm, let us hasten 
 to retrace our steps, and regain the road 
 
 " which alone leads to peace, liberty, and 
 
 " safety. 
 
 " I repair, then, fellow-citizens to the post 
 " you have assigned me. With experience 
 " enough in subordinate offices to have seen the 
 " difficulty of this, the greatest of all, I have 
 " learned to expect that it will rarely fall to 
 " the lot of imperfect man, to retire from this 
 " station with the reputation and the favour 
 which bring him into it. Without preten- 
 " sions to that high confidence you reposed in 
 " your first and great revolutionary character, 
 " whose pre-eminent services had entitled him 
 " to the first place in his country's love, and 
 " destined for him the fairest page in the 
 " volume of faithful history, I ask so much 
 " confidence only, as may give firmness and 
 " effect to the legal administration of your 
 " afifairs. I shall often go wrong through de- 
 
 feet of judgment: when right, I shall often 
 " be thought wrong by those whose positions 
 " will not command a view of the whole 
 " ground. I ask your indulgence for my own 
 " errors, which will never be intentional ; and 
 " your support against the errors of others, 
 " who may condemn what they would not if 
 " seen in all its parts. The approbation im- 
 
202 
 
 " plied by your suffrage, is a great consolation 
 " to me for the past; and my future solicitude 
 " will be to retain the good opinion of those 
 " who have bestowed it in advance ; to con- 
 " ciliate that of others, by doing them all the 
 "good in my power; and to be instrumental 
 " to the freedom and happiness of all. 
 
 " Relying, then, on the patronage of your 
 " good-will, I advance with obedience to the 
 " work, ready to retire from it whenever you 
 " become sensible how many better choices it 
 
 is in your power to make ; and may that in- 
 " finite Power which rules the destinies of the 
 " Universe, lead our councils to what is best, 
 " and give them a favourable issue for your 
 " peace and prosperity." * 
 
 [* Randall remarks on this speech, Vol. II, p. 633, — " The 
 number of its phrases which have passed into popular axioms — 
 which are constantly reproduced in political newspapers and 
 addresses, as at the same time the most authoritative and most 
 felicitous expressions of the ideas they embody — is aston- 
 ishing."] 
 
203 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Return to New-York.— Literary Pursuits. — Mag- 
 nificent Promises from a great Man. — The 
 Horizon of Life brightens. — / no longer feed 
 on the Vapours of a School, but depart for the 
 City of Washington, with a Heart dancing to 
 the Song of Expectation — / mingle at Phila- 
 delphia with the Votaries of Taste; and am 
 elbowed by Poets and Prose-Writers, Critics 
 and Philosophers. — / Proceed to Washington. 
 — Interview with the Secretary of the Treasury. 
 — All my Hopes blasted. — I travel into Vir- 
 ginia, by the Way of Alexandria. — A Quaker 
 opens his Door to receive me, and I exchange 
 with him lasting Knowledge for perishable 
 Coin. 
 
 When I had heard the speech of Mr. Jef- 
 ferson, there was nothing more to detain me 
 among the scattered buildings of the desert. 
 On my return to New-York, I became seri- 
 ously busied in directing the tastes and culti- 
 vating the imaginations of the three sons of 
 Mr. Ludlow. The mother had already pol- 
 ished their manners into elegance, and they 
 never entered the room without respectively 
 making me a low bow, not the shuffling bow 
 of a plough boy, but a bow taught them by 
 a dancing-master, and softened into ease by 
 an intercourse with good company. This 
 
204 
 
 put me upon bowing myself, and I recipro- 
 cated bows with them till Ferdinand, who 
 agonized under the slightest invasion of his 
 sensibility, discovered my bow was ironical, 
 and expressed his hope that I would not make 
 a jest of him. But not so the youngest. Ed- 
 ward, who had been just trussed out in panta- 
 loons and boots, would writhe his jolly form, 
 and kick about his legs till both his brothers 
 were speechless with laughter. 
 
 Indolence is more painful than labour to a 
 mind that delights in employment; and there 
 was no abatement of my vigour in my literary 
 vocation. The first impression of the Farmer 
 of New Jersey was nearly exhausted ; a second 
 edition was in the press ; and, animated by its 
 success, Caritat * published my poems in a 
 
 * I would place the bust of Caritat among those of the Sosii 
 of Horace, and the Centryphon of Quintillian. He was my 
 only friend at New-York, when the energies of my mind were 
 depressed by the chilling prospects of poverty. His talents were 
 not meanly cultivated by letters; he could tell a good book 
 from a bad one, which few modern Librarians can do. But 
 place aux dames was his maxim, and all the ladies of New- 
 York declared that the Library of Mr. Caritat was charming. 
 Its shelves could scarcely sustain the weight of Female 
 Frailty, the Posthumous Daughter, and the Cavern of Woe; 
 they required the aid of the carpenter to support the burden of 
 the Cottage-on-the-Moor, the House of Tynian, and the 
 Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne ; or they groaned under the 
 multiplied editions of the Devil in Love, More Ghosts, and 
 Rinaldo Rinaldini. Novels were called for by the young and 
 the old; from the tender virgin of thirteen, whose little heart 
 went pit-a-pat at the approach of a beau; to the experienced 
 matron of three score, who could not read without spectacles. 
 
205 
 
 small volume, which I dedicated to my friend 
 Mr. Burr, who had recently been elected Vice- 
 President of the United States. 
 
 My book, however small, did not escape the 
 Mohawk Reviewers. The criticism is the pro- 
 duction of an Attorney, named Beckman; he 
 writes the Christmas Carols, and furnishes the 
 news-carriers with addresses to their sub- 
 scribers. 
 
 " Those who are sometimes disposed to 
 " amuse their idle moments with * trifles light 
 " as air,' may find some entertainment in this 
 " little volume of poems. Their chief quali- 
 " ties are harmony of numbers, and vivacity of 
 " expression. Not laden with a weight of 
 " sentiment, the verses move easily and lightly 
 " along; and though too short to be tedious, 
 " their brevity is not the vehicle of wit. 
 
 " The Author appears to possess a capacity 
 " for poetical composition, and we should be 
 " pleased to see his ready talents exerted on 
 " topics more dignified or interesting. We 
 " observe several instances of good taste, and 
 " pretty description." 
 
 [Several of these titles are to be traced, a hundred years after. 
 Female Frailty or the History of Miss Wroughton appeared 
 at London in 1772; there was a Cavern of Death published 
 at London in 1794 and at Baltimore in 1795; Castles of Athlin 
 and Dimbayne, 1789, was Mrs. Ann Radcliffe's first novel; 
 the Devil in Love, translation, 1793, of Gazette's Diable Amou- 
 reux. Rinaldo (cf. Lewes, Life of Goethe, II, 86) has been 
 for centuries a romantic name. More Ghosts is a modern title.] 
 
206 
 
 But the time was approaching, when I had 
 every reason to flatter my expectation with ex- 
 changing the Muses' bower for the garden of 
 the Hesperides. Colonel Burr had been 
 elected to the place of Vice-President of the 
 United States, and Colonel Burr was my 
 friend. He had just returned from the city 
 of Washington, and with the most condescend- 
 ing urbanity, did me the honour to call on me 
 at Mr. Ludlow's. Colonel Burr observed, that 
 " Mr. Gallattin having expressed a desire to 
 " procure a Secretary who was skilled in com- 
 " position, he had recommended me as a per- 
 " son qualified to undertake the office, and was 
 " happy to have it in his power to acknowl- 
 " edge by any service, the sensible pleasure 
 " he had received from my literary produc- 
 " tions." 
 
 There is something in the professions of a 
 great man which never fails to impart delight ; 
 our hopes become multiplied; the phantoms 
 of imagination arise in succession, and either 
 point to paths of pleasure, or bowers of re- 
 pose. I heard " the glorious sounds," with no 
 small emotions of joy, and looked forward 
 with anxiety to the hour that was to exalt me 
 from the obscurity of a pedagogue to the 
 magnificence of a Secretary's office. It hap- 
 pened that when the Vice-President proposed 
 to me a place at Washington, the term of my 
 engagement with Mr. Ludlow, had just ex- 
 
207 
 
 pired; and I was compelled to be decisive in 
 the plan of my future operations; I was under 
 the necessity either of resigning the situation, 
 or no longer indulge the visions my fancy had 
 created, from the magnificent promises held 
 out by the Vice-President; hope triumphed 
 over prudence, and I abandoned a salary of 
 a hundred guineas paid me quarterly in ad- 
 vance, for an exaltation that was remote, and 
 at the same time uncertain. 
 
 My pupils could be hardly persuaded I 
 was about to leave them, till I bade them 
 farewell; they shed many tears; but their 
 grief, however violent, was of transient dura- 
 tion; for before I had walked half way down 
 the street, I beheld them return to their ball- 
 playing with more alacrity than ever. It is 
 thus with men ; grief is ever a short-lived pas- 
 sion, and no person is of sufficient consequence 
 to interrupt by his absence the pursuits of his 
 friends. 
 
 In my way to the Stage-office, in Courtland 
 street, I called at the Post-office, where, to 
 my unspeakable joy, I found a copious epistle 
 from my friend at Long Island. Letters, says 
 the illustrious Bacon, come more home to 
 men's bosoms than either annals or lives; and, 
 as by this time, every thing that relates to 
 Mr. George will interest the Poet, the Scholar, 
 and the Wit, I shall engraft without apology 
 his letter upon my Memoirs. 
 
208 
 
 Long Island, June 12, 1801. 
 " While devouring Newtown-pippins, and 
 " drinking cider to the health of your Bard- 
 " ship in my heart, the stage-driver brought 
 " me your welcome epistles. At first, the fel- 
 " low pretended there was no letter for me (I 
 " tolerate these liberties, because the Jehu has 
 " a pretty wife) but in a few minutes, he de- 
 " livered me the packet. Jucundius est legere 
 " quam libere, so I left the old parson, and 
 " his wife, and his daughter, (her nose is like 
 " the tower of Lebanon looking towards Da- 
 " mascus) and I opened, O Devil! thy budget 
 " of Satire. This has revived me, and I now 
 " walk about with your epistles in my hand, 
 " which, however, I am obliged to put down 
 " every five minutes, to hold both my sides 
 " while I laugh it out. 
 
 " By Saint Patrick, I swear, thou art above 
 " all men dear to me. I love thee with more 
 " than brotherly love. I hope we shall never 
 " part. In the vast deserts of the world, I 
 " never could have found such another friend 
 "as thyself; and (to speak in the language 
 " of classic antiquity) I think Apollo himself 
 " must have brought us acquainted. 
 
 " I thank you kindly for the book. It was 
 " a mercy you did not fill it with your letters. 
 " I could wish, however, they had been longer; 
 " for never did you write with more grace, 
 " and less appearance of study. 
 
209 
 
 " This is a beautiful day, and I purpose to 
 " devote it entirely to my blank volume; not 
 in adding one, two, three, nor in balancing 
 "the preponderance of Debtor to Creditor; 
 " but in filling it with new energies of thought, 
 " and new combinations of diction. This 
 " book is really an acquisition. It is scarcely 
 " less formidable, than the mighty one with 
 " which Johnson repressed the insolence of 
 " his book-seller, or to speak in a more heroic 
 " strain, that which Cadmus of old threw 
 " wrathful at the dragon. 
 
 " Tell me if you are about publishing your 
 " poems? Do not go far for a title; nothing 
 " appears so stifip and pedantic as a little book 
 " with a magnificent title. Remember that 
 " Horace gives his odes no other name than 
 " Carmina; though, he might have accumu- 
 " lated a thousand imposing epithets, to deco- 
 " rate his title-page. It is rumoured you in- 
 " tend dedicating your efifusions to Burr. 
 " Avert it literature. Dedicate not the book 
 " to an American. Can Burr, or Maddison, 
 " or Adams, or even Jefferson, add to thQ 
 " reputation of him who aspires to be read on 
 " the banks of the Thames? 
 
 Was there ever so stupid a Priest as this? 
 " I wonder not that you hated him. Do you 
 " recollect when we were sitting by the fire, 
 " how you used to hem, and I to laugh at his 
 " tiresome monotony. The old grasshopper 
 
210 
 
 " asked me very solemnly to-day, which I 
 " thought the better translation of Virgil; 
 " Dry den's or Davidson's!!! * After such an 
 " interrogation, can any reasonable man ex- 
 " pect that I will ever go again to his church; 
 " or is he not enough to make any man 
 " of letters Parens deorum cultor et infre- 
 ''quens?" 
 
 " The girls in this village are mad after 
 ''literature; they know not what to be at. 
 
 " Miss T , a young lady of easy deport- 
 
 " ment, elegant conversation, and bold counte- 
 *' nance, has bought Tasso's Gierusaleme, and 
 " digs in a dictionary for his meaning. She 
 " asked me my opinion of Tasso and the 
 Italian language. Madam, said I, the lan- 
 '' guage of Tasso is not the language of heroes, 
 " but the sing-song of fidlers, and guitar- 
 '' players. The Italian possesses neither the 
 " heroic grandeur of the Greek, the majesty 
 " of the Roman, nor the strength of the Eng- 
 " lish language. 
 
 " Then, cried she, you would advise me to 
 " study English. By all means. Madam, said 
 " I. And, Sir, rejoined the nymph, what 
 " book do you think is best suited to a female? 
 " Glasses Cookery, Madam, said I. 
 
 * Pope pronounced Dryden's translation of Virgil, the noblest 
 version ever produced by one Poet of another; Davidson's 
 translation is in limping, hobbling, shuffling prose ; the solace 
 of Dunces; the clandestine refuge of schoolboys. 
 
211 
 
 " I have passed three hours under an oak- 
 " tree by the way-side, in reading the Iliad. 
 
 " Blair, in his Lectures, says of Homer, that 
 " in description he is concise. The descrip- 
 " tions of Homer, on the contrary, are full 
 
 and expanded paintings of nature. Of the 
 " Homeric poetry, copiousness is the charac- 
 "teristic; of the Virgilian, metaphorical in- 
 " version. 
 
 " There are few metaphorical inflexions of 
 phrase in Homer; in Virgil they overflow. 
 " Virgil says, in the fifth book of his Mneis, 
 " Thus he spoke weeping, and gave the reins 
 " to his fleet." Homer would have expressed 
 " it more simply. Thus in the twelfth Odyssey 
 " he says, " Now they leave the inhospitable 
 " shores of the Cyclops, and sail through the 
 " ocean." This marks strongly the distinc- 
 " tion between the Homeric and Virgilian 
 " poetry. 
 
 " I sometimes amuse myself by translating 
 " from Homer into English verse. I will con- 
 " front a brick of my house with a brick of 
 " Pope's. 
 
 " BY ALEXANDER POPE 
 
 " There in the forum swarm a num'rous train, 
 
 "The subject of debate a townsman slain; 
 
 " One pleads the fine discharg'd, which one denied, 
 
 " And bade the public, and the laws decide. 
 
 " The witnesses appear on either hand, 
 
 " For this or that the partial people stand ; 
 
212 
 
 " The appointed heralds still the noisy bands, 
 " And form a ring with sceptres in their hands." 
 
 " BY LUCAS GEORGE 
 
 " In noisy crouds the populace appear, 
 
 " Rise in debate, and urge the wordy war, 
 
 " Two in contention rose, &c., &c. 
 
 " This pleads his juster cause, attests the skies, 
 
 " That juster still, the seeming fact denies. 
 
 " The witnesses produc'd, the fickle croud 
 
 " To either cause divide, and shout aloud ! 
 
 " Confusion fills the air ; the heralds stand, 
 
 " Extend the sceptre, and the peace command." 
 
 " Pray, in the justice of criticism, do you 
 " not think mine the more spirited translation? 
 " Is not my versification also more regular, 
 "harmonious and natural? Answer this, I 
 " say.* The four last lines of Pope are mo- 
 " notonous ; the pauses fall too late to be lively. 
 " Sum Pius Mneas! &c. &c. 
 
 " Have you ever seen Mambrun's epic poem 
 " in Latin, of Idolatry Overthrown? No. 
 " You see, Sir, how little you know of French 
 " authors.t This poem I have glanced over 
 " (no matter where), and can inform you that 
 " it is below criticism. 
 
 " News. Townshend, the schoolmaster, has 
 " fled. Finding his garrison no longer ten- 
 
 * Answer. NO. t Is not this a bull ? 
 
 [Pierre Mambrun, 1600-1661, of Clermont-Ferrand, but 
 author of Constantinus sive Idolatria debellata.] 
 
213 
 
 " able, he wisely evacuated it, and has em- 
 " barked himself, and his system of book-keep- 
 " ing, for the island of Bermudas. Had this 
 " descendant from Orbilius Flagosus known 
 " Latin, he would, doubtless, have found a 
 " valedictory quotation in Virgil, and ad- 
 " dressed me with it at parting. 
 
 " Nos patriae fines et dulcia linquimus arva, 
 
 " Nos patriam fugimus; tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra, 
 
 " Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas." * 
 
 " The trustees have increased my salary to 
 " a hundred and twenty pounds a-year, with 
 "boarding; so, I believe, I shall continue to 
 " vegetate and eat grass among the Newtown 
 " farmers, till I shall be enabled to look on 
 " the frowns of fortune with a more magnan- 
 " imous countenance. 
 
 " You say you are writing a Novel. There 
 " was a man in Babylon! toll de roll! 
 
 ^' June i8, 1801. 
 
 " I again resume my conversation with you. 
 " Our right reverend Parson has the predict- 
 " ing spirit of Achilles' horse, for he told me 
 " last night we should have fair weather, and 
 " I perceive the sky is without a cloud. 
 
 " The people here are become more atten- 
 " tive to me of late, than they formerly were; 
 " and though I cannot hope for intellectual 
 
 [* Virgil, Ecloga I, 2.] 
 
214 
 
 " felicity, yet I may expect such tranquillity 
 " as (though inglorious) will at least be in- 
 
 dulgent to my literary indolence. 
 
 " I dined yesterday with Mrs. , and her 
 
 " daughter. The old lady told me a story 
 " about you. She said, that instead of de- 
 
 livering Heloise the novel which I sent her 
 " by you from West Chester, you lent it to 
 " her youngest daughter, and palmed upon 
 " Heloise an old history of Rome. — I again 
 " repeat, women know not what to be at. 
 
 " Mrs. acquainted me in a whisper, that 
 
 " she was preparing a critique on your fugi- 
 " tive poems, which she should sign Artimesia, 
 
 and publish it in the Commercial Adver- 
 " tiser. Knowing you to be one of the genus 
 " irritabile vatum, and having the dignity of 
 " your character at heart, I enjoin you not to 
 " reply to this Amazon with anger, but gibbet 
 " her without ceremony to a gallows already 
 " made to your hands. 
 
 " When A rtimesia talks by fits, 
 
 " Of councils, classics, fathers, wits, 
 
 " Reads Malbranche, Boyle and Locke; 
 " Yet in some things methinks she fails, 
 " ' Twere well if she would pare her nails, 
 
 "And wear a cleaner smock!" 
 
 Pope. * 
 
 " Having this gallows in contemplation, I 
 advised Mrs. to publish her stricture; 
 
 [* Imitations of English Poets: Earl of Dorset.] 
 
215 
 
 " complimenting her on her penetration, her 
 " acuteness, and her wit. She ought to be 
 " punished for her temerity. A woman has 
 " no business with a pen in her hand, unless 
 " it be to compute the expences of her house- 
 keeping. When a woman is ambitious of 
 literary distinction, she becomes distracted. 
 " Look at Mrs. Wolstancroffs (I may be for- 
 given for not spelling the name right) Per- 
 version of Women* It is a volume of in- 
 ^' sanity. 
 
 It may be asked. Is a woman then to be 
 debarred access to all books? I say no. If 
 ^' she discovers an avidity of reading, put 
 " a bible into her hands. Let a bible be 
 ^' her manual ; let her lisp the scriptures 
 " in her childhood, and digest them in her- 
 youth. 
 
 " I was at New-York thrice last week. The 
 " last time I wished much to see you, and I 
 " called twice at the little tavern for that 
 "purpose; but you were too indolent to stir 
 out; so I left you to meditate in your cham- 
 ber, and prosecute your lucubrations, while 
 " I walked solitarily round the battery, and 
 " lamented the instability of friendship. 
 
 Heloise has just sent me my stockings and 
 "cravats (delicately mended) by her brother. 
 " She is an amiable little devil, and I often 
 
 [* Mary Wollstonecraft's Wrongs of Women or Maria, two 
 volumes, appeared in 1798.] 
 
2l6 
 
 " go to see her, mea sola voluptas! But rather 
 " than be in love, I would change my human- 
 " ity with a baboon. 
 
 " I am sorry you are occupied in writing a 
 " Novel, because the world has reason to ex- 
 " pect something better. The mind of a young 
 " man of genius resembles a little stream, 
 " which, according to the direction that chance 
 " may give it, is either lost by mixing with 
 
 other channels, or, preserving its course, 
 " enlarges at last its waters, and flows 
 " with the magnificence of the Nile, or the 
 " Ganges. 
 
 " I have sent Lang another essay to insert 
 " in his Gazette. It is the story of an Indian 
 
 warrior; a mere cram; but no matter; any- 
 " thing is good enough for these calm Amer- 
 " icans — fruges consumere nati. 
 
 Do you not think Lang a silly fellow, to 
 " place Franklin's head over his shop? How 
 " the people of New-York would roar with 
 " laughter were such a paragraph as this to 
 " appear in an opposition paper. Yesterday 
 
 Franklin's head fell upon John Lang, Esq. 
 
 the printer, as he was opening his shop-door, 
 " and crushed him to cinders. Alas! poor 
 
 Yorick! 
 
 " Or the following, which would perhaps 
 " be more true. Yesterday the bust of Dr. 
 
 Franklin fell on Mr. Lang, the printer, as 
 " he was opening his shop-door, but, fortu- 
 
217 
 
 " nately striking him in the head, he escaped 
 " unhurt.^ 
 
 " Did you ever read the life of the illustri- 
 ous Franklin? And did you ever read the 
 " memoirs of a Parish Clerk? I, P. P. Clerk 
 " of this parish, writeth this history, Amen! " 
 
 June 23, 1 801. 
 
 " I am just returned from New-York, and 
 " I sit down to relate to thee my eventful 
 " journey. At nine the stage-waggon called 
 " for me at the parson's, and, after travelling 
 " about a mile, we took up a middle-aged 
 " woman, of pleasing circumference, who kept 
 " a small pin-shop on the road. She was a 
 " notable matron, who disdained not brachial 
 " nor genual caresses, and who paid my 
 " ferriage at Brooklyn. Would not this be a 
 favourable opportunity to quote Ledyard's 
 " Praise of Women? And to add, if, in hav- 
 " ing to cross the waters of the western con- 
 " tinent, I was without coin to pay my ferriage, 
 " I never applied to a woman but she put her 
 " hand into her pocket, and pulled out three 
 " farthings! 
 
 " On coming to town, my first care was to 
 " discharge a bill I had incurred at Swords', '\ 
 
 [* John Lang was at this time printer and publisher of the 
 New York Gazette and General Advertiser.] 
 
 t Eminent printers and booksellers at New York. [T. & J. 
 Swords, 160 Pearl Street. Printers to the Faculty of Physic 
 of Columbia College.] 
 
2l8 
 
 " for magazines and reviews. Here I encoun- 
 " tered the great Doctor Phlogiston,^ a gentle- 
 " man of easy address, good habit of body, 
 " and a countenance that indicated the stoicism 
 " of a chymist. 
 
 " I crossed the East River again to Brook- 
 " lyn, with Mrs. Dungan, a lady of polished 
 " manners, and voluble elocution. Seeing a 
 " dirty fellow carrying a portrait of Washing- 
 " ton, — Madam, said I to my fair companion, 
 " General Washington is, I think, in bad 
 " hands. 
 
 " I forgot to tell you — at Swords' I had time 
 
 to look into Gibbon s Memoirs, which were 
 " lying on the counter. His insertion of the 
 " Ode and Sonnet was puerile. And what he 
 " says of Dryden is not less injudicious. My 
 " choler rises when Dryden is depreciated. 
 
 Pope could not describe the rising or setting 
 " of the sun without resorting to Dryden. 
 
 " The most beautiful triplet in all poetry 
 " is to be found in Dryden's version of the 
 
 seventh Mneis. 
 
 " From land a gentle breeze arose by night, "j 
 " Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, v 
 " And the sea trembled with her silver light." \ 
 
 Which, in my opinion, is infinitely superior 
 " to the original. 
 
 [* Dr. Priestley, who came to the United States in 1794. See 
 his ' Reply to his Antiphlogistian Opponents.' Medical Repos- 
 itory, Vol. Ill (1801), p. 116 f¥.] 
 
219 
 
 " Aspirant aurae in noctem, nec Candida cursus 
 
 " Luna negat — splendet tremulo sub lumine pontus." 
 
 " But this is travelling out of my road. 
 
 " At Brooklyn I was accosted by a quondam 
 " acquaintance of George-town, to whom I 
 " was indebted about twenty-five dollars. Vidi 
 " et obstupuil I would rather have met the 
 " great devil. But sic fata tulerunt. After I 
 " had shaken hands with him, the barber of 
 " Brooklyn, to whom in a former expedition 
 " to New-York, I owed one or two shillings 
 " for cutting my hair, came up with a serious 
 " face and demanded his money also. Here 
 "were the devil and barber to pay! Leave, 
 " Sir, said I to the barber, your damnable 
 " countenance, and you shall have your money. 
 
 " From the first invader of my purse I es- 
 " caped as well as I could, and, handing Mrs. 
 " Dungan into the stage, I got in after her 
 
 myself. 
 
 " By these unexpected asperities, my tran- 
 " quillity was disturbed, and I sought an ob- 
 " livion of reflexion in the company of Heloise. 
 
 " What essenc'd youth on bed of blushing roses! " 
 
 " I could get no sleep the whole night. I 
 " know not whether it was love or conscience 
 " kept me awake ; but sleep I could not. I 
 
 cannot think I was a victim to the anointed 
 " sovereign of sighs and groans ; for I repeat, 
 
 that sooner than be in love I would change 
 
220 
 
 " my humanity with a baboon. It was, per- 
 " haps, the Muse who kept me wakeful, for 
 " on my midnight pillow I paraphrased the 
 " description of the War-horse in Job. 
 
 " Proud in his strength, behold the warlike horse 
 
 " Paw the green valley, and demand the course. 
 
 " With stately step he treads the dusty fields 
 
 " Glist'ning with groves of spears and moony shields. 
 
 " First with retorted eye he hears th' alarms 
 
 " Of rushing multitudes and clashing arms. 
 
 " Impatient to be free, he tears the plain, 
 
 " And tosses in his rage, his thunder-waving mane. 
 
 " In vain the javelin glitters in his eyes, 
 
 " He scorns the quiver, and the lance defies. 
 
 " Clouds of thick smoke his fiery nostrils roll, 
 
 " And all the battle rushes on his soul. 
 
 " He sees the moving phalanx rise around, 
 
 " He hears the trumpet, and the shouts resound. 
 
 " He starts! and fir'd by glory bears afar 
 
 " His trembling rider through the ranks of war." 
 
 " I had something of importance to observe 
 " to you. I perceive, with undissembled sor- 
 " row, that you admit words into your vocab- 
 " ulary, for which there is no authority in 
 " the undefiled writers of English. Appreci- 
 
 ate and meliorate are bad words; so are 
 " novel and derange. Of modern writers 
 " none are more ridiculous coiners of words 
 " than the Scotch and Welch Tourists. Of 
 " these one introduces to desiderate, and tor- 
 " tures it through all its inflexions ; and an- 
 " other in descanting upon ruins, says very 
 
221 
 
 " gravely, they were castleated! The infer- 
 " ence to be deduced from the page in which 
 " words of this kind appear is, that the taste 
 " of the writer has been abominably vitiated. 
 
 " The English language is not written with 
 " purity in America* The structure of Mr. 
 " Jefferson's sentences is, I think, French; and 
 " he uses words unintelligible to an English- 
 " man. Where the d — 1 did he get the word 
 " lengthy? Breadthy and depthy would be 
 " equally admissible. I can overlook his word 
 " belittle; it is introduced in wantonness ; but 
 " he has no right, that I know, to out-adverb 
 " all other writers, and improve /// into illy. 
 " Does not his description of the junction of 
 " the Shenandoah with the Potomac, discover 
 " an elevated imagination? But was one of 
 ^' my countrymen to describe the Natural 
 " Bridge (a huge mass of rock) springing as 
 " were, up to heaven,'' would it not be said, 
 " that Paddy had made a bull.t 
 
 * If any work can transmit the English language uncor- 
 rupted to future generations on the banks of the Potomac, and 
 Mississippi it will be our matchless version of the Bible. 
 While religion exists in America, there will be a perpetual 
 standard for the English language. 
 
 [f Davis endorsed the fanciful construction. Cf . his Ameri- 
 can Mariners &c. A Poem. Salisbury, 1822, p. 235 — The 
 Natural Bridge: An Ode. 
 
 When Fancy left her native skies, 
 
 To visit earth, before unseen, 
 
 She bade the swelling fabric rise 
 
 In this sequester' d sylvan scene. 
 
222 
 
 " Come over, will you, to my potatoe- 
 ground next Saturday, and bring with you 
 " your Adventures of Captain Bobadil. You 
 " can pass your Sunday with me — not in an 
 " affectation of holiness, or hypocritical groans 
 "of contrition; but in study and meditation 
 " that lift the soul from its clay-confines, and 
 " transport it to the world of spirits. Vale! " 
 
 I journeyed delightfully from New-York 
 to Philadelphia. My finances were good, and 
 I was going to a place where I had only to 
 extend my arms and catch the golden shower. 
 Let the gloomy moralist insist on the position, 
 that life is rather to be endured than enjoyed ; 
 but hope itself is happiness, and he who has 
 the knack of practising it, cannot be long a 
 victim to melancholy, though he find himself 
 cheated daily by new disappointments. 
 
 At Philadelphia I found Mr. Brown, who 
 felt no remission of his literary diligence, by 
 a change of abode. He was ingratiating him- 
 self into the favour of the ladies by writing a 
 new novel, and rivalling Lopez de Vega by 
 the multitude of his works. Mr. Brown in- 
 troduced me to Mr. Dickins, and Mr. Dickins 
 to Mr, Dennie; Mr. Dennie presented me to 
 
 And here perhaps the Indian stood, 
 With hands upheld, and eye amaz'd, 
 As, sudden, from the devious wood, 
 He first upon the fabric gaz'd &c.] 
 
223 
 
 Mr. Wilkins, and Mr. Wilkins to the Rev. 
 Mr. Abercrombie; a constellation of Amer- 
 ican genius, in whose blaze I was almost con- 
 sumed.* 
 
 Mr. Dennie was remarkable for his facility 
 of expression; he could not only draw for 
 thousands, but had always ready-money in his 
 pocket; and few men excelled more in col- 
 loquial fluency than he. The Rev. Mr. Aber- 
 crombie was impatient of every conversation 
 that did not relate to Dr. Johnson, of whom 
 he could detail every anecdote from the time 
 he trod on a duck, till he purchased an oak 
 stick to repulse Macpherson. He was a can- 
 ister tied to the tail of a canister. Mr. Brown 
 said little, but seemed lost in meditation; his 
 creative fancy was perhaps, conjuring up 
 scenes to spin out the thread of his new novel. 
 
 Mr. Dennie now conducts, at Philadelphia, 
 a literary paper, called the Port Folio. He 
 first distinguished himself by the essays he 
 contributed to the ^'Farmer's Museum'' 
 under the title of the Lay-Preacher. He 
 afterwards became editor of the paper, when 
 its name was changed from the Farmer s Mu- 
 seum to that of the Lay-Preacher s Gazette. 
 The essays of the Lay-Preacher were after- 
 wards collected in a volume, which is, I be- 
 
 [* James Abercrombe of Philadelphia, 1758-1841 ; and pos- 
 sibly the Rev. Isaac Wilkins, of St. Peter's Church, West- 
 chester County, New York.] 
 
224 
 
 lieve, the most popular work on the American 
 continent.* I am of opinion, that the sermons 
 of the Lay-Preacher have rather injured than 
 assisted the cause of religion; to appropriate 
 the remark made by Gray on Yorick, the Lay- 
 Preacher, after exhorting his congregation to 
 righteousness, throws his periwig at their 
 heads. 
 
 The editor of the Aurora calls the Port 
 Folio, the Portable Foolery; and his f acetious- 
 ness is applauded by one party, and scorned 
 by the other. But a better quibble on the 
 word would be, I think, to name it the Court 
 Olio; for it mingles the dresses at St. James, 
 with speculations on literature. — It being 
 rumoured that Mr. Dennie had been denom- 
 inated, by the British Reviewers, the Amer- 
 ican Addison, the following ludicrous para- 
 graph appeared in the Aurora Gazette, t 
 
 " Exult ye white hills of New Hampshire, 
 " redoubtable Monadnock and Tuckaway! 
 
 [*"The Lay Preacher of Dennie and his articles in the 
 Portfolio seem to me feeble and affected, though occasionally 
 marked by considerable excellence. For several years after the 
 death of Brockden Brown, I believe he was the only man in 
 the country who made literature a profession." Griswold, 
 Prose Writers of America, p. 40. " Literature in America 
 is an amusement only, not a profession." Some Information 
 respecting America, collected by Thomas Cooper, late of 
 Manchester. Dublin, 1794, p. 64.] 
 
 [t The Aurora and General Advertiser, of which Benjamin 
 Franklin Bache was the editor. Those were political times. 
 The Portfolio was Federalist and the Aurora was Democratic 
 (Republican).] 
 
225 
 
 " Laugh ye waters of the Winiseopee and 
 " Umbagog Lakes! Flow smooth in heroic 
 " verse ye streams of Amorioosack and Andro- 
 " scoggin, Cockhoko and Coritocook! And 
 " you Merry Merrimack be now more 
 " merry! " 
 
 Mr. Dennie passed his mornings in the shop 
 of Mr. Die kins, which I found the rendezvous 
 of the Philadelphia sons of literature. Blair, 
 author of a poem called the Powers of Genius; 
 Ingersoll, known by a tragedy, of which I 
 forget the title; Stock, celebrated for his 
 dramatic criticisms ; together with several Re- 
 viewers, chartam consumere nati, assembled 
 with punctuality in North Second Street, to 
 the great annoyance of Mr. Die kins, who 
 could scarcely find room to sell his wares. 
 But I thought Mr. Dickins not inferior to 
 any of the constellation; * he was remarkable 
 for the gentleness of his manners, and dis- 
 played not less his good sense by his discourse, 
 than his moderation by his silence. 
 
 I have seldom been at any city in the United 
 States, without forming an acquaintance that 
 has ripened into the intimacy of friendship. 
 My love of the gallic idiom having led me 
 to the shop of Mr. Dufief, a French bookseller, 
 
 [*Asbury Dickins, interested with Dennie in the Portfolio. 
 It was John Blair Linn (1777-1804) who wrote the Powers of 
 Genius. Charles J. Ingersoll, (1782-1862), member of Congress 
 &c., and mover of one of the first railroad bills in this country, 
 published in 1801 a tragedy, Edwy and Elgiva.] 
 
226 
 
 in North Fourth Street; I found his conver- 
 sation and manners so perfectly agreeable, that 
 I hesitated not to accept an invitation to dine 
 with him at his lodgings. 
 
 Though Mr. Dufief had emigrated from 
 France, he was not inferior to any of the Phil- 
 adelphia citizens in the pertinacity of his dili- 
 gence. He had discovered that it was a posi- 
 tion not only in Europe, but America, that the 
 man who wanted money, was in want of every- 
 thing; and directing his course toward the 
 same goal for which so many millions were 
 panting, he practised every art by which he 
 could honestly put money in his purse. He 
 opened a bookseller's shop, and placed an un- 
 saleable bust of Voltaire over his door; he 
 published a French grammar, on a plan en- 
 tirely new; and taught French to those who 
 would learn it. In a word, when I became 
 acquainted with Mr. Dufief, he was about to 
 open a lounging room for the Muscadins of 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 Mr. Dufief did me the honour to shew me 
 every place, in or near, Philadelphia, that 
 it was fashionable to visit. The Museum, 
 Gray's Gardens,* the Quaker's Meeting, and 
 
 [*Cf. Wansey's Journal, pp. 134-136; p. 154, — "At Peale's 
 Museum, I was entertained for two or three hours, in viewing 
 his collection of artificial and natural curiosities. But what 
 particularly struck me at this place, was portraits (kit-cat 
 length) of all the leading men concerned in the late revo- 
 lution, which after a century hence will be very valuable in the 
 
227 
 
 State-House-Yard; together with the Water- 
 works at Schuylkill, and Wax-work in Ship- 
 pen-street, were familiar to the boundless 
 curiosity of my attentive companion. Nor 
 did he forget the ox, whose bulk was so un- 
 usual to animals of the same species on the 
 American continent. Indeed it ought not to 
 escape notice, that when an ox in the United 
 States attains the ordinary growth of one in 
 England, it becomes a source of riches to the 
 proprietor, by a private exhibition. 
 
 The round of amusements at Philadelphia, 
 did not make me neglect the Wanderings of 
 William. But Mr. Dickins waved his claim 
 to the copyright in favour of Mr. Thompson, 
 who put it to the press before I left Philadel- 
 phia. Mr. Thompson had just printed a 
 superb edition of the Notes on Virginia; and 
 was exceeded by no man in the typographical 
 elegance of the works that issued from his 
 press.* 
 
 But the honours that awaited me at Wash- 
 ington employed principally my thoughts; I 
 
 eyes of posterity "—" On our return we stopped at Grey's 
 Gardens, a place of entertainment, like Bagnigge Wells. It 
 stands at the ferry of the Skuylkill, almost four miles from the 
 city, and is much frequented by parties of pleasure from 
 thence." Cf. also, William Priest, Travels in the United States 
 from 1793 to 1/97 • London, 1802, p. 34.] 
 
 [* Sabin describes the edition of the Notes on Virginia, 
 ' Philadelphia, 1801. For R. T. Rawle,' as perhaps the best 
 edition before 1846. Cf. Brissot, New Travels in the United 
 States, 1788, I. 97— 'Isaiah Thomas (of Worcester, Massa- 
 chusetts,) is the Didot of America.'] 
 
228 
 
 reproached myself in secret for not hastening 
 my departure from Philadelphia; and, re- 
 solved not to be dainty in taking leave of my 
 new friends ; I left them to bewail my absence, 
 and envy my exaltation ! 
 
 I travelled in the coach, and was put down, 
 with another passenger, to stop the night, at 
 a tavern, built on a bank of the river Susque- 
 hannah. It was delightfully situated, com- 
 manding the prospect of Chesapeak Bay, and 
 the little town of Havre de Grace. The ac- 
 commodations at the tavern were elegant, and 
 a Mulatto girl waited at supper, whose beauty 
 entitled her to a better office than that of 
 brushing away flies from the guests with a 
 peacock's feather. 
 
 I repined at being waked before it was light 
 by the horn of the driver; but I was repaid 
 for the disturbance of my morning slumbers 
 by the spectacle of the rising sun. His first 
 rays gilded the herbage, yet humid with the 
 dews of night; and the carol of the mocking- 
 bird, though faint, saluted the return of day. 
 
 We prosecuted our journey to Baltimore, 
 in charming spirits, a happy constitution of 
 temper made every place alike to my com- 
 panion ; and his advance in years seemed only 
 to have brought with them a higher relish for 
 life. 
 
 At Baltimore I separated from Mr. Paine, 
 whose profession I had not discovered, but 
 
229 
 
 whom I suspect to have been what Americans 
 call, A speculator in lands. 
 
 The next morning I resumed my journey 
 for the city of Washington, passing in my way 
 thither through no place of any note, unless 
 it be a little town called Bladensburgh, built 
 on the water of the Eastern Branch of the 
 Potomac. 
 
 Washington, on my second journey to it, 
 wore a very dreary aspect. The multitude 
 had gone to their homes, and the inhabitants 
 of the place were few. There were no objects 
 to catch the eye, but a forlorn pilgrim forcing 
 his way through the grass that overruns the 
 streets; or a cow ruminating on a bank, from 
 whose neck depended a bell, that the animal 
 might be found the more readily in the woods. 
 
 I obtained accommodations at the Washing- 
 ton tavern, which stands opposite the Treas- 
 ury. At this tavern I took my meals at the 
 public table, where there was every day to 
 be found a number of clerks, employed at 
 the different offices under Government; to- 
 gether with about half a dozen Virginians, 
 and a few New England men. There was a 
 perpetual conflict of opinions between these 
 southern and northern men; and one night, 
 after supper, I was present at a vehement dis- 
 pute, which terminated in the loss of a horse, 
 a saddle, and a bridle. 
 
 The dispute was about Dr. Franklin; the 
 
230 
 
 man from New-England, enthusiastic in what 
 related to Franklin, asserted that, the Doctor 
 being self-taught, was original in every thing 
 that he had ever published. 
 
 " Sir," replied the Virginian, " the writings 
 " of Franklin, so far from being original, 
 " exhibit nothing but a transposition of the 
 " thoughts of others. Nay, Franklin is a 
 " downright plagiarist. Let him retain only 
 " his own feathers ; let those he has stolen be 
 " restored to their lawful possessors, and, 
 " Franklin, who now struts about expanding 
 " the gayest plumage, will be without a single 
 " feather to cover his rump." (A loud laugh 
 from the whole party.) 
 
 New-England Man. If accusation without 
 proof can condemn a man, who, Sir, shall be 
 innocent? Sir, you are a Virginian. I in- 
 tend no personal reflection, but it is notorious 
 that the southern people do not hold the mem- 
 ory of Franklin in much estimation. But 
 hear what a Latin writer says of him. Eripuit 
 ccelo something — Gentlemen, I have forgot 
 the most of my Latin; I cannot quote so cor- 
 rectly now as I did once ; but this I can assure 
 you, and you may rely on my word for it, that 
 the compliment is a very fine one. 
 
 Virginian. I know the line you advert to; 
 it was an eruption of mad enthusiasm from 
 the disordered intellect of Turgot. But this 
 is digressing from our subject; I maintain, and 
 
231 
 
 can prove, that Franklin is a plagiarist; a 
 downright, bare-faced, shameless plagiarist. 
 
 New-England Man. Franklin, perhaps, 
 Sir, had not that stoical calmness, which a 
 great man in your State is remarkable for; 
 he did not endeavour to catch applause by 
 baiting his hook with affected diffidence. 
 Franklin was above it. His penetration dis- 
 covered, and his candour acknowledged, that 
 sheer impudence was at any time less injurious 
 than mock-modesty. 
 
 Virginian. Sir, an oracular darkness ac- 
 companies your discourse. But why retreat? 
 Why not stand your ground? Why not evince 
 yourself the champion of Franklin? Again 
 I throw down the gauntlet! Franklin, I 
 maintain was a shameless plagiarist. 
 
 New-England Man. Have you a horse 
 here, my friend? 
 
 Virginian. Sir, I hope you do not suppose 
 that I came hither on foot from Virginia. I 
 have. Sir, in Mr. White's stable the prettiest 
 Chickasaw that ever trod upon four pasterns. 
 I swopped for her a roan horse; Mr. Gibhs, 
 you remember my roan (turning to a man in 
 company), I say, I swopped for her a roan 
 with Mad-Dog, the Chickasaw Chief, who 
 lives on the Mississippi. 
 
 New-England Man. And I have a bay 
 mare here, that I bought of Nezer Mattocks, 
 at Salem. I gave ninety dollars in hard cash 
 
232 
 
 for her. Now, I, my friend, will lay my bay 
 mare against your Chickasaw, that Doctor 
 Franklin is not a plagiarist. 
 
 Virginian. Done! Go it! Waiter! You 
 waiter! 
 
 The waiter obeyed the summons, and mak- 
 ing the Virginian a bow, replied, You call, 
 Mossa Ryland? 
 
 Virginian. Yes, Atticus. Bring down my 
 portmanteau out of my room. I never 
 travel without books. And it critically 
 happens, that in my portmanteau, I have 
 both Franklin s Miscellanies, and Taylor's 
 Discourses. 
 
 The trunk being opened, the Virginian put 
 Franklin s Miscellanies into the hand of the 
 disputant, and desired he would read the cel- 
 ebrated Parable against persecution. 
 
 New-England Man (reading). "And it 
 " came to pass, after these things, that Abra- 
 " ham sat in the door of his tent, about the 
 
 going down of the sun. And behold a man, 
 " bent with age, coming from the way of the 
 " wilderness leaning on his staff! And Abra- 
 
 ham arose and met him, and said unto him: 
 " Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and 
 
 tarry all night; and thou shalt arise early in 
 
 the morning, and go on thy way, and the 
 " man said. Nay; for I will abide under this 
 " tree. But Abraham pressed him greatly; 
 " so he turned, and they went into the tent — 
 
233 
 
 " and Abraham baked unleavened bread, and 
 " they did eat. And when Abraham saw that 
 " the man blessed not God, he said unto him, 
 " wherefore dost thou not worship the Most 
 " High God, Creator of heaven and earth? 
 " And the man answered, and said, I do not 
 worship thy God, neither do I call upon 
 " his name; for I have made to myself a god, 
 " which abideth in my house, and provideth 
 " me with all things. And Abraham's zeal 
 "was kindled against the man; and he arose 
 " and fell upon him, and drove him forth with 
 " blows into the wilderness. And God called 
 " unto Abraham, saying, Abraham, where is 
 " the stranger? And Abraham answered and 
 " said. Lord, he would not worship thee, 
 " neither would he call upon thy name; there- 
 " fore have I driven him out from before my 
 " face into the wilderness. And God said, 
 " Have I borne with him these hundred and 
 " ninety and eight years, and nourished him, 
 " and cloathed him, notwithstanding his re- 
 " bellion against me; and couldest not thou, 
 " who art thyself a sinner, bear with him one 
 " night? " 
 
 The New-England Man having read the 
 parable, he turned to the company, and with 
 tumultuous rapture, exclaimed, " What a 
 noble lesson is this to the intolerant! Can 
 any thing speak more home? Why the writer 
 appears inspired." 
 
234 
 
 And inspired he was, cried the Virginian. 
 There is nothing in that parable, Sir, natural; 
 every word of it was revealed. It all came to 
 Franklin from Bishop Taylor. There, Sir, 
 read and be convinced. This book was 
 printed more than a century ago; it is a 
 volume of Polemical Discourses. 
 
 New-England Man (reading). ''When 
 " Abraham sat at his tent door, according to 
 ''his custom, waiting to entertain strangers, 
 " he espied an old man stooping and leaning 
 " on his stafif, weary with age and travel, com- 
 " ing towards him, who was an hundred years 
 
 of age. He received him kindly, washed 
 " his feet, provided supper, and caused him 
 " to sit down ; but observing that the old man 
 II ate and prayed not, nor begged for a blessing 
 
 on his meat, he asked him why he did not 
 I' worship the God of heaven? The old man 
 " told him, that he worshipped the fire only, 
 " and acknowledged no other god. At which 
 " answer Abraham grew so zealously angry, 
 " that he thrust the old man out of his tent, 
 " and exposed him to all the evils of the night, 
 " and an unguarded condition. When the old 
 || man was gone, God called to Abraham, and 
 " asked him where the stranger was? He re- 
 " plied, I thrust him away, because he did not 
 " worship thee. God answered him, I have 
 " suf¥ered him these hundred years, although 
 
 he dishonoured me ; and couldest not thou 
 
235 
 
 " endure him one night, and when he gave 
 " thee no trouble? " * 
 
 The New-England Man having done read- 
 ing, the Virginian leaped from his seat, and, 
 calling the waiter, exclaimed, " Atticus! Tell 
 " the ostler to put the bay mare in the next 
 " stall to the Chickasaw, and, do you hear, 
 " give her half a gallon of oats more upon 
 the strength of her having a new master." 
 
 Here followed a hearty laugh from the 
 audience; but the New-England Man ex- 
 hibited strong symptoms of chagrin. " Devil 
 " take Franklin" said he. "An impostor! a 
 " humbug." " If he ever obtains the wish he 
 " expresses in his epitaph, of undergoing a 
 " new edition in the next world, may his pla- 
 " giarisms be omitted, that no more wagers 
 " may be lost by them." 
 
 ''His epitaph, did you say. Sir? " cried the 
 Virginian. " I hardly think he came by that 
 " honestly." 
 
 New-England Man. Sir, I will lay you my 
 saddle of it; a bran new saddle. Jonathan 
 Gregory, of Boston, imported it from London. 
 
 Virginian. My saddle. Sir, is imported 
 too. — I swopped a double-barrelled gun for 
 it with Mr. Racer, of Fairfax County. And 
 I will not only lay my saddle against your's, 
 Sir, that Franklin did not come honestly by 
 
 [*Dr. Franklin is specific. The story is doubtless a Tal- 
 mudic legend.] 
 
236 
 
 his epitaph; but I will lay my snaffle-bridle, 
 and my curb, my plated stirrups and stirrup 
 leathers — aye, and my martingale into the 
 bargain. 
 
 New-England Man. Done! Go it! Now 
 for your proof. 
 
 Virginian. Is there any gentleman in com- 
 pany besides myself, who understands Latin. 
 If there is, let him have the goodness to speak. 
 
 New-England Man. This gentleman who 
 came with me from Salem, is not only a Latin, 
 but a Greek scholar. He was reared at Cam- 
 bridge.'^ He will talk Latin with Professor 
 Willard an hour by the clock. 
 
 Virginian. Then, Sir, I believe, he will 
 adjudge to me your imported saddle. Will 
 you do me the favour to introduce me to your 
 companion. 
 
 New-England Man. This, Sir, is Mr. 
 Meadows. He is the author of an Ode on 
 the Clam Feast.t 
 
 Virginian. Mr. Meadows, give me leave. 
 Within the cover of this book you will find 
 the epitaph which passes as Franklin s. I 
 entreat you to read it aloud. 
 
 * An University near Boston. 
 
 t The first emigrants to New England, appeased their 
 hunger, upon landing on the shore of America, with some 
 shell-fish they found on the beach, known in popular language 
 by the name of Clams. The anniversary of this day is every 
 year celebrated on the spot, by their descendants, who feast 
 upon Clams. 
 
237 
 
 Mr. Meadows (reading). 
 
 " THE BODY 
 of 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, Printer, 
 
 (Like the cover of an old book. 
 Its contents torn out. 
 And stript of its lettering and gilding) 
 Lies here, food for worms. 
 Yet the Work itself shall not be lost : 
 For it will (as he believ'd) appear once more 
 In a new 
 And more beautiful Edition, 
 Corrected and Amended 
 By 
 
 The Author." 
 
 New-England Man. Well, Sir! And 
 what objection can you make to this? Does 
 it not breathe humility? Is it not a lecture 
 on mortality? 
 
 Virginian. Sir, it was not honestly come 
 by. Franklin robbed a little boy of it. The 
 very words, Sir, are taken from a Latin 
 epitaph written on a bookseller, by an Eton 
 scholar. Mr. Meadows, do. Sir, read the 
 epitaph which I have pasted on the other 
 cover.* 
 
 * If it should be objected that Franklin was ignorant of 
 Latin, let it be told that, an English translation of this epitaph 
 may be found in the Gentleman's Magazine, for February, 
 i72,(>- The source, probably, from which Franklin got his 
 thought. 
 
238 
 
 Mr. Meadows (reads). 
 
 " Vitse volumine peracto, 
 Hie finis JACOBI TONSON, 
 Perpoliti Sosiorum principis : 
 Qui, velut obstetrix musarum, 
 In lucem edidit 
 Felices ingenii partus. 
 Lugete, scriptorum chorus, 
 Et frangite calamos; 
 Hie vester, margine erasus, deletur! 
 Sed haec postrema inscriptio 
 Huic primes mortis pagince 
 
 Imprimatur, 
 Ne prelo sepulchri comissus, 
 Ipse editor careat titulo : 
 Hie jacet bibliopola, 
 Folio vitas delapso, 
 Expeetans Novam Editionem 
 Auctiorem et Emendatiorem." 
 
 Virginian. Well, Mr. Meadows, what say 
 you? Is this accidental or studied similitude? 
 What say you, Mr. Meadows? 
 
 Mr. Meadows. The saddle, Sir, is yours! 
 
 On hearing this laconic, but decisive sen- 
 tence pronounced by his friend, the New- 
 England Man grew outrageous — which served 
 only to augment the triumph of the Virginian. 
 Be pacified, cried he. I will give you another 
 chance. I will lay you my boots against 
 your's, that Franklin's pretended discovery of 
 calming troubled waters by pouring upon 
 them oil, may be found in the third book of 
 Bede's History of the Church; or that his 
 facetious essay on the air-bath, is poached 
 
239 
 
 word for word from Aubrey's Miscellanies. 
 What say you ? 
 
 Why I say, returned the New-England 
 Man, that I should be sorry to go bootless 
 home, and therefore, I will lay no more wagers 
 about Doctor Franklin's originality. 
 
 At the Washington tavern I found seven 
 Cherokee Chiefs, who had attended the Pres- 
 ident's levee on the 4th of July, they came to 
 be instructed in the mode of European agri- 
 culture. 
 
 Of this circumstance Mr. Jefferson speaks 
 in his Message to Congress: " I am happy 
 " to inform you, that the continued efforts to 
 
 introduce among our Indian neighbours, the 
 " implements and practice of husbandry, and 
 " of the household arts, have not been without 
 " success : that they are become more and more 
 " sensible of the superiority of this dependance 
 " for clothing and subsistence, over the pre- 
 " carious resources of hunting and fishing: and 
 " already we are able to announce that, in- 
 " stead of that constant diminution of their 
 " numbers produced by their wars and their 
 " wants, some of them begin to experience an 
 " increase of population." * 
 
 If agriculture be deserving the attention 
 of the Indians, it has also a powerful claim 
 to that of the people of the United States ; for 
 it may be considered the firmest pillar of their 
 national prosperity. 
 
 [* First Message, Dec. 8, 1801.] 
 
240 
 
 It is, I think, to be wished that the principal 
 citizens of the United States would enrol 
 themselves into what might be termed a 
 Georgical Society, which should be divided 
 into four classes. The first should compre- 
 hend experiments made to ascertain the pecu- 
 liar qualities, and comparative value of plants, 
 together with the purposes to which they 
 ought to be applied. The second should re- 
 late to the culture of plants, and the ascer- 
 taining the efifects of different manures in facil- 
 itating their growth. The third should in- 
 clude experiments to determine the peculiar 
 qualities of difiPerent soils. The fourth should 
 be devoted to experiments for facilitating the 
 operations of agriculture by improvements in 
 machinery, and the distinguishing of what 
 animals are the best adapted to labour, as it 
 relates to climate.* 
 
 In such a Republic of Planters and Farmers, 
 how would the knowledge of the most useful 
 of all arts be promoted. Hints would be im- 
 proved into experiments; the speculations of 
 the theorist would be confirmed, or over- 
 thrown, by an appeal to practice; observations 
 would be produced, that still tended to more 
 useful inquiries; and even errors would lead 
 
 [* Cf. Washington's Speech to both Houses of Congress, 
 Dec. 7, 1796, Sparks, XII, 70; Ford, XIII, 348. Experiment 
 stations for North America are recommended passim in 
 American Husbandry. London, 1775. 2 vols.] 
 
241 
 
 to important truths, by stimulating the ardour 
 of inquiry to refute them. 
 
 Without such a Society what agricultural 
 improvements can be expected? Planters at 
 present have no incitements to consult books, 
 or alter their mode of husbandry. They are 
 contented to tread tamely in the footsteps of 
 their forefathers, and consider as mere vision- 
 aries the writers on agriculture. 
 
 I return from this digression to my business 
 at W ashington, which was to wait on the Sec- 
 retary of the Treasury, by whom I expected 
 to be invested without delay in some diplo- 
 matic department. Bear witness, ye powers, 
 with what visions of greatness I feasted my 
 imagination, as I walked from the tavern to 
 the Treasury! The door-keeper desired to 
 know my business. I wanted to see Mr. Gal- 
 latin; but Mr. Gallatin was engaged in an 
 audience with the seven Cherokee Chiefs, who 
 called every Monday morning at the Treasury 
 for their weekly stipend from Government. I 
 was somewhat chagrined that Mr. Gallatin 
 should suffer the savages of the wilderness 
 to take precedence of me, (I had sent up my 
 name), but my chagrin soon gave place to an 
 admiration of his policy; for I recollected 
 these War Captains wore their tomahawks, 
 and that they were men of an irascible temper. 
 
 In a few minutes, these warriors of scalping 
 memory, descended the Treasury-stairs, which 
 
242 
 
 groaned under their giant-limbs; and I was 
 ushered into the room where the Secretary in 
 solemn greatness settled the expenditures of 
 the nation. 
 
 Mr. Gallatin heard the object of my mission 
 with patience; when he with the utmost com- 
 posure observed that " the organization of the 
 " offices in the Treasury, under the preceding 
 " Administration, had been too complicated, 
 " and that far from having any place to give 
 " away, the employments of inferior diplo- 
 matic agency were yet to be diminished. Yet 
 " he was sorry, very sorry, I should travel so 
 " far to encounter disappointment. But the 
 " Vice-President had certainly misunderstood 
 " him. He had not the pleasure of knowing 
 " me. It was another person of the same 
 " name, whom he had spoken of to Mr. Burr; 
 " but even for him there was now no office, 
 
 as all such offices were in future to be regu- 
 " lated by legislative power, and legislature 
 " thought the ramifications of office too mul- 
 " tiplied. But he was sorry, very sorry, I had 
 " travelled so far to no purpose." 
 
 During this speech my colour went and 
 came. 
 
 Obstupui! steteruntque comce et vox faucibus hoesit! * 
 
 But recovering from my stupor, I replied, 
 that I had not travelled to no purpose, for 
 
 [*Aeneid, II, v. 774.] 
 
243 
 
 I had not only seen the city of Washington, 
 but also Mr. Gallatin; and making him a very 
 low bow, I again walked down the Treasury- 
 stairs 1 
 
 My ambition was now blasted, and I learned 
 how little dependance was to be placed in 
 the magnificent promises of greatness. Yet 
 I was determined my happiness should not be 
 irrecoverably destroyed by a single blow, and 
 instead of resigning my mind to gloom and 
 despondency, I immediately built another 
 castle in the air, not less desirable than the 
 one I had missed on firm ground; for I had 
 not yet lost the knack of comparing my pos- 
 sible with my actual condition. 
 
 Finding a schooner at George-town^ ready 
 to sail for Alexandria, I put my trunk on board 
 of her, and left without regret the Imperial 
 City, where I had encountered only disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 The wind being contrary, we had to work 
 down the Potomac. — The river here is very 
 beautiful. Mason's Island forms one con- 
 tinued garden; but what particularly catches 
 the eye is the Capitol, rising with sacred maj- 
 esty above the woods. 
 
 Our boat turned well to windward, and in 
 an hour we landed at the Widow Bull's house, 
 which may be considered half way to Alex- 
 andria. Here having quaffed and smoked to- 
 gether under the shade of a spreading locust 
 
244 
 
 tree, we once more committed ourselves to the 
 waters of the Potomac. 
 
 In approaching Alexandria, we passed an 
 house on our right, in which the Paphian god- 
 dess had erected an altar. Some damsels were 
 bathing before the door, who practised every 
 allurement to make us land; but we treated 
 their invitations with the insolence of con- 
 tempt. Oh I Modesty! supreme voluptuous- 
 ness of love! what charms does a woman lose 
 when she renounces thee! What care, if she 
 knew thy empire over the breast of man, would 
 she take to preserve thee, if not from virtue, at 
 least from coquetry. 
 
 It was easier landing at Alexandria in Amer- 
 ica, than Alexandria in Egypt; and I found 
 elegant accomodations at Gadeshy's hotel. It 
 is observable that Gadesby keeps the best house 
 of entertainment in the United States. 
 
 It was the middle of July, when I landed at 
 Alexandria, and the heat was excessive. The 
 acrimony of the bilious humours was conse- 
 quently excited, and the diarrhoea and dysen- 
 tery prevailed among the inhabitants; yet the 
 taverns were frequented, for, Americans to 
 preserve health, adopt the Brunonian system 
 of keeping up the excitement. 
 
 The splendour of Gadesby's hotel not suit- 
 ing my finances, I removed to a public-house 
 kept by a Dutchman, whose Frow was a curi- 
 ous creature. I insert a specimen of her talk: 
 
245 
 
 " This hot weather makes a body feel odd. 
 " How long would a body be going from 
 " W ashing ton to Baltimore? How the mos- 
 " quitoes bite a body, &c." But I left the body 
 of my landlady to approach that of her daugh- 
 ter, whose body resembled one of those pro- 
 tuberant figures which Rubens loved to depict. 
 
 To what slight causes does a man owe some 
 of the principal events of his life. I had been 
 a fortnight at Alexandria, when, in conse- 
 quence of a short advertisement I had put in 
 the Gazette, a gentleman was deputed to wait 
 on me from a Quaker, on the banks of the 
 Occoquan, who wanted a Tutor for his chil- 
 dren. Mr. Ridgeway was what is called a 
 supple Quaker. With those of his own sect, 
 none could be more formal ; but among men of 
 the world, he could practise all the arts of 
 conciliation; and knew how to flatter a lady 
 from the lustre of her eyes down to the taste 
 of her shoe-string. 
 
 A Quaker accompanied him to the door, 
 with whom he exchanged only the monosyl- 
 lables, yea and nay; but no sooner had he 
 turned his back, than Friend Ridgeway intro- 
 duced himself to me with the bow of a danc- 
 ing-master; expressed the earnest desire Mr. 
 Ellicott had to engage me in his family, and 
 lavished his eloquence on the romantic beau- 
 ties of the river Occoquan, and the stupendous 
 mountains that nodded over its banks. 
 
246 
 
 The following evening, I left Alexandria on 
 horseback, to visit the abode of Mr. Ellicott. 
 But I had scarce ridden a couple of miles, 
 when a violent storm of rain overtook me, 
 and I sought shelter in a tailor's shop by the 
 way-side. The tailor laid down his goose at 
 my approach, and we soon entered into a 
 political discussion, which ended with his lam- 
 entations over the miseries of the times, and 
 a determination to support the Rights of Man. 
 
 It was six o'clock before the rain subsided, 
 and I was in suspense whether to return to 
 Alexandria, or prosecute my journey, when 
 the tailor informed me, that only two miles 
 further lived a very honest farmer, who ac- 
 comodated Travellers with a bed. His name 
 was Violet. 
 
 But why, said the tailor, not go on to Mount 
 Vernon 
 
 What, friend, should I do there? 
 Why, Sir, a gentleman is always well re- 
 ceived. 
 
 I made the tailor an inclination of my head; 
 but Mount Vernon was as remote from my 
 thoughts as Mount Vesuvius. 
 
 I pursued my journey, but, after riding two 
 miles, instead of reaching the farm of Mr. 
 Violet, my horse stopped before the door of a 
 log-house, built on the brow of a hill. The 
 man of the house was sitting under an awning 
 of dried boughs, smoking in silence his pipe; 
 
247 
 
 and his wife occupied a chair by his side, 
 warbling her lyrics over the circling wheel. 
 
 Will you alight, Sir, said the man, and rest 
 yourself in the shade? Your horse looks well, 
 Sir. He appears to be a mighty well-condi- 
 tioned brute. What, if I may be so bold. Sir, 
 did he cost you? 
 
 Why, Sir, the creature is worth a hundred 
 and fifty dollars. The horse is young, quite 
 young; he will be only five years old next 
 Spring. Do put your hand into his mouth. 
 
 Excuse me. Sir. I never trust my hands in 
 a horse's mouth: the brute may be vicious. 
 But should you ever want any thing done to 
 him, I shall be happy to serve you. My name 
 is Kaiting. I have long been used to cutting 
 and splaying all kinds of creatures. 
 
 Can you fox and nick a horse, Mr. Kaiting? 
 
 Aye, Sir, and cure all sorts of distempers; 
 whether spavins, or ringbones, or cribs, or 
 yellow-water, or blind-staggers, or weak eyes, 
 or glanders. 
 
 Hum! What a catalogue of complaints is 
 horse-flesh heir to. But can you inform me 
 how far it is to the house of Farmer Violet. 
 
 I suspect it is a mile. 
 
 Come, none of your suspicions, but tell me 
 candidly, my friend, do you think I can be ac- 
 comodated there for the night. 
 
 Aye, as elegantly as you would be at 
 Gad e shy's! 
 
248 
 
 And how shall I know the house? 
 
 It has a chimney at each end like my own. 
 
 The house, you say, is like your's. 
 
 Psha! It is better than mine; it is weather 
 boarded. I pay no taxes for my house; the 
 tax-gatherers value it below a hundred dollars. 
 
 I had not time to reply, before a goose 
 waddled out of the house towards the place 
 where Mr. Kaiting and his wife were sitting, 
 followed by a tame frog that jumped in con- 
 cert with his feathered companion. It was a 
 singular spectacle, and would have afforded 
 little pleasure to an unreflecting mind. But it 
 was to me a most pleasing speculation, to be- 
 hold this worthy couple extending their pro- 
 tection to a goose and a frog; it verified the 
 remark of Sterne, that the heart wants some- 
 thing to be kind to. 
 
 Then, Sir, said I, you do not consider the 
 frog a nuisance? You would not kill it? 
 
 Kill it! I should as soon think of putting 
 an end to my own life. There was a gentle- 
 man from Fredericksburg, who stopped last 
 week at my house to give his horse a bite of 
 clover. He had hardly sat down under the 
 awning, when the frog came out of the house, 
 and hopped towards his chair. That's a 
 cursed impudent frog, says he, and lifting up 
 his arm, he made a blow at the animal with 
 his whip. We were all in consternation. My 
 wife screamed; I held out my leg to intercept 
 
249 
 
 the blow; and the goose, who seldom quits 
 the frog, flew at the man with the strength and 
 fury of an eagle. It was lucky his whip missed 
 the frog, for had he killed him, there would 
 not have been a dry eye in the house for a 
 week. 
 
 I would willingly have protracted my con- 
 versation with so humane a person, had not 
 the sky, which was overcast, indicated there 
 was no time to be lost. I, therefore, put spurs 
 to my nag, and departed at a gallop. It was 
 not quite twilight, and my situation brought 
 to my recollection a passage in the Poet of 
 Nature. 
 
 The West yet glimmers with some streaks of day : 
 Now spurs the lated Traveller apace, 
 To gain the timely Inn. 
 
 But I had scarce proceeded a mile when a 
 storm of rain, lightning, and thunder, gave 
 me some solicitude for my night's lodging; 
 I could perceive no house ; and the only alter- 
 native left was to scour along the road, while 
 the tempest howled wildly from the woods on 
 both sides. 
 
 At length, I descried a light, which, I flat- 
 tered myself blazed from the window of Mr. 
 Violet's house; but instead of dismounting at 
 the portico of a mansion that vied in magnifi- 
 cence with Gadesby's hotel, I found myself 
 before the door of a miserable log-house. 
 
250 
 
 A mulatto woman, with a child at her breast, 
 put her head out of the door as I alighted from 
 my horse. We don't keep tavern here, said 
 this olive beauty, in an accent not the most 
 conciliating. 
 
 No ! but you have a roof to your house, said 
 I, dismounting, and that in a storm is a suffi- 
 cient invitation. 
 
 The log-house was not empty. A mulatto- 
 girl, of seventeen, was sitting in one corner in 
 dalliance with a white youth of about thirty- 
 five, who discovered no confusion at my un- 
 expected entrance. But the olive Dulcinea 
 was less confident in her aspect, and played 
 the woman to perfection. One while she 
 endeavoured to conceal her face from view, 
 another she repulsed the caresses of her lover, 
 and anon she clung to him as if seeking his 
 protection. 
 
 Do you go to Powheek churchy Sylvia, to- 
 morrow? said the enamoured swain. 
 
 Who preaches there? If Parson Wems 
 preaches, I won't go. He always preaches up 
 matrimony. 
 
 You don't like matrimony, then, Sylvia? 
 
 Not I. There's time enough to be in 
 trouble. I am, however, a friend to the Gos- 
 pel. But, Jemmy, why don't you go to 
 church? Ah! you need not smile! I know you 
 are a Deister! People in your spear of life be 
 all Deisters. 
 
251 
 
 Here the girl looked round at me; but not 
 being disposed for a theological controversy, 
 I again mounted my horse, and no longer in- 
 terrupted their innocent amour. The tempest 
 was over; a beautiful night succeeded; and 
 the moon with unusual lustre lighted me on 
 my way. As I looked towards the silver orb, 
 I exclaimed in the words of the most pathetic 
 of writers, 
 
 For me! pale eye of evening! thy soft light 
 Leads to no happy home! 
 
 But I was waked from my musing by the 
 barking of the dogs at Colchester, and hav- 
 ing crossed the bridge, which is built over the 
 Occoquan, I alighted at the door of Mr. Gor- 
 don's tavern. 
 
 Having ordered supper, I gazed with rap- 
 ture on the Occoquan river, which ran close 
 to the house, and, gradually enlarging, emp- 
 tied itself into the capacious bosom of the 
 Potomac. The fishermen on the shore were 
 bawling their seine, and the sails of a little 
 bark, stemming the waves, were distended by 
 the breeze of night. The sea-boy was lolling 
 over the bow and the helmsman was warbling 
 a song to his absent fair. 
 
 The next day I proceeded to Occoquan; 
 but so steep and craggy was the road, that I 
 found it almost inaccessible. On descending 
 the last hill, I was nearly stunned by the noise 
 
252 
 
 of two huge mills, whose roar, without any 
 hyperbolical aggravation, is scarcely inferior 
 to that of the great falls of the Potomac, or 
 the cataract of Niagara. My horse would not 
 advance; and I was myself lost in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 On crossing a little bridge, I came within 
 view of the Settlement, which is romantic 
 beyond conception. A beautiful river rolls its 
 stream along mountains that rise abruptly 
 from its bank, while on the opposite rocky 
 shore, which appears to have been formed by 
 a volcano, are seen two mills enveloped in 
 foam and here and there a dwelling which has 
 vast masses of stone for its foundation. The 
 eye for some time is arrested by the uncommon 
 scene; but it is soon relieved by a beautiful 
 landscape that bounds the horizon. In a 
 word, all the riches of nature are brought to- 
 gether in this spot, but without confusion. 
 
 Friend Ellicott and his wife received me 
 with an unaffected simplicity of manners, 
 whom I was happy to catch just as they were 
 going to dinner. An exquisite Virginia ham 
 smoked on the board, and two damsels sup- 
 plied the guests with boiled Indian corn, 
 which they had gathered with their own 
 hands. Friend Ellicott, uncorrupted by the 
 refinement of modern manners, had put his 
 hat to its right use, for it covered his head. 
 It was to no purpose that I bent my body, and 
 
253 
 
 made a hundred grimaces. Mordecai would 
 not bow to Haman, nor would Friend Ellicott 
 uncover his head to the Cham of Tartary. 
 
 Our agreement was soon made. Quakers 
 are men of few words. Friend Ellicott en- 
 gaged me to educate his children for a quarter 
 of a year. He wanted them taught reading, 
 writing, and arithmetic. Delightful task! As 
 to Latin, or French, he considered the study 
 of either language an abuse of time ; and very 
 calmly desired me not to say another word 
 about it 
 
254 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 MEMOIR OF MY LIFE 
 
 ON THE BANKS OF THE OCCOQUAN. 
 
 Description of Occoquan Settlement. — Evening at 
 Occoquan, an Ode. — Morning at Occoquan, an 
 Ode. — A Party of Indians visit Occoquan. — 
 Speech of a Warrior. — A War-Dance, and 
 Scene of riotous Intoxication. — A Disquisition 
 of the moral Character of the Indians. — Story 
 of Captain Smith and Pocahontas — The Dispute 
 between Bufon and Jefferson on the Subject of 
 Beards satisfactorily decided. — The Midnight 
 Orgies of the White-Man of America drama- 
 tized, ^c. 
 
 Lo! the moon its lustre lends. 
 Gilding every wood and lawn; 
 And the Miller s heart distends 
 On the banks of Occoquan! 
 
 In the Bull-Run Mountains rises a river, 
 which retains the Indian name of Occoquan, 
 and after a course of sixty miles falls into the 
 Potomac, near the little town of Colchester. 
 In America there are few or no rivers with- 
 out falls; and at those of Occoquan, are 
 erected a couple of mills, which by the easy 
 and safe navigation of the Potomac, the rich- 
 ness of the adjacent country, and the health- 
 fulness of the climate, induced the Proprietor 
 to project the plan of a city, and invite stran- 
 
255 
 
 gers to build on it; but his visions were never 
 realized, and Occoquan consists only of a 
 house built on a rock, three others on the river- 
 side, and half a dozen log-huts scattered at 
 some distance. 
 
 Yet no place can be more romantic than the 
 view of Occoquan to a stranger, after crossing 
 the rustic bridge, which has been constructed 
 by the inhabitants across the stream. He con- 
 templates the river urging its course along 
 mountains that lose themselves among the 
 clouds; he beholds vessels taking on board 
 flour under the foam of the mills, and others 
 deeply laden expanding their sails to the 
 breeze; while every face wears contentment, 
 every gale wafts health, and echo from the 
 rocks multiplies the voices of the waggoners 
 calling to their teams. 
 
 It is pleasant, says Juvenal, to be master of 
 a house, though it stand not on more ground 
 than a lizard would occupy. The school- 
 house at Occoquan was entirely my own. It 
 was a little brick structure, situated about 
 three hundred yards from the house on the 
 rock. The front casements looked upon the 
 Occoquan river, and commanded the varie- 
 gated prospect of hill and dale. 
 
 It is so seldom an author g^ts a house that 
 it should excite no wonder if he loves to de- 
 scribe it. Pliny has described his house so 
 minutely in one of his elaborate epistles, that 
 
256 
 
 he appears to be putting it up for sale; and 
 Pope luxuriates in the strain that treats of his 
 thickets being pierced, his grotto entered, his 
 chariot stopped, and his barge boarded; that 
 posterity may not be ignorant of the extent of 
 his possessions. 
 
 I mingled seldom with the people of Occo- 
 quan, but, shut up in my profound habitation, 
 sought an oblivion of care in writing, reading, 
 and tobacco. Often when the moon-light slept 
 upon the mountain near my dwelling, have I 
 walked before my door, and gazed in silent 
 rapture upon the orb of night, whose beams 
 trembled on the stream that gave motion to the 
 mill; while the tall bark was seen dancing on 
 the waves at a distance, and the mocking-bird 
 in a saddened strain was heard from the 
 woods. It was during one of these nights, that 
 recalling the images of the evening, I com- 
 bined them in an Ode: 
 
 EVENING AT OCCOQUAN. 
 
 AN ODE. 
 
 SLOW the solemn sun descends, 
 Ev'ning's eye comes rolling on ; 
 Glad the weary stranger bends 
 To the Banks of Occoquan! 
 
 Now the cricket on the hearth, 
 Chirping, tells his merry tale; 
 Now the owlet ventures forth 
 Moping to the silent gale. 
 
257 
 
 Still the busy mill goes round, 
 While the miller plies his care; 
 And the rocks send back the sound, 
 Wafted by the midnight* air. 
 
 Lo! the moon with lustre bright, 
 In the stream beholds her face; 
 Shedding glory o'er the night, 
 As she runs her lofty race. 
 
 See ! the bark along the shore, 
 Larger to the prospect grow; 
 While the sea-boy bending o'er 
 Chides the talking waves below. 
 
 Now the mocking-songster's strain 
 Fills the pauses of her brood ; 
 And her plaints the ear detain, 
 Echoing from the distant wood. 
 
 Hanging o'er the mountain's brow, 
 Lo! the cattle herbage find; 
 While in slumber sweet below. 
 Peaceful rests the village hind. 
 
 Now the student seeks his cell, 
 Nor regrets the day is gone; 
 But with silence loves to dwell. 
 On the Banks of Occoquon. 
 
 I was never one of those who sleep well at 
 night. All hours are of equal value, and the 
 tranquillity of the night invites to study. 
 Hence, I have been frequently compelled to 
 change my lodgings where the good woman of 
 
 [*From the author's Errata: 'for midnight r. balmy.'] 
 
the house was in fear that her curtains might 
 catch fire, and set the dwelling in a blaze. 
 
 But the houses in Virginia are not very 
 superb.* The people were never under any 
 solicitude for the habitation I occupied; and 
 had it been burnt to the ground, a few boards 
 and a proportionate number of shingles would 
 soon have constructed another. I never yet 
 occupied a house that was not exempt from 
 taxes ; it was always valued by the tax-gather- 
 ers below a hundred dollars (about 20/. ster- 
 ling), and, by an act of Assembly, for a house 
 not worth a hundred dollars there is no tax 
 to pay. 
 
 From the platform of my house at Occo- 
 quauj there was a subterraneous passage which 
 led to a kind of kitchen. In this underground 
 apartment dwelt Rachel, a negro-woman, who 
 was left a widow with eleven children; but 
 her numerous offspring were all provided for. 
 Mr. Carter, to whom the whole family be- 
 longed, had taken upon him this benevolent 
 office; for he had sold one to Mr. A, an- 
 other to Mr. a third to Mr. C, a fourth 
 
 [* Cf. Isaac Weld, T ravels through the States of North 
 America. 3rd ed. London. 1800, Vol. I, p. 156 — " Though 
 many of the houses in the Northern Neck are built, as I have 
 said, of brick and stone, in the style of the old English manor 
 houses, yet the greater number there, and throughout Virginia, 
 are of wood ; amongst which are all those that have been built 
 of late years. This is chiefly owing to the prevailing, though 
 absurd opinion, that wooden houses are the healthiest."] 
 
259 
 
 to Mr. D, and so on, nearly half round the 
 alphabet. 
 
 The student who values his health will 
 practise study and exercise alternately. After 
 reading a scene in Hamlet, I took a few strides 
 across the room, and amused myself by re- 
 peating a part of his soliloquies. Such, for 
 example, as 
 
 " How weary, flat, stale and unprofitable 
 " Seem to me all the uses of this world ! " 
 
 Rachel, who dwelt underneath, marvelled 
 greatly at the noise. Her penetration made 
 her immediately conclude that I was busied in 
 praying; and in the morning my character was 
 established for religion. " Ah! " said the old 
 woman to her gaping auditors ; " they may 
 
 talk about this parson, or that parson, or the 
 " other parson, but our new coolmossa beats 
 " them all by a heap. Why, 'tis as true as the 
 " mill is now going round that he walks up and 
 " down, and prays the whole night long! " 
 
 Rachel, without carrying about her the 
 mockery of woe, mourned very sensibly her 
 husband. Let my page record the words of 
 her affliction. 
 
 " I was reared at Port Tobacco. A heap of 
 " likely young fellows courted me, but I re- 
 " fused them all for the head coachman of 
 " Counsellor Carter. He was a good hus- 
 " band ; he made me the mother of eleven chil- 
 
26o 
 
 " dren. Woe to i^^c/^e/ when he died. Oh! 
 " how I clap my hands and cry! but he's gone 
 " to the great Jehovah. I shall never forget 
 " it; 'twas at the pulling of corn-time. The 
 " poor creature was a little out of his head. 
 " He asked me if the corn was in tassel. In 
 " tassel, says I ! God help you, you had some 
 " yesterday for dinner. But he changed the 
 " discourse, and he talked of the hymn-book, 
 and Parson Wems, and Poheek church. It 
 "was as good as any sarment! Dear sweet 
 " honey! He was a friend to the gospel; he 
 " loved the Church of England, and nobody 
 " can say they ever saw him go to the Quaker- 
 -meeting. Alack! Alack! My poor husband 
 " died the next morning; I knew his time was 
 "come; the Whip-poor-will cried all night 
 "by the house, and I could not drive him 
 " away. God help us. Die come in every 
 "part of the world; Virginia, Maryland: 
 "black man! white man! all one day or an- 
 " other get their mouth full of yellow clay! " 
 
 Occoquan scarcely supplied more literature 
 than Ovid's place of banishment on the Black 
 Sea. But at Clearmount, near Fauquier 
 Court-house, lived a French gentleman of the 
 name of Gerardine,* whose reputation for the 
 
 [* Cf. Isaac Weld, Travels through the States of North 
 America Vol. I. pp. 175-176.— " Among the inhabitants [of 
 Norfolk, Virginia,] are great numbers of Scotch and French. 
 The latter are almost entirely from the West Indies, and prin- 
 
26 1 
 
 Belles Lettres, induced me to write to him 
 from my solitude. I chose the French lan- 
 guage for the vehicle of my thoughts, and 
 enclosed in the letter the little book of poems 
 I had published at New-York. The answer 
 of Mr. Gerardine discovers an elegant mind. 
 
 " Monsieur, 
 
 " Dans cette Solitude ou les Muses se font 
 si rarement entendre, vous conceverez aise- 
 " ment que I'envoi de vos jolis Poemes a du 
 " exciter a la fois la surprize et le plaisir. Je 
 
 compare votre present inattendu a un joli 
 " parterre dans un Desert inculte et sauvage, 
 " dont I'email se seroit offert continuellement 
 " a ma vue. 
 
 " Continuez, Monsieur, a caresser les Muses 
 " avec Horace and Anacreon; le terns repren- 
 " dra ses ailes, vos heures en couleront plus 
 " doucement, et vous ajouterez de nouvelles 
 " fieurs a la Guirlande Poetique dont vous 
 " etes deja couronnee. Ovide chantoit encore 
 " sur les bords lontaines ou la tyrannic 
 " d'Auguste I'avoit enchaine , et vous avez 
 " celebre Coosohatchie. 
 
 " Je me suis fait un devoir de repondre a 
 " votre Lettre obligeante dans une langue que 
 "vous ecrivez si bien, et que sans I'envoi de ce 
 
 cipally from St. Domingo. Between two and three thousand 
 were in Norfolk at one time; most of them, however, after- 
 wards dispersed themselves throughout different parts of the 
 country."] 
 
262 
 
 " que vous appellez trop modestement vos 
 " Bagatelles, je vous eusse assurement pris 
 " pour un de mes Compatriotes. 
 
 " J'ai I'honneur d'etre, Monsieur, 
 " Votre tres obeissant, tres humble 
 " Serviteur, 
 
 " C. Gerardine." 
 
 It was now I felt the bliss of having an en- 
 lightened friend to whom I could pour out 
 my soul on paper, and enjoy the intercourse of 
 spirit without the mediation of an earthly 
 frame. My friendship with Mr. George was 
 still unimpaired, and I consider it no small 
 felicity that I have been able to preserve so 
 many of his letters amidst the casualties to 
 which the life of a Wanderer is subject. The 
 gloom of my solitude at Occoquan, was 
 cheered by the sincerity of his friendship, and 
 the sprightliness of his wit. 
 
 " An epistle from Ovid among the Geta to 
 " his friend 2it Rome, could not have imparted 
 " half the delight that your letter from Occo- 
 " quart has given the companion of your ad- 
 " versity at New-York. I had long expected 
 " a missive from ' the City in the Woods,' * 
 " and could only ascribe your silence to the 
 " distraction of business in your new ofRce of 
 " Secretary's Secretary; when suddenly is 
 " brought me a letter dated at a place, which, 
 
 * " Washington." 
 
263 
 
 " however acute my researches into the Ge- 
 ography of America, I never heard men- 
 " tioned before. I thank you for the ode you 
 " did me the favour to enclose, it is an happy 
 " imitation of Cunningham's manner; but the 
 " images are more pleasing from having the 
 " grace of novelty to recommend them. Nor 
 " should I neglect to observe, how much you 
 " have shewn your skill in making the word 
 " Occoquan the burden of your exordial and 
 "concluding stanzas; a practice never to be 
 " dispensed with in local poetry, as, without 
 " it, the poem would have no particular appli- 
 " cation, were the title to be lost. 
 
 But it is useless to write anything for 
 " Americans. Taste has not so diffused its 
 " influence through this hemisphere as to 
 " cause the Poet to be cherished; and though 
 " an Orpheus might have power to charm the 
 " woods, yet the inhabitants would be insen- 
 " sible to the harmony of his lyre. In this 
 " region the minuteness of the politician takes 
 " place of the elevation of the poet. 
 
 " Occoquan, from your description of it, 
 " must be a delightful spot, and in prophetic 
 language I would declare, that your abode 
 " on the banks of the river will make the 
 " stream classical in the annals of literary 
 " history. 
 
 " Let us continue, without failure, to write 
 " to each other. It will give life to our friend- 
 
264 
 
 " ship, and soften the rigours of existence. 
 " Whatever we write must partake much of 
 " the spirit of the places in which we live; but 
 " sentiments may arise from solitary reflection, 
 " which the multitudinous (a word you taught 
 " me) uproar of a city would rather suppress 
 " than excite. 
 
 " Is it possible that you live in a family of 
 " Quakers, or that a Quaker should have 
 " selected you from the crowd to bring up his 
 " children in the way they should go? Alas! 
 " you will be writing wicked rhyme when you 
 " should be expounding to them scripture ; and 
 " set before them the vanity of compliments 
 " when they should utter yea and nay! " 
 
 It was my custom every Saturday to ride to 
 Alexandria, where I read the northern papers 
 at the Coffee-room, and at Thomas' ''Book 
 Store," regaled myself with the new publica- 
 tions imported from Philadelphia* But I 
 sought in vain for the advertisement that was 
 to announce the diffusion of the Wanderings 
 of William, and looked forward with solici- 
 tude for the moment that was to reward my 
 labour with emolument, and satisfy my vanity 
 with praise. In this state of suspense I wrote 
 my friend Dufief an elaborate epistle in 
 
 [* " The catalogue of books for sale in this city, [Philadel- 
 phia], contains upwards of 300 sets of Philadelphia editions, 
 besides a greater variety of maps and charts than is to be found 
 any where else in America." 
 
 Dr. Morse's American Gazetteer^ 2nd Ed. 1804.] 
 
265 
 
 French, execrating the honeyed-promises of 
 the great men in power, who had doomed me 
 to the obscurity of Occoquan; and earnestly 
 demanding intelligence of William, who oc- 
 cupied my waking and sleeping thoughts. 
 The lively answer of Dufief will amuse those 
 who understand French; and they who are ig- 
 norant of the language can find some linguist 
 among their friends to interpret it. 
 
 " Mon cher Favori d'Apollon, j'ai ete plus 
 
 fache que surpris d'apprende que vous 
 " aviez fait un demarche inutile. Je ne voyois 
 " rien de moins sur que ce dont vous vous etiez 
 " flatte; et c'etoit la parole du Colonel Albert,^ 
 " qu'il falloit avoir pour etre sur d'une Lieu- 
 "tenance dans son Regiment. . 
 
 Je vous aurois engage amicalement a at- 
 " tendre parmi nous une Lettre, mais etant 
 " pres des Vacances, je n'ai vu dans votre 
 " Voyage qu' un moyen agreable de passer un 
 " tems de desoeuvrement. 
 
 "J'ai pense plus d'une fois a William, tant 
 " pour le lire moi-meme, que pour vous en 
 " vendre, si je puis, beaucoup d'exemplaires. 
 " Chacun a ses tribulations dans ce monde. 
 
 J'ai a present le chagrin de voir que mon 
 " Commerce ne va aucunement: pour y faire 
 
 diversion je me suis jette dans le profon- 
 " deur de la Metaphisique avec Lock et Con- 
 " dillac. . 
 
 [* Secretary Gallatin.] 
 
266 
 
 "Adieu: portez vous bien. Je vous Salue 
 " en Pope & en Shakespear. 
 
 " Votre afifectione, 
 
 " N. G. DUFIEF. 
 
 "Le 5, d'Aout, 1801." 
 
 They who delight in walking, must, during 
 the summer in Virginia, embrace the night to 
 stimulate their muscular energies. The fierce- 
 ness of the sun would suspend the steps of the 
 hardiest Traveller; but amidst the freshness of 
 the night, he breathes only odours in journey- 
 ing through the woods. 
 
 No walk could be more delightful than that 
 from Occoquan to Colchester, when the moon 
 was above the mountains. You traverse the 
 bank of a placid stream over which impend 
 rocks, in some places bare, but more frequently 
 covered with an odoriferous plant that regales 
 the Traveller with its fragrance. 
 
 So serpentine is the course of the river that, 
 the mountains, which rise from its bank, may 
 be said to form an amphitheatre; and nature 
 seems to have designed the spot for the haunt 
 only of fairies ; for here grow flowers of pur- 
 ple dye, and here the snake throws her en- 
 amelled skin. But into what regions, however 
 apparently inaccessible, has not adventurous 
 man penetrated? The awful repose of the 
 night is disturbed by the clack of two huge 
 mills, which drown the song and echoes of the 
 
267 
 
 mocking-bird, who nightly tells his sorrow to 
 the listening moon. 
 
 Art is here pouring fast into the lap of na- 
 ture the luxuries of exotic refinement. After 
 clambering over mountains, almost inacces- 
 sible to human toil, you come to the junction 
 of the Occoquan with the noble river of the 
 Potomac, and behold a bridge whose semi- 
 elliptical arches are scarcely inferior to those 
 of princely London. And on the side of this 
 bridge stands a tavern, where every luxury 
 that money can purchase is to be obtained at a 
 first summons ; where the richest viands cover 
 the table, and where ice cools the Madeira 
 that has been thrice across the ocean.* 
 
 The English bewail the want of convenient 
 taverns in the United States; but the com- 
 plaint is I think groundless ; for I have found 
 taverns in the woods of America, not inferior 
 to those of the common market towns in Eng- 
 land. My description of the tavern at the 
 mouth of the Occoquan partakes of no hyper- 
 bolical amplification; the apartments are 
 numerous and at the same time spacious; car- 
 pets of delicate texture cover the floors; and 
 
 [* Cf. La Rochefoucauld, Travels in North America. Lon- 
 don, 1799, Vol. II, p. 588, — " The war, in which all the com- 
 mercial powers have been engaged for five years more or less, 
 keeps their trade in a state of almost total stagnation. The 
 United States are a kind of temporary depot of the produce of 
 all countries. The commodities over and above the consump- 
 tion of the United States are re-exported."] 
 
268 
 
 glasses are suspended from the walls in which 
 a Goliah might survey himself. 
 
 No man can be more complaisant than the 
 landlord. Enter but his house with money in 
 your pocket, and his features will soften into 
 the blandishments of delight; call and your 
 mandate is obeyed; extend your leg and the 
 boot-jack is brought you. 
 
 Having slept one night at this tavern, I rose 
 with the sun and journeyed leisurely to the 
 mills, catching refreshment from a light air, 
 that stirred the leaves of the trees. The morn- 
 ing was beautiful, and my walk produced a 
 little Ode, which will serve as a counterpart to 
 that I have already inserted. 
 
 MORNING AT OCCOQUAN 
 
 AN ODE 
 
 IN the barn the cock proclaims 
 That the East is streaked with gold ; 
 Strutting round the feather'd dames, 
 Who the light with joy behold. 
 
 Sweet ! oh ! sweet the breath of morn ! 
 Sweet the mocking-songster's strain ; 
 Where the waving stalks of corn 
 Bend beneath the ripen'd grain. 
 
 Lo! the martins now forsake, 
 For a while their tender brood ; 
 And the swallow skims the lake, 
 Each in search of winged food. 
 
269 
 
 See the cottage chimneys smoke, 
 See the distant turrets gleam; 
 Lo ! the farmer to the yoke, 
 Pairs his meek submissive team. 
 
 Here no negro tills the ground. 
 Trembling, weeping, woeful — ^wan; 
 Liberty is ever found. 
 On the banks of Occoquan! 
 
 But not the muses, nor walks, nor the mel- 
 ody of birds, could divert my mind from the 
 publication of my Novel, which had been so 
 long in the press at Philadelphia, 
 
 " Demanding life, impatient for the skies." 
 
 Suspense is ever an uncomfortable state of 
 the mind; and I addressed Dufief in another 
 letter, whose answer calmed my solicitude. 
 
 " A Philadelphie, ce 15, de Septemhre, 
 "1801. 
 
 " Mon cher & ingenieux Romancier, 
 " Monsieur Thompson m'a remis douze Ex- 
 " emplaires du volage William. Si le Public 
 " goute I'ouvrage comme j'ai fait les premi- 
 " eres pages (car mes occupations multipliees 
 " ne m'ont pas encore permis d'en lire davan- 
 " tage) vous pouvez etre assure d'un prompt 
 " debit. 
 
 " Je suis entousiasme de votre francois. 
 " Vous feriez honte en verite a beaucoup de 
 
270 
 
 " nos nationeux qui se piquent cependant de 
 " bien ecrire cette langue.* 
 
 " Faites-moi part de ce qui vous arrivera 
 " d'heureux dans un pays si peu fait pour vos 
 " talens. 
 
 " Adieu. Portez-vous bien, et acceptez les 
 " assurances de mon devouement. 
 
 " N. G. DUFIEF." 
 
 My publisher soon after sent me a dozen 
 copies of my novel, together with a number of 
 the Port Folio, which contained some remarks 
 on the volume. Mr. Dennie, my former pan- 
 egyrist, now wielded his bull-rush against me; 
 but I fear that, only glancing over the con- 
 tents, like the student in Gil Bias, he did not 
 dig deep enough to discover the soul of the 
 Licentiate. — I insert his remarks. 
 
 " The author of Poems written chiefly in 
 " South Carolina, and the translator of Buona- 
 " parte's campaign in Italy, has just published 
 " a novel, entitled the Wanderings of William, 
 " or the Inconstancy of Youth. 
 
 " The author dedicates it to Flavia in a 
 " strain which seems to foretell the complex- 
 " ion of the work. His words are, " Avail 
 
 *This passage of Mr. DuUef's letter alludes to a French 
 Essay, which I had enclosed for his inspection. I cannot 
 resist the impulse of subjoining it. And I subjoin it without 
 deprecating the strictures of criticism. The prayers of an 
 author to his reader never yet averted his destiny ; if his writ- 
 
271 
 
 " yourself of the moment that offers to indulge 
 " in the perusal of this book. Take it, read it, 
 
 there is nothing to fear. Your Governess is 
 " gone out, and your Mamma is not yet risen. 
 
 Do you hesitate? Werter has been under 
 
 ings be bad, no supplications, however moving, will preserve 
 them from contempt. I think it is Despreaux, who says, 
 
 Un auteur a genoux, dans une humble preface, 
 Au lecteur qu'il ennuye a beau demander grace. 
 
 I have never been in France. I therefore enjoy a particular 
 advantage; for my style, formed only upon writers, can be 
 infected with no colloquial barbarisms. 
 
 Sejour dans les Bois de la Caroline du Sud. 
 
 Sur la route de Charleston a Savannah, et presque a moitie 
 chemin, se trouve un petit village qu'on appelle Coosohatchie. 
 Ce fut a cinq milles de cet endroit que je passai I'hiver de 
 1798, et la plus grande partie du printemps de I'anne suivante. 
 
 Ma demeure etoit chez un Planteur qui m'avoit propose 
 I'education de ses enfans. Je m'accoutumai peu-a-peu a mon 
 esclavage. Tout alloit a merveille. J'etudois I'esprit de mes 
 eleves, et je reussissois aupres d'eux. J'en avois trois, dont 
 deux etoient filles. La cadette, qui pouvoit bien avoir neuf 
 ou dix ans, etoit d'une vivacite charmante. Son sourire ex- 
 primoit d'avance ce qu'elle alloit vous dire. Ses beaux yeux 
 bleus peignoient toujours la situation de son coeur. C'etoit 
 un charmant enfant, dont la beaute naissante promettoit 
 d'egaler celle de sa mere. Sa soeur plus agee de cinq ans, 
 quoique moins jolie, avoit ce qui peut faire valoir la beaute. 
 Elle etoitdouce, aimable, sans etourderie. A I'egard de Mon- 
 sieur le frere, c'etoit un garcon tres-interessant; I'esprit ouvert, 
 vif & joyeux. Je voulus m'attacher a ce petit bon-homme, le 
 former, travailler a son education, mais sans me donner un 
 air imposant, un ceil severe, ou une voix rude & menacante 
 pour me faire redouter. 
 
 Mon eleve aimoit la chasse en vrai Americain. Je me sou- 
 viendrai des battemens de coeur qu'il eprouvoit au vol des 
 premiers canards, & des transports de joie avec lesquels il 
 tuoit un cerf dans les bois. Seul avec son chien, charge de 
 
272 
 
 " your pillow, and the Monk * has lain on 
 " your toilet. 
 
 " It was our design at first to have abridged 
 " the story of the Work ; but the inutility of 
 " the task overcame our benevolence; for the 
 
 son fusil, de son fourniment, de sa petite proie, il revenoit 
 le soir aussi heureux qu'il soit possible de I'etre. 
 
 Pendant que mon el eve s'amusoit a la chasse, je me livrois 
 aux objets purs & simples de la Nature. Avec quel trans- 
 port je suis alle dans les bois d'alentour chercher la premiere 
 violette, & epier le premier bourgeon. Que le chant de I'Oiseau 
 Moqueur me faisoit tressaillir d'aise ! Je prolongeois ainsi ma 
 promenade, sans m'appercevoir que la nuit regnoit deja depuis 
 long temps. II est si doux de se trouver seul dans des lieux 
 peu frequentes, & de s'abandonner a ses reveries ! 
 
 Voici un souvenir bien distinct qui me reste d'une de mes 
 promenades solitaires. Apres un doux sommeil je me levai 
 avec I'etoile du matin, qui conduisit mes pas vers Savannah, 
 Le chant du coq se faisoit entendre, & les travaux des negres 
 recommencoient dans les plantations voisines. Le charmant 
 plaisir que celui de respirer la f raiche haleine du matin ! Avec 
 quelle douce emotion je voyois les premiers rayons de I'aurore 
 percer le crepuscule, tandis que mes pieds chassoient devant 
 eux la rosee qui baignoit le gazon. Je marchois legerement 
 dans ma route, anime par le spectacle enchanteur du lever du 
 soleil, qui repandoit sur ma promenade un attrait delicieux. 
 Je marchai dix milles pour le moins sans trouver d'autre 
 batiment que les ruines d'une eglise, mais vers midi je m'arretai 
 devant la porte d'une maison isolee, ou le joli son d'un violon 
 m'enchanta les oreilles. Je fus recu a merveille du maitre du 
 logis, qui me fit entrer dans une chambre ou il y avoit trois 
 demoiselles, elegamment mises, dansant au son de instrument 
 dont jouoit M. leur Maitre de danse. Ces jeunes personnes 
 s'arreterent un moment pour me faire une reverence, and 
 recommencerent encore leur danse avec une grace inexpri- 
 mable. Elles etoient toutes trois pleines de charmes, mais la 
 plus jeune etoit si jolie! elle mettoit tant de graces dans sa 
 
 [* Matthew Gregory Lewis's very successful novel Ambrosia 
 or the Monk. 4th ed. London, 1798. 3 vols.] 
 
273 
 
 " author sacrifices reflection to mirth; and his 
 " page, however it may be read with interest, 
 " will not be remembered with advantage." 
 
 On the north bank of the Occoquan is a pile 
 of stones, which indicate that an Indian war- 
 
 danse & Hans ses gestes, en tournoyant & en sautant legere- 
 ment tantot sur un pied, & tantot sur I'autre! je fus stupefait 
 d'admiration. Je la considerai dans un ravissement de coeur. 
 De grands yeux noirs, un nez tant soit peu retrousse, une 
 bouche mignonne, des levres fraiches & vermeilles, une taille 
 leste & svelte, une jambe faite au tour, le bras, la main, le 
 pied monies par les Graces, formoient I'assemblage le plus 
 parfait qu'on puisse concevoir. Constance alloit compter 
 quinze ans, & deja la nature lui avoit fait part de ces boutons 
 charmans que I'hymen seul a le droit de cueillir. Son petit 
 corset, qui les receloit avec peine, garantissoit ce tresor nais- 
 sant de toute profanation. L'ensemble de cette jeune fille 
 me fit souvenir de quelques vers de Boursaut. 
 
 Elle a hien quatorse ou quinze ans, 
 
 Fiere, mais sans etre farouche. 
 
 Les cheveux blonds, les yeux percans, 
 
 Une gorge naissante, & surtout une bouche! 
 
 J'appercus avec plaisir que mon bote etoit francois, & que 
 ces jeunes personnes etoient ses trois filles. Constance ne 
 parloit que francois ; son accent seul eut suffit pour me 
 tourner la tete. La danse se prolongea jusqu'a une heure, 
 lorsque M. le maitre de danse prit conge de ses douces eleves 
 avec un ah ! ca, Mesdesmoiselles ! au plaisir ! monta a cheval, 
 & partit au petit galop. Me voila done libre d'entretenir trois 
 belles demoiselles en mauvais francois, & parlant a peu pres 
 comme le beau Leandre. L'ainee de ces trois soeurs etoit une 
 fille faite, dont I'embonpoint donnoit dans la vue, & dont les 
 grands yeux noirs sembloient aller a la petite guerre. Sa 
 figure reunissoit ce que les brunes ont de plus piquants, & les 
 blondes de plus voluptueux. Le bon diner que je fis avec M. 
 Rencontre et ses charmantes filles ! Je m'assis en^re Con- 
 stance & la soeur dont je n'ai pas encore parle. C'etoit une 
 blonde aux yeux bleus, extremement timide, qui rougissoit 
 aux moindres louanges qu'on lui donnoit. Mais ce qui m'in- 
 
274 
 
 rior is interred underneath. The Indians 
 from the back settlements, in travelling to the 
 northward, never fail to leave the main road, 
 and visit the grave of their departed hero. If 
 a stone be thrown down, they religiously re- 
 
 teressa davantage fut qu'elle avoit une tournure tout-a-fait 
 francoise. 
 
 Qu'on juge du regret avec lequel je quittai la famille de 
 Monsieur Rencontre. Que nos adieux furent touchants ! Les 
 yeux de Constance rencontrerent les miens en partant avec une 
 expression qui redoubla I'agitation de mon coeur. 
 
 She gas'd as I slowly withdrew, 
 My path I could scarcely discern; 
 So sweetly she hade me adieu, 
 I thought that she bade me return! 
 
 Qu'on nie I'existence de cette douce sympathie qui agit sur 
 deux persones sensible, faits I'un pour I'autre, & qui se ren- 
 contrent pour la premiere fois. Ce n'est pas pour de tels 
 lecteurs que je prends la plume. 
 
 Revenons a mes occupations. Depuis le jour ou j'arrivai 
 chez M. D. — jusqu'au retour du printemmpts, je passai tou- 
 jours la soiree & une partie de la matinee soit a lire ou a ecrire 
 devant un bon feu dans ma chambre. Je commencois par 
 quelque livre Latin, comme Horace, Virgile, Ovide ; & finissois 
 par les Confessions de I'eloquent Citoyen de Geneve. Un 
 des plus grands ecrivains du dix-huitieme siecle fut assure- 
 ment M. Rousseau. Que ses recits sont touchants quand il 
 parle de ses cheres Charmettes, de ses bosquets, de ses ruis- 
 seaux. On est toujours present a chaque scene dont il fait le 
 tableau. Que le caractere de Maman est peint d'apres Nature. 
 II met tout ce qu'il raconte sous les yeux du lecteur. On ne 
 croit plus lire, on croit voir. Le gout que je pris a la lecture 
 des Confessions m'inspira le desir d'ecrire en francois; dont 
 les qualites distinctives sont la clarte & la precision. Je ne 
 sai si j'y ai reussi. 
 
 Que ma vie eut etc heureuse au sein de cette famille, si 
 j'avois su en jouir. Mais il me restoit encore une humeur 
 un peu volage, un desir de voyager & de parcourir le monde. 
 Enfin degoute de ma vie, & plein des plus beaux pro jets 
 
275 
 
 store it to the pile, and, sitting round the rude 
 monument they meditate profoundly; catch- 
 ing, perhaps, a local emotion from the place. 
 
 A party of Indians, while I was at Occo- 
 quan, turned from the common road into the 
 woods, to visit this grave on the bank of the 
 river. 
 
 The party was composed of an elderly 
 Chief, twelve young War Captains, and a 
 couple of Squaws. Of the women, the young- 
 est was an interesting girl of seventeen; re- 
 markably well shaped, and possessed of a pro- 
 fusion of hair, which in colour was raven black. 
 She appeared such another object as the mind 
 images Pocahontas to have been. The people 
 of Occoquan, with more curiosity than breed- 
 ing, assembled round the party; but they ap- 
 peared to be wholly indifferent to their gaze; 
 the men amused themselves by chopping the 
 ground with their tomahawks, and the women 
 
 pour Tavenir, je partis de la Caroline du Sud vivement emu 
 des larmes de mes eleves que je quittois pour tou jours. 
 
 Coosohatchie adieu ! O demeure tranquille, chambre ou j'ai 
 tant ecrit, planchers que j'ai tant arroses de mes pleurs, je 
 vous salue! Je vous quitte, calme retraite, ou j'ai vecu loin 
 du tumulte & du bruit. Restez tou jours ouverte au voyageur 
 egare; recevez-le; qu'il trouve sous votre toit un abri contra 
 la persecution, & que ce Monument que je vous ai erige dans 
 une langue etrangere, fasse connoitre a son coeur attendri que 
 vous futes habitee par un infortune. 
 
 [" Je laisse toutes ces choses de la jeunesse: on voudra bien 
 les pardonner." — note of Chateubriand's in the second edi- 
 tion of his Travels in America. John Davis omitted his 
 French essay from the later edition of his book.] 
 
276 
 
 were busied in making a garment for the 
 Chief. 
 
 Among the whites was a young man of gi- 
 gantic stature ; he was, perhaps, a head taller 
 than any of the rest of the company. The old 
 Indian could not but remark the lofty stature 
 of the man; he seemed to eye him involunta- 
 rily; and, at length, rising from the ground, he 
 went up to the giant stranger, and shook him 
 by the hand. This raised a loud laugh from 
 all the lookers-on; but the Indians still main- 
 tained an inflexible gravity. 
 
 When I saw the squaws a second time, they 
 were just come from their toilet. Woman 
 throughout the world delights ever in finery; 
 the great art is to suit the colours to the com- 
 plexion. 
 
 The youngest girl would have attracted 
 notice in any circle of Europe. She had fast- 
 ened to her long hair a profusion of ribbons, 
 which the bounty of the people of Occoquan 
 had heaped upon her; and, the tresses of this 
 Indian beauty, which before had been con- 
 fined round her head, now rioted luxuriantly 
 down her shoulders and back. The adjust- 
 ment of her dress one would have thought she 
 had learned from some English female of 
 fashion ; for she had left it so open before, that 
 the most inattentive eye could not but discover 
 the rise and fall of a bosom just beginning to 
 fill. The covering of this young woman's feet 
 
277 
 
 rivetted the eye of the stranger with its nov- 
 elty and splendour. Nothing could be more 
 delicate than her mocasins. They were each 
 of them formed of a single piece of leather, 
 having the seams ornamented with beads and 
 porcupine quills; while a string of scarlet rib- 
 bon confined the mocasin round the instep, 
 and made every other part of it sit close to the 
 foot. The mocassin was of a bright yellow, 
 and made from the skin of a deer, which had 
 been killed by the arrow of one of the Indian 
 youths. Let me be pardoned for having 
 spoken of this lady's foot, with such minute- 
 ness of investigation. A naturalist will devote 
 a whole chapter to the examination of a bird, 
 count the feathers in its wings, and declaim 
 with the highest rapture on its variegated 
 plumage, and a Traveller may surely be for- 
 given a few remarks on the seducing foot of 
 a.n Indian beauty. Utrum horum mavis accipe! 
 
 Of these Indians, the men had not been inat- 
 tentive to their persons. The old Chief had 
 clad himself in a robe of furs, and the young 
 warriors had blackened their bodies with 
 charcoal. 
 
 The Indians being assembled round the 
 grave, the old Chief rose with a solemn mien, 
 and knocking his war-club against the ground, 
 pronounced an oration to the memory of the 
 departed warrior. 
 
 " Here rests the body of a Chief of our 
 
278 
 
 " nation, who, before his spirit took its flight 
 " to the country of souls, was the boldest in 
 " war, and the fleetest in the chace. The arm 
 " that is now mouldering beneath this pile, 
 " could once wield the tomahawk with vigour 
 " and often caused the foe to sink beneath its 
 " weight. {A dreadful cry of Whoo! Whoo! 
 " Whoop! from the hearers.) It has often 
 " grasped the head of the expiring enemy, and 
 " often with the knife divested it of the scalp 
 " (a yell of whoo! whoo! whoop!) It has 
 " often bound to the stake the prisoner of war, 
 " and piled the blazing faggots round the vic- 
 " tim, singing his last song of death. (A yell 
 " of whoo! whoop!) The foot that is now mo- 
 " tionless was once fleeter than the hart which 
 " grazes on the mountain ; and in danger it 
 " was ever more ready to advance than retreat. 
 " (A cry of whoo! whoo! whoop!) But the 
 " hero- is not gone unprovided to the country 
 " of spirits. His tomahawk was buried with 
 " him to repulse the enemy in the field; and 
 " his bow to pierce the deer that flies through 
 " the woods." 
 
 No orator of antiquity ever exceeded this 
 savage chief in the force of his emphasis, and 
 the propriety of his gesture. Indeed, the 
 whole scene was highly dignified. The fierce- 
 ness of his countenance, the flowing robe, ele- 
 vated tone, naked arm, and erect stature, with 
 a circle of auditors seated on the ground, and 
 
279 
 
 in the open air, could not but impress upon the 
 mind a lively idea of the celebrated speakers 
 of ancient Greece and Rome.^ 
 
 Having ended his oration, the Indian 
 struck his war-club with fury against the 
 ground, and the whole party obeyed the signal 
 by joining in a war-dance; — leaping and 
 brandishing their knives at the throats of each 
 other, and accompanying their menacing atti- 
 tudes with a whoop and a yell, which echoed 
 with ten-fold horror from the banks of the 
 river. 
 
 The dance took place by moonlight, and 
 it was scarcely finished when the Chief pro- 
 duced a keg of whiskey, and having taken a 
 draught, passed it round among his brethren. 
 The squaws now moved the tomahawks into 
 the woods, and a scene of riot ensued. The 
 keg was soon emptied. The effects of the 
 liquor began to display itself in the looks and 
 motions of the Indians. Some rolled their 
 eyes with distraction; others could not keep 
 on their legs. At length, succeeded the most 
 dismal noises. Such hoops, such shouts, such 
 roaring, such yells, all the devils of hell 
 seemed collected together. Each strove to 
 do an outrage on the other. This seized the 
 other by the throat; that kicked with raging 
 fury at his adversary. And to complete the 
 scene, the old warrior was uttering the most 
 
 [* Cf. Jefferson's Notes. 3rd Am. ed. (1801), p. 94.] 
 
28o 
 
 mournful lamentations over the keg he had 
 emptied; inhaling its flavour with his lips, 
 holding it out v^ith his hands in a supplicating 
 attitude, and vociferating to the bye-standers 
 Scuttawawbah! Scuttawawbah! More strong 
 drink! More strong drink! 
 
 A disquisition of Indian manners cannot but 
 be interesting to a speculative mind. The dis- 
 covery of America, independent of every other 
 circumstance, is of vast importance to man- 
 kind, from the light it has enabled us to throw 
 upon man in his savage state;* and the oppor- 
 tunity it has afforded us to study him in his first 
 degrees of civilization. It has even been ad- 
 vanced that before the discovery of the west- 
 ern continent, the natural history of the human 
 species was very imperfect. The ancient phi- 
 losophers had no other resources but to study 
 the characters of the Scythians and Germans; 
 but in the Indians of America a much wider 
 field is opened to investigation. The moral 
 character of the Scythians and Germans was 
 
 [* Cf. Philip Freneau, Introduction to the Abbe Robin's New 
 Travels through North America, Philadelphia, 1783. — " Most 
 of those accounts of North America, given to the public by 
 British explorators and others, previous to the Revolution, are 
 generally taken up with the recital of wonderful adventures, 
 in the woods beyond the Lakes, or with the Histories and re- 
 cords of the wild Indian nations, so that by the time the reader 
 gets through one of those performances he never fails to be bet- 
 ter acquainted with the Ottagamies . . than with the most 
 interesting particulars relative to the inhabitants of the then 
 colonies."] 
 
28l 
 
 brutish insensibility; the moral character of 
 the American Indians discovers little of that 
 quality. 
 
 The Indians dwell in wigwams, which are 
 formed of mats or bark, tied about poles, that 
 are fastened in the earth; and a hole is made 
 at the top to let out the smoke. Their prin- 
 cipal diet is Nokehick; parched meal diluted 
 with water; but, where the woods invite 
 hunting, they kill, and devour the deer, 
 the bear, the moose and racoon. Their meat 
 and fish they do not preserve by salting but 
 drying. 
 
 Every man is his own physician ; but in dan- 
 gerous cases the patient requires the co-opera- 
 tion of a priest. There is but one mode of 
 cure for all disorders. The sick man descends 
 into a heated cave, or sweating-room; from 
 whence, after having evacuated much of the 
 morbid matter through the pores, the patient 
 is dragged to the river and plunged over head 
 and ears. Should the case be desperate, a 
 Poivaw or Priest is summoned, who roars and 
 howls till the patient either recovers, or his 
 pulse ceases to beat. 
 
 They cross rivers in canoes, which are con- 
 structed sometimes of trees, which they burn 
 and hew, till they have hollowed them: and 
 sometimes of bark, which they can carry over- 
 land. It will be readily credited that their 
 astonishment was very great on first beholding 
 
282 
 
 a ship. They were, says a pious colonist, 
 scared out of their wits, to see the monster 
 come sailing into their harbour, and spitting 
 fire with a mighty noise out of her floating 
 sides. 
 
 The men in domestic life are exceedingly 
 slothful. The women perform all the house- 
 hold drudgery; they build the wigwams, and 
 beat the corn. The active employment[s] of 
 the men are war and hunting. 
 
 The division of their time is by sleeps, 
 moons, and winters. Indeed, by lodging 
 abroad, they have become familiar with the 
 motions of the stars ; and it is remarkable that 
 they have called Charles Wain, Paukunna- 
 waw, or the Bear; the name by which it is 
 also known to the astronomers of Europe. 
 
 Of the first settlers in Virginia, the most 
 distinguished character was Captain Smith, 
 a man who seemed to inherit every quality 
 of a hero; a man of such bravery and con- 
 duct, that his actions would confer dignity 
 on the page of the historian. With the life of 
 this gallant colonist, the reader is admitted to 
 so much knowledge of Indian manners, that 
 this appears a very proper place to take a 
 view of his adventures. But I have yet a 
 stronger motive. With the history of Captain 
 Smith is interwoven the story of Pocahontas, 
 whose soft simplicity and innocence cannot 
 but hold captive every mind; and this part of 
 
283 
 
 my volume, many of my fair readers will, I am 
 persuaded, hug with the tenderest emotion to 
 their bosoms. 
 
 It was on the 26th of April, 1606,* that the 
 ship in which Captain Smith had embarked, 
 came within sight of the American coast; and 
 it had by accident got into the mouth of that 
 bay, which is now so well known by the name 
 of Chesapeak. 
 
 This bay is the largest in the world. The 
 distance between its Capes is about twelve 
 miles, but it widens, when entered, till it be- 
 comes thirty miles in breadth; when it dimin- 
 ishes again to its head, and is generally from 
 fifteen to five miles over. It is five miles 
 broad at its extremity, where the Elk and 
 Susquehannah fall into it; and here its length 
 from the sea is three hundred miles, through 
 the whole of which vast extent the tide ebbs 
 and flows. 
 
 This mighty bay receives the streams of 
 four large rivers from the west, all of which 
 are navigable, and have their source in the 
 same mountains. 
 
 Of these the southernmost is James river, 
 called Powhatan by the natives ; the next York 
 river, named by the Indians Pamunkey; the 
 third the Rappahanock, which preserves its 
 aboriginal title; and the northernmost the 
 
 [* " The six and twentieth day of Aprill (1607), about foure 
 a clocke in the morning, wee descried the Land of Virginia."] 
 
284 
 
 Potomac which also flows under its first name 
 through countries of vast extent. 
 
 The land which the colonists had come 
 within sight of, was uncommonly low. It 
 appeared at a distance like the tops of trees 
 emerging above the water ; * and as the ship 
 approached the coast, there was not the small- 
 est acclivity visible; the prospect never rising 
 above the height of the pines that everlast- 
 ingly covered the soil. 
 
 Of the promontories of the bay, they named 
 the southernmost Cape Henry, and the north- 
 ernmost Cape Charles, in compliment to the 
 sons of their reigning Monarch; and, having 
 got their ship into a harbour, they chose for 
 the place of their settlement a peninsula on 
 the north side of the river Powhatan, to which 
 they very consistently gave the name of 
 Jamestown. 
 
 It is only in active life that men can esti- 
 mate their qualities, for it is impossible to 
 answer for that courage which has never en- 
 countered danger, or that fortitude which has 
 never had any evils to support. The situa- 
 tion of the Colonists was now the touchstone 
 of their moral character, for they were en- 
 compassed on every side with imminent 
 calamities. A scanty supply of provisions, and 
 the uncertainty of recruiting them, in a coun- 
 try where every imagination was filled with 
 
 [* Cf. Smyth, Tour in the United States of America, p. 7.] 
 
285 
 
 the barbarity of the natives, disquieted the 
 breasts of those whose nerves were not firm. 
 
 In this situation of affairs, there was want- 
 ing a support for the infant colony, and Cap- 
 tain Smith was elected Ruler by unanimous 
 consent. The conduct of Smith justified the 
 wisdom of their choice. By his judgment, 
 courage, and industry, he saved the new es- 
 tablishment; for by his judgment he discov- 
 ered and defeated the schemes devised by the 
 Indians for its destruction; by his courage 
 he became their terror ; and by descending to 
 manual labour, his example produced a spirit 
 of patient toil among his companions. 
 
 One of the tributary streams to the river 
 Powhatan, is that of Chickahominy, which 
 descended about four miles above the infant 
 settlement. It was an object with the Colony 
 to discover its source; but the dread of an 
 ambush from the Indians deterred the major- 
 ity from the undertaking. Smith, ever de- 
 lighting in enterprise, gallantly undertook 
 himself to discover the head of the river; 
 having found six others who were willing to 
 become the partners of his danger. Having 
 with much labour cleared a passage for his 
 barge, by felling the trees on the borders of 
 the river, he reached a broad bay, the middle 
 of which was beyond the reach of an arrow 
 from either side. Here he moored the barge, 
 and accompanied by two of his men, Robin- 
 
286 
 
 son and Emry, proceeded up the river in a 
 canoe; strictly enjoining the people left in 
 the barge not to land on any condition. But 
 no sooner had Smith departed, than the crew 
 gratified the impulse they felt to land; and 
 were received by a discharge of arrows from 
 an ambush of Indians under the command of 
 Opechancanough, a subtle and savage bar- 
 barian, who had vigilantly watched their mo- 
 tions. Each man now sought safety in flying 
 to the water side, and swimming off to the 
 boat; but one George Cassen, who could not 
 swim, was overtaken by the Indians, who hav- 
 ing extorted from him the way his Captain 
 had gone, scalped him upon the spot, and 
 then went in pursuit of Smith. 
 
 Captain Smith had gone about twenty miles 
 up the river, and had discovered its source 
 amongst swamps and marshes. Here he left 
 the canoe to the care of Robinson and Emry, 
 and penetrated the woods with his gun, in 
 search of provisions. In the mean time 
 Opechancanough was not backward in the 
 pursuit. He traced the course which Smith 
 had taken, and came upon the canoe, in which 
 he found the two men, overcome with fatigue, 
 fast asleep in the boat. These they dispatched 
 with their war-clubs, and scalping them in 
 haste, prosecuted their search after Smith. 
 It was not long before the gallant adventurer 
 found himself beset by these barbarians; but 
 
287 
 
 the imminent danger to which he was exposed, 
 only animated him to more heroism, and he 
 determined to die with a resistance worthy 
 his former reputation for courage. So warmly 
 did he receive the attack of his savage enemies 
 with his musquet, that he laid six of them 
 dead on the spot, and wounded several others. 
 A panic seized the whole; none dared ad- 
 vance; and Smith keeping the Indians thus 
 at bay, endeavoured to gain his canoe. But 
 unacquainted with the nature of the soil, he, 
 in his retreat, got into a morass, from which 
 finding it was impossible to extricate himself, 
 he threw away his arms, and made signs that 
 he had surrendered. 
 
 When Smith was dragged from the morass, 
 he asked for the Chief of the party, and being 
 shewn Opechancanough, he presented him 
 with a round ivory double compass dial, which 
 our adventurer had taken with him to deter- 
 mine the course of the river. The savage 
 was astonished at the playing of the fly and 
 needle, which he could see so plainly, and 
 yet not touch, because of the glass that cov- 
 ered them. But when Smith explained by 
 it the roundness of the earth, the skies, the 
 sphere of the sun, moon and stars, with other 
 doctrines unknown to them, the whole party 
 greatly marvelled. 
 
 For some time the compass excited the 
 wonder of the Indians, but it subsided with 
 
288 
 
 its novelty; and there appeared to be a pro- 
 found consultation among these barbarians re- 
 specting the manner in which they should 
 dispose of their prisoner. After much vehe- 
 ment debate, they tied him up to a tree, and 
 assembled in order to shoot him; but just as 
 an archer was drawing his bow-string, Ope- 
 chancanough held up the compass, and with 
 the same smile of fondness that a child be- 
 stows on his rattle, suspended by his command 
 the arm of the executioner. 
 
 Opechancanough was a person of distinc- 
 tion. He was brother to Powhatan, a power- 
 ful king of Pamunkey, whose will was a law 
 among his numerous subjects. To Powhatan 
 he had formed the resolution of delivering 
 his prisoner, but first he wished to lead him 
 in show and triumph about the country. For 
 this purpose they bent their course again for 
 Orapakes, lying on the upper part of Chicka- 
 hominy swamp, from whence they had come. 
 The Indians, in their march, drew themselves 
 up in a file, and Opechancanough walked in 
 the centre, having the English swords and 
 musquets carried before him. Smith followed 
 the Chief, led by a couple of Indians, holding 
 him fast by each arm ; and on either side went 
 six in file, with their arrows cautiously 
 notched. 
 
 When the Indians had arrived within hear- 
 ing of the town, they set up different cries to 
 
289 
 
 give their countrymen notice of the event of 
 their expedition. They uttered six dismal 
 yells to announce that six of their party had 
 been slain; and sent forth one war-hoop, to 
 proclaim that they had brought home a pris- 
 oner; 
 
 The yell of these Indians resembled the 
 sound of Whoo, whoo, whoop, which was 
 continued in a long shrill tone till their breath 
 was exhausted, when they suddenly paused 
 with a horrid shout. The war-hoop was a 
 cry yet louder, which they modulated into 
 notes, by placing the hand before the mouth. 
 They could be both very distinctly heard at 
 a considerable distance. 
 
 It was evening when the Indians approached 
 the town of Orapakes with their prisoner. 
 The moon was walking in brightness, the 
 firefly was on the wing, and the melancholy 
 note of the Muckawiss * was heard from the 
 woods. 
 
 The whole village came out to learn the 
 particulars of what they had only heard in 
 general terms; and now a widow was to be 
 seen mourning her husband, a mistress bewail- 
 ing her lover, and children crying for their 
 fathers. 
 
 But unspeakable was the astonishment of 
 the women and children on beholding the 
 prisoner, who was so unlike any human being 
 
 * Whip-poor-will. 
 
290 
 
 they had ever before seen. They gazed with 
 speechless wonder at him; some clasping their 
 hands in dumb admiration; some contrasting 
 the redness of their own colour with the white- 
 ness of his ; and others unbuttoning his clothes 
 and buttoning them again with a loud laugh. 
 
 The men, however, betrayed, or affected 
 to betray, no emotions of surprise. The old 
 people sat with stoical composure in separate 
 circles on the ground, smoking their calumets 
 by moonlight, and conversing with profound 
 gravity; while the young fellows pursued the 
 exercises that engaged them, shooting arrows 
 at a mark, throwing the hatchet, wrestling, 
 and running. All the domestic drudgery de- 
 volved on the women. Of these some were 
 busied in splitting wood, some bearing logs 
 from the forest, and some kindling fires. 
 
 When the wonder produced among the 
 women by the novelty of Smith's appearance 
 subsided, they all joined in a yo-hah, or huzza, 
 which was not deficient in harmony. An 
 elder then rose and harangued the female mul- 
 titude. The object of his speech was to enjoin 
 them to satiate their revenge on the back of 
 the prisoner, who was sentenced to run the 
 gauntlet, for the War Captains whom he had 
 slain. The women then provided themselves 
 with twigs, and having drawn themselves up 
 in two lines, Smith was stripped, and com- 
 pelled to run the gauntlet through the crowd. 
 
291 
 
 Cruelty was succeeded by kindness. A re- 
 past of Indian corn was placed before him, 
 on which having fed, half a dozen of the 
 prettiest squaws in the village, who had 
 washed and adorned themselves with much 
 coquetry, were presented to the stranger, for 
 him to select a mistress. But Smith, whose 
 back still smarted under the lashes they had 
 so prodigally bestowed upon him, felt very 
 little disposed for dalliance; and he turned 
 away unmoved by their seducing attitudes. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that the slumbers of 
 Smith were very soft; but, however he might 
 have been inclined to sleep, the horrid noises 
 that prevailed through the night in the village 
 would have rendered it impracticable; for the 
 relations of those whom he had slain never 
 remitted their yells; but when one was ex- 
 hausted, another prolonged the clamour. 
 
 Smith passed the night in the wigwam of 
 Opechancanough, and here he was witness to 
 the mode of carrying on an Indian intrigue. 
 When Opechancanough and his family were 
 snoring on the ground, a young Indian stole 
 softly through the door, walking on his hands 
 and feet, somewhat after the manner of a bear. 
 Smith, who was not ignorant of the implacable 
 resentment of the Indian character, was led 
 to suppose it was some assassin coming to re- 
 venge the death of a relation, and seizing a 
 tomahawk which lay on the ground, he pre- 
 
292 
 
 pared to resist the murderer; but he soon dis- 
 covered that a softer passion than revenge 
 stimulated this nocturnal visitor. The Indian 
 gently approached the embers of the fire 
 v^hich was not quite extinguished, and, light- 
 ing a splinter of wood, advanced with great 
 caution towards a young squaw, who was re- 
 posing in the wigwam; he then uncovered 
 her head, and jogged her till she waked, or 
 pretended to wake. The nymph rising up, 
 the lover held to her the light, which he had 
 carefully concealed in the hollow of his hand; 
 and which she immediately blew out. This 
 act inflamed the respectful lover to boldness; 
 for it discovered that the heart of his mistress 
 was not cruel. 
 
 Smith passed the night in a conflict of hope 
 and fear; but the next morning, while his 
 mind was still filled with the horrors of an 
 imaginary death, he was on the brink of ex- 
 periencing a real one. An Indian Chief, 
 whose son during the night had been seized 
 with a delirious fever, hid himself behind a 
 tree, and when Smith approached it, convers- 
 ing with Opechancanough, threw a hatchet 
 at his head, which underwent a rotary motion 
 as it flew through the air, and had not Smith 
 stooped providentially at the moment to 
 gather a flower, his soul had certainly been 
 dispatched to the region of ghosts. The 
 superstition of the savage had ascribed his 
 
293 
 
 son's disorder to the sorcery of the prisoner; 
 whom the Indians conducted to the raving 
 man, imploring he would recover him. 
 Smith, having examined the fellow, assumed 
 a profound look, and informed the by- 
 standers, that he had a water at James-town, 
 which, in such a disorder, never failed to 
 produce a cure; but Opechancanough had 
 more cunning than to allow him to go and 
 fetch it. 
 
 Smith found the Indians at Orapakes mak- 
 ing the greatest preparations for an assault 
 upon James-town. To facilitate their de- 
 signs, they desired Smith's advice and assist- 
 ance; holding out to him the alluring rewards 
 of life, and liberty, and lands, and women. 
 But he represented to them the danger of the 
 attempt with such hyperbolical amplification ; 
 and described the springing of mines, great 
 guns, and other warlike engines, with such 
 an aggrandizement of horror, that the hearers 
 were exceedingly terrified and amazed. And 
 then he persuaded some of them to go to 
 James-town, under the pretence of obtaining 
 toys; and in the leaf of a table-book he ap- 
 prized the Colonists of the warlike prepara- 
 tions of the beseigers, directing them to 
 affright the messengers with the explosion of 
 bombs, and not to fail sending the things that 
 he wrote for. Within three days the messen- 
 gers returned, greatly astonished themselves, 
 
294 
 
 and filling the hearers with astonishment, at 
 the dreadful explosions they had witnessed; 
 nor less wondering how the prisoner could 
 divine, or make the paper speak; for all things 
 were delivered to them as he had solemnly- 
 prophesied. 
 
 The meditated attack upon James-town be- 
 ing laid aside, Opechancanough led Smith in 
 triumph through the country; exhibiting him 
 with high exultation to the Youghtanunds, 
 and Mattaponies, the Piankatanks, and Nan- 
 taughtacunds. They afterwards conducted 
 him through the country of the Nominies; 
 and when, for several weeks, he had raised 
 the wonder of some, and provoked the laugh- 
 ter of others, they brought him to Opechanca- 
 nough's chief settlement, on the river Pamun- 
 key. 
 
 This place was much larger, and more pop- 
 ulous than Orapakes; the wigwams were built 
 with more care, and that appropriated to 
 Opechancanough exhibited a rude magnifi- 
 cence. The curiosity of the women was here 
 again excited; and the Indians, in conducting 
 Smith through the crowd, performed with tri- 
 umphant antics their military exercise; throw- 
 ing themselves into a war-dance with every 
 distortion of body; and yelling out the most 
 diabolical screeches and notes. 
 
 Here Smith was confined three days in a 
 separate wigwam ; during which time the in- 
 
295 
 
 habitants came in crowds with frightful howl- 
 ings, and hellish ceremonies, conjuring him 
 to declare whether he intended them good or 
 ill. After this they brought him a bag of 
 gunpow^der, and desired to know what kind 
 of grain it was; for they judged it to be the 
 produce of the earth, and carefully preserved 
 it to plant the next spring. 
 
 At length. Captain Smith, was conducted 
 to Werowocomoco, where Powhatan, the Em- 
 peror lived in savage state and magnificence. 
 When Smith was brought into the presence 
 of Powhatan, he was sitting upon a wooden 
 throne resembling a bedstead, cloathed with a 
 flowing robe of racoon skins, and wearing 
 on his head a coronet of feathers. He was 
 about sixty years of age, somewhat hoary, and 
 of a mien that impressed every beholder with 
 awe. On each side of him sat a young squaw, 
 who practised every endearing softness of her 
 sex, and contended for the caresses of her 
 venerable Sovereign. It was ludicrous to be- 
 hold the bald-headed letcher relax from his 
 ferocity, and, waxing wanton, pinch the cheek 
 of the damsel who most conciliated him. 
 
 When Smith entered the royal Wigwam, 
 the whole Court gave a shout; and the Queen 
 of Appamattox was appointed to carry him 
 water to wash, while one of the concubines left 
 the throne, and brought him a bunch of 
 feathers instead of a towel to dry himself. 
 
296 
 
 Hence Smith was received more like a guest 
 than a prisoner; and, after an abundant 
 supper, a skin was spread for him to sleep 
 upon. 
 
 During the night a centinel was placed at 
 each corner of the royal Wigwam, who every 
 half hour was heard to shout; shaking his 
 finger between his lips to give more horror to 
 the sound. If there was any one found remiss 
 in making this clamour, the Captain of the 
 watch immediately took a cudgel and beat 
 him over the head and shoulders till he roared 
 with anguish. 
 
 The person of Smith was extremely pre- 
 possessing; to a figure comely from nature 
 was superadded that external grace which he 
 had acquired in the court and the camp of 
 Great Britain; and several ladies of distin- 
 guished rank had heaped upon him unequiv- 
 ocal marks of their tenderness. The influence 
 of the passions is uniform, and their effects 
 nearly the same in every human breast; hence 
 love operates in the same manner throughout 
 the world, and discovers itself by the same 
 symptoms in the breasts of beings separated 
 by an immeasurable ocean. When Smith ap- 
 peared before Powhatan, the first impression 
 he made decided favourably for him on the 
 minds of the women. This his knowledge of 
 the sex soon discovered ; but his attention was 
 principally attracted by the charms of a young 
 
297 
 
 girl, whose looks emanated from a heart that 
 was the seat of every tenderness, and who 
 could not conceal those soft emotions of which 
 the female bosom is so susceptible. It is in vain 
 to attempt opposing the inroads of the blind 
 god ; the path of love is a path to which there 
 is no end; in which there is no remedy for 
 lovers but to give up their souls. 
 
 This young girl was the daughter of the 
 Emperor Powhatan. She was called Poca- 
 hontas; and when Smith was engaged by the 
 interrogations of the King, and she thought 
 herself unobserved, never did the moon gaze 
 more steadfastly on the water than she on the 
 prisoner. 
 
 The next day a long and profound consulta- 
 tion was held by the King and his Privy 
 Council, when a huge stone was brought be- 
 fore Powhatan, and several men assembled 
 with clubs in their hands. The lamentations 
 of the women admonished Smith of his des- 
 tiny; who being brought blindfolded to the 
 spot, his head was laid on the block, and the 
 men prepared with their clubs to beat out his 
 brains. The women now became more bitter 
 in their lamentations over the victim; but the 
 savage Monarch was inexorable, and the ex- 
 ecutioners were lifting their arms to perform 
 the office of death, when Pocahontas ran with 
 mournful distraction to the stone, and getting 
 the victim's head into her arms, laid her own 
 
298 
 
 upon it to receive the blow. Fair spirit! thou 
 ministering angel at the throne of grace! If 
 souls disengaged from their earthly bondage 
 can witness from the bosom of eternal light 
 what is passing here below, accept, sweet 
 Seraph, this tribute to thy humanity. 
 
 Powhatan was not wanting in paternal feel- 
 ing; his soul was devoted to his daughter 
 Pocahontas; and so much did his ferocity re- 
 lent at this display of innocent softness in a 
 girl of fourteen, that he pronounced the pris- 
 oner's pardon, and dismissed the executioners. 
 Indeed, every heart melted into tenderness 
 at the scene. The joy of the successful medi- 
 ator expressed itself in silence; she hung 
 wildly on the neck of the reprieved victim, 
 weeping with a violence that choaked her 
 utterance. 
 
 The breast of Smith did not yield to this 
 act of female softness and humanity; it excited 
 an emotion of gratitude, but it kindled no 
 passion in his heart. Formed for action and 
 enterprize, he considered love an imbecility 
 unworthy of a great mind ; and although his 
 person could inspire tender sentiments, his 
 mind was not ductile to them. His penetra- 
 tion, however, foresaw the uses to which the 
 passion of Pocahontas for him might be con- 
 verted; and his solicitude for the success of 
 the Colony, which was much nearer his heart, 
 made him feign a return of that fondness 
 
299 
 
 which every day augmented in the bosom of 
 the Princess. 
 
 It was the custom of Powhatan when he 
 was weary of his women, to bestow them 
 among those of his courtiers who had in- 
 gratiated themselves into his favour; nor 
 could his servants be more honoured than by 
 this mark of his esteem. 
 
 Powhatan had conceived a very high predi- 
 lection for Captain Smith. He caused his 
 person to be adorned with a robe of racoon 
 skins, similar to that which he wore himself ; 
 and when he was glutted with the possession 
 of the two women, who sat at his throne, he 
 signified it to be his royal pleasure to consign 
 one of them to his guest. 
 
 No sooner did this intelligence reach the 
 ears of the squaws, than a bitter controversy 
 took place between them respecting which of 
 the two was the more worthy of pre-eminence. 
 Jealousy cannot like other passions be re- 
 strained by modesty or prudence; a vent it 
 will have ; and soon it burst forth from these 
 women with the impetuosity of a torrent. 
 They had neither nails, nor fingers enough to 
 scratch with ; nor a volubility of tongue suffi- 
 cient to deliver the abuse that laboured with 
 convulsive throes to come forth from their 
 bosoms. 
 
 At length, Powhatan separated the com- 
 batants, and told Smith to make his choice. 
 
300 
 
 But Smith, who was a man that never forgot 
 the respect due to himself, declined with cold 
 civility the honour his Majesty intended him ; 
 to the unspeakable joy of Pocahontas, who 
 had awaited the event in solitude and tears. 
 
 Two days after Powhatan disguised himself 
 in the most frightful manner his imagination 
 could suggest. He then caused Captain 
 Smith to be carried to a great wigwam in 
 the woods, and there be left alone on a mat 
 by the fire. Not long after, from behind a 
 kind of arras that divided the apartment, was 
 made the most doleful noise his ears had ever 
 heard; and, presently Powhatan, with about 
 two hundred more Indians in masquerade, 
 came from behind the arras, and informed 
 Smith they were now friends, and that he 
 should immediately go to James-town, and 
 send him one of those engines of war whose 
 loud voice could mimic the thunder of the 
 clouds; that he would give him the country 
 of Capahowsick in exchange for it, and ever 
 after esteem him next to his son Nantaquas. 
 Captain Smith reposed but little confidence 
 in his words ; he expected every minute to be 
 put to some savage death ; but Powhatan sent 
 him away immediately with twelve guides, 
 and, having lodged that night in the woods, 
 he arrived the next morning early at the fort. 
 
 And thus Captain Smith, after a seven 
 weeks' captivity, returned to James-town; 
 
30I 
 
 improved in his knowledge of the country, 
 and the language of the natives. He behaved 
 to his guides with the most flattering atten- 
 tion, and, having shewn Pawhunt, the con- 
 fidential servant of Powhatan, a brass nine- 
 pounder, desired he would carry it with his 
 compliments to the King. The weight of the 
 cannon soon deterred him from the attempt; 
 but when the Indians saw him discharge it, 
 loaded with stone, among the bows of a large 
 oak, they ran with wonder and dismay from 
 the engine of terror. 
 
 Finding every effort inejffectual to transport 
 the gun to Powhatan, their curiosity was 
 turned to the toys Captain Smith exhibited 
 before them. With these he loaded his 
 guides, after selecting the most dazzling 
 as presents for Powhatan, Opitchapan his 
 brother, Nantaquas his son, and the tender 
 Pocahontas. 
 
 When Smith returned to James-town, he 
 found the colony in the utmost confusion. 
 They considered their affairs desperate, and 
 were fitting out a bark to return to England. 
 Our adventurer exerted his abilities to frus- 
 trate the execution of this project. He lost 
 no occasion to adorn with every embellish- 
 ment of imagination, the beauty and fertility 
 of the country he had travelled through; he 
 dwelt with admiration on the grain reposited 
 in the store-houses of the natives ; and in fact, 
 
302 
 
 represented it to be a second Canaan, a land 
 that flowed with milk and honey. His elo- 
 quence was not without the desired effect. 
 He prevailed upon the bravest of his com- 
 panions to alter their resolution, and by their 
 assistance he overawed the extravagant pro- 
 jects of the rest. 
 
 The Colonists, therefore, thought once more 
 of maintaining the fort; and in this resolution 
 they were confirmed by the coming of Poca- 
 hontas with a numerous train of attendants, 
 loaded with Indian corn and other grain of 
 the country. 
 
 The Colonists flocked with eager curiosity 
 to behold an Indian girl, who had saved by 
 her interposition the life of their Chief; nor 
 was their admiration less excited by the beauty 
 of her person, than the humanity of her dis- 
 position.* 
 
 * Pocahontas was eminently interesting both in form and 
 features. Her person was below the middle size, but admirably- 
 proportioned. Her waist resembled that of the French Mon- 
 arch's mistress; it was la taille a la main. Her limbs were 
 delicate; and her feet were distinguished by exquisite insteps, 
 such as of those women whom Homer calls ?ic<r<l>vpovg. 
 
 It has been remarked, says Hawkesworth, (this single sen- 
 tence is of more value than the folios of Lavater), that the 
 predominant passion may generally be discovered in the coun- 
 tenance, because the muscles by which it is expressed, being 
 almost perpetually contracted, lose their tone, and never 
 wholly relax; so that the expression remains when the 
 passion is suspended. 
 
 Sensibility had left its signature upon the countenance of 
 Pocahontas. It needed no Ghost, to inform him who delights 
 
303 
 
 The acclamations of the crowd affected to 
 tears the sensibility of Pocahontas; but her 
 native modesty was abashed ; and it was with 
 delight that she obeyed the invitation of Cap- 
 tain Smith to wander with him, remote from 
 vulgar curiosity, along the banks of the river. 
 It was then she gave loose to all the tumultu- 
 ous extasy of love; hanging on his arm, and 
 weeping with an eloquence much more power- 
 ful than words. 
 
 The same year Captain Newport arrived 
 from England with a reinforcement of men, 
 and a supply of provisions. The ship also 
 brought a quantity of such trinkets as the 
 Indians are captivated with, and she was sent 
 back loaded with cedar, skins, and furs. 
 
 It was the opinion of many chimerical heads 
 in England, that the bay of Chesapeak had 
 its source not far from the South Sea. Smith, 
 however he discredited this idea, was ever 
 ready to promote discoveries; and, in a boat 
 adapted to the voyage, he traced the bay to its 
 very head. He also sailed up the Potomac 
 river to its falls; and having an eye for the 
 
 to read the human face divine, that the softer passions had 
 produced a mechanical effect on the aspect of this Indian Maid. 
 The characters were too plain not to be understood; they 
 gave a turn and cast to her features that made a forcible 
 impression on the mind of the beholder. Her beauty did 
 not depend on mere features, but temper and sentiment. And 
 we ought not to wonder that her looks afterwards captivated 
 a man of elegant education. 
 
304 
 
 wonders of nature, beheld with awful admira- 
 tion the vast volume of water obstructed by 
 irregular rocks, over which it broke with a 
 roar that filled the country around. 
 
 In the absence of Captain Smith, Powhatan 
 having taken offence at some act of the Colo- 
 nists, sent them a hatchet, which was a token 
 of defiance; and laid waste to the fields of 
 corn, which he judged it might be difficult to 
 protect. When Smith returned to the fort, 
 he found his people reduced to a state border- 
 ing on famine; and that there was no alter- 
 native left but to invade a neighbouring town, 
 and levy contributions on their grain. A de- 
 tachment of the bravest men was selected from 
 the Colonists, and an early hour of the morn- 
 ing was fixed for their departure; but the 
 crafty Powhatan by the means of his spies 
 anticipated their march; the oldest warriors 
 were posted in ambush to wage among them 
 unseen destruction; and the whole party 
 would inevitably have been destroyed by the 
 Indians, had not the kind, the faithful, the 
 lovely Pocahontas, in a dismal night of thun- 
 der, lightning, and rain, stole through the 
 woods, and apprized Smith of his danger. 
 
 Can the wild legends of rude ages, or the 
 sentimental fictions of refinement, supply an 
 heroine whose qualities would not be eclipsed 
 by the Indian Pocahontas? 
 
 The return of Captain Smith restored to 
 
305 
 
 the colony its former importance. His care, 
 courage, and vigilance, not only defeated the 
 projects of the neighboring Indians, but in- 
 spired even Powhatan with awe; and the Col- 
 onists no longer entertained any fear from the 
 incursions of the natives. 
 
 But at this period an accident happened to 
 Captain Smith, which deprived the colony 
 of his services. From the sea to the falls of 
 James river, the face of the country is uni- 
 formly level; but where the water becomes 
 obstructed the land swells into the prospect 
 of hills rising over hills. 
 
 Smith finding it necessary, from the great 
 influx of emigrants to the colony, to establish 
 a new Settlement, made choice of this spot; 
 and assisted himself in throwing up a forti- 
 fication. But while he was lying asleep one 
 night in his boat, a spark from a fire which 
 had been kindled by a boy, communicated to 
 his powder-bag, which blew up, and tore the 
 flesh from his thighs and part of his body, in 
 a manner that endangered his life. 
 
 In this deplorable condition Captain Smith 
 was carried to James-town, where, there be- 
 ing neither a Surgeon nor Surgeon's chest, 
 he embarked in a ship that had brought over 
 a supply of men, and was preparing to sail 
 for England. It was on Michaelmas day,^ 
 1609, that Captain Smith bade farewell to 
 that shore on which he had founded a Colony, 
 
3o6 
 
 that was decreed in the progress of time to 
 become an independent empire, and confed- 
 erating itself with other Colonies, to hold a 
 distinguished rank among the nations of the 
 earth. 
 
 Though the breast of Pocahontas cherished 
 the deepest affection for Captain Smith, yet, 
 such is the native modesty of the sex in all 
 countries, that she could not collect resolution 
 to tell him of her love; and the Captain, like 
 a true soldier, unwilling to put his unhoused 
 free condition, into circumscription and con- 
 fine, though he ventured her endearments, 
 never dropped the slightest hint about mar- 
 riage. Pocahontas had, however, the discern- 
 ment to perceive that among people of a civil- 
 ized nation, no bonds but those of marriage 
 could secure to a woman the object of her 
 affections; and that little confidence was to 
 be reposed in the fond assurances of a lover 
 till he evinced their sincerity by becoming a 
 husband. Averse to any solemn engagement 
 with Pocahontas, yet, conscious of her own 
 ardour for such an union. Smith devised an 
 expedient that could not fail to cure her of 
 her passion. He embarked privately for 
 England, and enjoined the Colonists as they 
 valued their own safety, to represent that he 
 was dead ; for Smith knew the mischief every 
 woman feels an impulse to perpetrate whose 
 passion has been scorned; but he also remem- 
 
307 
 
 bered the position, that where there was no 
 hope there could be no longer love; and the 
 breast, which, knowing him to be living, 
 would glow with an impatience of revenge, 
 would, on the belief of his death, be accessible 
 only to the softness of sorrow. The project 
 of our adventurer was founded on an acquaint- 
 ance with the human heart; for when Poca- 
 hontas again, under pretence of carrying pro- 
 visions to the fort, gratified her secret longing 
 to meet her beloved Englishman, she yielded 
 to every bitterness of anguish on hearing of 
 his death. A Colonist of the name of Wright, 
 undertook to practise the deceit* He pre- 
 tended to shew the afflicted girl the grave of 
 Captain Smith, recounting the tender remem- 
 brance he expressed for her in his dying 
 moments, and the hope he fondly indulged to 
 meet her in the world of spirits. Love is 
 ever credulous ; but Pocahontas listened to this 
 artful tale with catholic faith. She pros- 
 trated herself on the pretended grave, beat 
 her bosom, and uttered the most piercing cries. 
 
 Mr. John Rolfe, one of the Colonists, was 
 young, brave, generous, but of impetuous pas- 
 sions. His fine talents had been cultivated 
 by a liberal education; but his feelings, ever 
 tremblingly alive to external impressions, 
 
 [* " They did tell us alwaies you were dead, and I knew no 
 other till I came to Plimoth . . Your Countriemen will lie 
 much."] 
 
3o8 
 
 made him resentful of even an involuntary 
 design to offend; and an affair of honour with 
 a superior officer had driven him to the shores 
 of the new world. 
 
 Possessing a supreme contempt for the 
 vulgar, there were few of the Colonists whose 
 company he could endure. The only com- 
 panion of his social hour for a long time had 
 been Smith; but when that gallant soldier 
 returned to England, Rolfe constructed for 
 himself a log-house in the woods, and, when 
 not upon duty at the fort, was to be found 
 there solitary and sad. 
 
 Though the breast of Rolfe possessed not 
 the ambition of Smith, it was infinitely more 
 accessible to the softer emotions. He beheld 
 with interest the tender sentiments which 
 Pocahontas cherished for Captain Smith, and 
 participating in her sorrow, his own heart 
 became infected with a violent passion. He 
 delighted in the secrecy of his solitude, where 
 he could indulge undisturbed the emotions 
 that Pocahontas had excited; he wandered de- 
 jected by moon-light along the banks of the 
 river; and he who once was remarked for 
 dressing himself with studied elegance, now 
 walked about with his stockings ungartered. 
 
 Ominia vincit amor ; et nos cedamus amori. 
 
 Virg. 
 
 Love, through all the world, maintains resistless sway. 
 Love conquers all, and Love we must obey. 
 
309 
 
 The mind of Rolfe warmed with the ideal 
 caresses of Pocahontas, produced often in his 
 walks a poem to his Indian beauty. Of these 
 effusions I have three in my possession; they 
 rise, I think, above mediocrity; and as every 
 thing that relates to the lover of Pocahontas 
 will excite curiosity, I shall not withhold them 
 from the public. They mark very strongly 
 the climax of his passion. 
 
 TO POCAHONTAS. 
 
 WHY, sweet Nymph, that heart-fetch'd sigh. 
 Which thy heaving bosom rends? 
 Whence that pensive, down-cast eye. 
 Whose magic glance soft transport sends ! 
 
 Sure thy roving thoughts recal, 
 
 A faithless Lover to thy mind ; 
 
 Whose heart thy charms did once enthrall, 
 
 But now inconstant as the wind. 
 
 Ah ! disclaim his fickle love. 
 Take some more deserving swain ; 
 The tale he whisper'd in the grove. 
 Heed not when he tells again. 
 
 The second poem in my little collection 
 bears a striking similitude to a Latin Quatrain 
 of Buchanan * whose poems were extant in 
 the reign of James I. But whether the re- 
 semblance be studied or casual, there is no 
 external evidence to decide. 
 
 * Rolfe might have had recourse to the original Greek. 
 [These verses doubtless are not Rolfe's.] 
 
3IO 
 
 TO POCAHONTAS. 
 
 HE who thy lovely face beholds, 
 
 Where beauty every charm unfolds, 
 
 Is surely blest ; but more so he. 
 
 Who hears thy voice of harmony! 
 
 But more than mortal is the bliss 
 
 Of him who ravishes a kiss, ' , 
 
 In playful dalliance, from those lips. 
 
 Where glowing Love his empire keeps. 
 
 But quite a God is, sure the swain, 
 
 Wlio feels thee, blushing, kiss again; 
 
 And from that mouth the gift receives 
 
 Wliich all his soul of sense bereaves ! 
 
 In the preceding little poem there will be 
 found some lines unskilfully wrought; yet, 
 so much more can we feel than imagine, and 
 so much will truth predominate over fiction, 
 that it will be, perhaps, recurred to with- 
 out satiety, when the bundles of epic 
 rhymes which now usurp the shelves of the 
 bookseller, shall be transferred to their law- 
 ful claimants, the pastry-cook, and trunk- 
 maker. 
 
 The third and last poem of Mr. Rolfe, was 
 produced on the banks of the river Powhatan. 
 In this his epigram and spriteliness have left 
 him. He appears to be deeply wounded ; not, 
 indeed, by the arrow of an Indian, but the 
 bow of a child. He seems to have received 
 a death-wound; the very pin of his heart is 
 cleft with the but-shaft of Cupid. 
 
311 
 
 SONNET TO POCAHONTAS 
 
 WHERE from the shore, I oft have view'd the sail, 
 
 Mount on the flood, and darken in the gale. 
 
 Now wan with care, beneath the oak reclin'd. 
 
 Thy form, O! Pocahontas, fills my mind. 
 
 Here from my comrades, where the moon's soft beam. 
 
 Trembles in antic shadows on the stream ; 
 
 Here the sad muse, in sympathy of woe. 
 
 Assists my grief in solitude to flow. 
 
 Here where the mocking-bird, the woods among, 
 
 Warbles with rolling note her plaintive song, 
 
 And the sad Mucakawis' ill-omen'd strain, 
 
 Rings from the woods, and echoes to the plain, 
 
 Here as I pensive wander through the glade, 
 
 I sigh and call upon my Indian Maid.* 
 
 It was during one of these nights, when 
 Mr. Rolfe was sitting woe-begone under an 
 oak, sighing and groaning, and coupling love 
 with dove, that a foot wandering among the 
 trees disturbed his profound thoughts. It was 
 too light to belong to a man, and his prophetic 
 soul told him it was the step of Pocahontas. 
 He stole to the spot. It was SHE! It was 
 Pocahontas strewing flowers over the imag- 
 inary grave of Captain Smith. Overcome with 
 terror and surprize, to be thus discovered by 
 a stranger, the powers of life were suspended, 
 and she sunk into the arms of Rolfe. For 
 what rapturous moments is a lover often in- 
 
 [* The author uses this sonnet again in his historical novel, 
 The First Settlers of Virginia, p. 172. He does not there di- 
 rectly ascribe the lines to Rolfe.] 
 
312 
 
 debted to accident! The impassioned youth 
 clasped the Indian Maid to his beating heart, 
 and drank from her lips the poison of delight. 
 The breast of a woman is, perhaps, never more 
 susceptible of a new passion than when it is 
 agitated by the remains of a former one. 
 When Pocahontas recovered from her con- 
 fusion, a blush burnt on her cheek to find her- 
 self in the arms of a man; but when Rolfe 
 th rew himself before her on his knees, and 
 clasping his hands to the moon, discovered the 
 emotions that had so long filled his breast, 
 the afflicted girl suffered him to wipe the tear 
 from her eye that overflowed with sorrow, 
 and no longer repulsed the ardour of his 
 caresses. The day was now breaking on the 
 summits of the mountains in the East; the 
 song of the mocking-bird* was become faint, 
 
 * Of the feathered choir on the Western Continent, none is 
 to be compared to the mocking-bird. When weary of mocking 
 other birds, it luxuriates in an original strain ; a strain charac- 
 terised sometimes by merriment, and sometimes by tender- 
 ness. It delights, however, in cheerful tunes; and such is the 
 sprightliness of the mocking-bird, that it will jump and dance 
 to its own cadence. 
 
 No writer before me has ever introduced this songster war- 
 bling either by night or by day. Brown in his thousand and one 
 novels, lays all the scenes in bis native country, and yet, never 
 once makes mention of this bird! Oh! what a sullenness 
 against nature ! And the Travellers from England seem more 
 delighted with the bellowing of the bull-frog, on whose into- 
 nations they lavish all their eloquence. 
 
 In Prince William County, Virginia, I lucubrated late; and 
 whenever the moon was visible, my feelings were always 
 raised by the song of the mocking-bird. It generally perched 
 
313 
 
 and the cry of the Muckawiss was heard only 
 at long intervals. Pocahontas urged to go; 
 but Rolfe still breathed in her ear the music 
 of his vows, as he held her in his arms, or 
 still rioted in the draught of intoxication from 
 her lips. The sun had appeared above the 
 mountains when Pocahontas returned through 
 the woods. 
 
 In the early part of the year 1612, two more 
 ships arrived from England with men and 
 provisions. They found the colony much dis- 
 tressed for want of grain; they had no leader 
 to stimulate them to industry by his example, 
 and, relapsing into indolence, had neglected 
 the cultivation of the earth. The provision 
 brought them by the ships was not sufficient 
 for them to subsist on long; and Powhatan, 
 who was still at variance with the colony 
 refused them a supply.* 
 
 within a hundred yards of my log-hut. Old Aunt Patty, the 
 negro cook, was sitting on the threshhold of the next door, 
 smoking the stump of an old pipe. " Please God Almighty," 
 exclaimed the old woman, " how sweet that mocking-bird 
 " sing! He never tire! " 
 
 * The distress of the Colonists appears ludicrous, when we 
 search for the cause of the effect. It was. a spirit of forming 
 Utopian schemes of government, which heaped on them such 
 calamities. It was agreed that no man should have any per- 
 sonal property in land or grain, but that every one should 
 labour for, and be maintained by the public stock. The natural 
 consequence was, that every man consumed as much of the 
 public stock as he could come at, and contributed nothing to 
 it by his labour but what he could not avoid. Hinc illce 
 lachrymce! 
 
3H 
 
 In this critical situation of affairs, Captain 
 Argall, who commanded one of the ships, 
 devised an expedient to bring Powhatan to 
 a compliance with their demands. His pro- 
 lific brain was big with a stratagem, which, 
 however unjustifiable, met with the concur- 
 rence of the Colonists. He knew the afifection 
 which Powhatan bore for his daughter Poca- 
 hontas, and was determined to seize her. 
 
 Argall, having unloaded his vessel at the 
 fort, sailed up the Potomac, under pretence 
 of trading with the Indians who inhabited its 
 banks. But he had been info rmed that Poca- 
 hontas was on a visit to Japazaws, King of 
 Potomac, and his real motive was to gain 
 over the savage by presents, and make him 
 the instrument of putting Pocahontas into his 
 power. 
 
 Japazaws had his price. For the promised 
 reward of a copper-kettle, of which this sav- 
 age had become enamoured, he prevailed on 
 Pocahontas to accompany him and his Queen 
 in a visit on board the ship ; when Argall de- 
 tained the betrayed girl, and conveyed her, 
 with some corn he had purchased, in triumph 
 to the fort. 
 
 Rolfe was not sorry for the stratagem that 
 brought Pocahontas to the fort. He had ex- 
 posed himself to the most imminent danger 
 by a mid-night expedition to the neighbor- 
 hood of Werowocomoco, where his Indian 
 
315 
 
 beauty had promised to meet him in an un- 
 frequented grove; and he would have been 
 inevitably scalped by a party of the enemy, 
 had not Nantaquas, whose friendship the lover 
 had diligently cultivated, interposed his kind 
 offices, and not only restrained the arms of 
 his savage companions, but conducted him 
 out of danger. 
 
 Pocahontas now put herself under the pro- 
 tection of Rolfe, who, by his tender, but re- 
 spectful conduct, soothed her mind to tran- 
 quillity; while the Colonists, influenced by 
 other passions, renewed their importunities 
 upon Powhatan, demanding a supply of pro- 
 visions in ransom for his child. 
 
 Powhatan, in solicitude for his daughter, 
 and being informed that a formidable rein- 
 forcement of men and ammunition had ar- 
 rived at the fort, not only complied with the 
 terms of the ransom, but proposed to enter 
 into an alliance with the Colonists. 
 
 It was Nantaquas who came to the fort with 
 provisions to ransom his sister. Rolfe availed 
 himself of the occasion to contrive a private 
 interview with them, and propose himself in 
 unequivocal terms as a husband to Pocahon- 
 tas. The amiable girl was flattered by the 
 preference of the young and accomplished 
 European. Nantaquas urged the suit; and 
 when Rolfe took the hand of Pocahontas, and 
 with a look of inexpressible anxiety and ten- 
 
3i6 
 
 derness repeated his proposal, the lovely 
 Indian was melted to softness, and with blush- 
 ing timidity consented to become his wife. 
 
 The ransom being paid, Pocahontas was 
 now at liberty to return to Werowocomoco. 
 But Hymen was not to be cheated of his 
 prerogative; neither Rolfe nor Pocahontas 
 were willing ever more to separate; and 
 Nantaquas was dispatched to obtain the con- 
 sent of Powhatan. 
 
 Powhatan did not withhold his consent; 
 but adhering to the resolution he had made 
 never to put himself into the power of the 
 whites, he sent Opitchapan, the uncle of 
 Pocahontas, with his son Nantaquas, to wit- 
 ness the marriage. 
 
 Rolfe was now happy in the arms of Poca- 
 hontas; nor did satiety necessarily follow from 
 fruition. The Indian bride discovered in 
 every question an eagerness of knowledge; 
 and the elegant attainments of her husband, 
 enabled him to cultivate the wild paradise of 
 her mind. Rolfe found in Pocahontas that 
 companion of his solitude for which he had 
 so long sighed ; and as she reclined her head 
 on his shoulder before the door, and either 
 made interrogation respecting Europe, or ex- 
 changed with him the glance of intelligence 
 and affection, his eyes sparkled with fondness, 
 and he caught her with transport to his breast. 
 Rolfe had brought with him into the woods 
 
317 
 
 of America, a mind not inductile to wit and 
 humour, but more often abstracted in the rec- 
 ollection of sentiment. When not employed 
 at the fort, he indulged the impulse of his 
 mind for composition, and wrote as the mo- 
 ment urged him, in prose or song. Of his 
 poetical productions I shall submit one to 
 my readers. 
 
 Within Powhatan s calm retreat, 
 
 Repos'd beneath the woodland glade, 
 I envy not the gaudy great, 
 
 Gay dance by night, or masquerade. 
 
 For other thoughts my breast possess. 
 The joys that from reflection come; 
 
 The bland discourse, the soft caress 
 Of her who makes this cot a dome. 
 
 Then why exchange my sylvan seat, 
 Impervious to unhallow'd feet, 
 For crowds that ruder passions know. 
 To me inelegant and low? 
 
 In the year 1616, several ships arrived at 
 the Colony, from different parts of England; 
 and Rolfe, being, by the death of his father, 
 come to the inheritance of an estate in Middle- 
 sex, he embarked with his Indian bride in a 
 vessel for Plymouth. Pocahontas had pre- 
 sented him with a son; and their infant off- 
 spring accompanied them across the Atlantic. 
 
 It was on the 12th of June, 161 6, that Mr. 
 Rolfe arrived at Plymouth with Pocahontas. 
 He immediately proceeded with her to Lon- 
 don, where she was introduced at Court to 
 
3i8 
 
 James I. who, tenacious of his prerogative, 
 was inflamed with indignation that one of his 
 subjects should aspire to an alliance with royal 
 blood. The haughty Monarch would not 
 suffer Rolfe to be admitted to his presence; 
 and when he received Pocahontas, his looks 
 rebuked her for descending from the dignity 
 of a King's daughter, to take up with a man 
 of no title or family. The Ladies of the Court 
 were, however, charmed with the unaffected 
 sweetness of her manners; and spared no 
 caresses nor presents to sooth her to com- 
 placency. 
 
 At length Captain Smith advanced to salute 
 Pocahontas; at whose unexpected appearance, 
 she expressed the utmost astonishment, which 
 gave way to scorn. 
 
 Ilia solo fixos oculos aversa tenebat* 
 
 But in a private interview, the tender girl 
 hung over Smith with tears, and reproached 
 him in accents that breathed kindness, rather 
 than resentment. 
 
 The smoke of London being offensive to 
 Pocahontas, (and to what person is it not 
 offensive who has been accustomed to the pure 
 air of the woods,) Rolfe removed her to 
 Brentford, where she breathed a less noxious 
 atmosphere. Here she was often visited by 
 ladies of distinguished rank, from the metrop- 
 olis; and carriages, bearing coronets, were 
 
 [* Aeneid, VI, 469.] 
 
319 
 
 often drawn up before her door. Good 
 breeding is the offspring of good sense; it is 
 a mode, not a substance; and Pocahontas, 
 whose pentration was intuition, soon learned 
 to receive her visitants with appropriate vari- 
 ations of deference. 
 
 But the hour was hasting when Pocahontas 
 was to descend to that place where the weary 
 are at rest, and the wicked cease from trou- 
 bling; that bosom which had so often under- 
 gone perturbation for the sufferings of an- 
 other, was soon to be stilled; that eye, which 
 had so often overflowed with humanity, was 
 soon to be closed; that hand which had been 
 raised in supplication to avert the death of 
 the prisoner, was soon to moulder in the grave. 
 
 Rolfe's right to his father's lands were dis- 
 puted by another claimant, and not being of 
 a temper to bear with the law's delay, he 
 formed the resolution to embark again with 
 Pocahontas for the shores of the new world. 
 In Virginia he was entitled by the right of 
 his bride, to lands of immeasurable extent; * 
 and he was of opinion that, the return of 
 Pocahontas, by rendering services to the Col- 
 onists, would give permanence to the Settle- 
 ment, and increase the value of his possessions. 
 The estates which had descended to Poca- 
 
 [* Cf . Phettiplace and Pots, Arber, p. cxvii, — " But her mar- 
 riage could no way have entitled him (Smith) by any right 
 to the Kingdome."] 
 
320 
 
 hontas spread over a vast tract of country; 
 they extended to the South nearly as high as 
 the falls of the great rivers, over the Potomac, 
 even to Patuxent, in Maryland. 
 
 But the inscrutable wisdom of Providence 
 had decreed, that Pocahontas was never more 
 to return to her native soil. Rolfe had gone 
 with her to Gravesend, for the purpose of em- 
 barking in a convenient ship ; but fate inter- 
 posed between the design and execution, and 
 at Gravesend Pocahontas died. 
 
 To express the grief which afflicted Rolfe 
 at the death of his wife, who had now for 
 three years been alike the sharer of his sorrow 
 and his joy; who at the age of nineteen, when 
 her mind was every day acquiring an acces- 
 sion of piety, and her person growing more 
 lovely to the sight, was snatched from him 
 prematurely, and borne to the grave; to ex- 
 press his grief were an hopeless attempt, and 
 can be conceived only by him who has been 
 both a husband and lover.* 
 
 * Godwin in his Memoirs of Mary, takes care to inform us, 
 that during the whole illness of that enlightened woman, 
 which brought her to dust, not one word of a religious cast fell 
 from her lips. It was a female who shewed me the passage, 
 and her comment on it was, " Perhaps Mary might have ap- 
 " propriated to herself the exclamation of the King in 
 " Hamlet," 
 
 Pray I cannot. 
 Though inclination he as sharp as will; 
 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent. 
 
 As the biographer of Pocahontas, I could contrast her dying 
 
321 
 
 Pocahontas left one son, from whom are 
 descended, by the female line, two of the most 
 respectable families now in Virginia; the 
 Randolphs and Boilings. 
 
 Thus have I delivered to the world the story 
 of Pocahontas] nor can I refrain from in- 
 dulging the idea, that it was reserved for my 
 pen, to tell with discriminating circumstances, 
 the tale of this Indian girl. No Traveller 
 before me has erected a monument to her 
 memory, by the display of her virtues; for I 
 would not dignify by that name the broken 
 fragment which is to be found in the meagre 
 page of Chastellux* 
 
 In the progress of my story I have adhered 
 inviolably to facts; rejecting every circum- 
 stance that had not evidence to support it. 
 When I was in Virginia, I spared no pains to 
 collect those materials, which I have now 
 digested into a regular and connected series; 
 and, not content with tradition, I obtained re- 
 course to records and original papers. In 
 this part of my volume, I doubt not of en- 
 chaining the attention of the reader; the 
 dangers to which S^nith is exposed awaken 
 a lively curiosity; the humanity of Pocahon- 
 
 moments with those of Mary. This amiable Indian beheld 
 her approaching dissolution with that peace of mind arising 
 from a confidence in the mercy of God, through Him whom 
 he sent to redeem the world; and the last words that faultered 
 on her lips were praises of the Almighty. 
 
 [* Travels in North America in 1780-1782. Part II, Ch. 4.] 
 
322 
 
 tas exacts emotions of tenderness; and the 
 heart is interested in her history from the 
 moment she suspends by her interposition the 
 axe of the executioner, till she draws her last 
 breath on the shore of a foreign country.* 
 
 In eloquence the Indians of America have 
 eminently distinguished themselves. The 
 speech of Logan, a Mingo Chief, exhibits the 
 force and sententious brevity of a Demos- 
 thenes. I cannot repress the impulse I feel 
 to insert this oration ; but it will first be proper 
 to state the incidents that produced it. 
 
 A white man having been murdered on the 
 frontiers of Virginia, by two Indians of the 
 Shawanese tribe, the Colonists undertook to 
 avenge the outrage in a summary manner. A 
 Colonel Cresap collected a party and pro- 
 ceeded down the Ranhaway. A canoe of 
 women and children, with only one man, was 
 perceived at a distance. Cresap concealed his 
 boat in a recess of the river, and crept with 
 his men along the trees that covered its banks. 
 The unsuspecting Indians passed on, when 
 Cresap and his people, singling out their vic- 
 tims, killed the whole party. 
 
 It was the family of Logan, who had long 
 been a friend of the whites. Such unpro- 
 voked cruelty raised his vengeance; and, 
 taking an active part in the war that followed, 
 
 [*The author has used Smith's True Relation, and General 
 History.] 
 
323 
 
 he slew many of the Colonists, and adorned 
 his wigwam with their scalps. 
 
 At length a decisive battle was fought be- 
 tween the Indians and Colonists; the Indians 
 were defeated and sued for peace. The pride 
 of Logan would not suffer him to be seen 
 among the suppliants; but lest the sincerity 
 of a treaty should be distrusted from which 
 so illustrious a Chief withheld himself, he 
 sent by messenger a speech to be delivered to 
 the white people. 
 
 " I appeal to any white man to say, if ever 
 " he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he 
 "gave him not meat; if he ever came cold 
 " and naked, and he clothed him not? Dur- 
 ing the last long and bloody war, Logan 
 " remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for 
 " peace. Such was my love for the whites, 
 " that my countrymen pointed as they passed, 
 " and said, Logan is the friend of the white 
 " men I I had even thought to have lived 
 " with you, but for the injuries of one man. 
 " Colonel Cresapj the last Spring, in cold 
 " blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the 
 " relations of Logan, not sparing even my 
 " women and children. There runs not a 
 " drop of my blood in the veins of any living 
 " creature. This called on me for revenge. 
 " I have sought it; I have killed many; I have 
 " fully glutted my vengeance. For my coun- 
 " try, I rejoice at the beams of peace. But 
 
324 
 
 " do not harbour a thought that mine is the 
 "joy of fear. Logan never felt fear! He 
 "will not turn on his heel to save his life I 
 "Who is there to mourn for Logan? — Not 
 "one!" 
 
 The Indians of America v^ant only an his- 
 torian who would measure them by the stand- 
 ard of Roman ideas, to equal in bravery and 
 magnanimity the proud masters of the world. 
 The descendants of Romulus were ever en- 
 gaged in a perpetual succession of barbarous 
 wars. These wars, dignified by the historic 
 page, are read with veneration by the multi- 
 tude; but the philosopher contemplates them 
 through the same medium that he would a 
 bloody conflict between the Chipeways and 
 Mawdowessies, on one of the Ottowaw lakes. 
 I know not why a Catawba, or Cherokee 
 Chief, should not be considered a rival 
 in greatness with a Roman, or a Latian 
 leader. 
 
 If I understand aright the Roman history, 
 war seems to have been the trade of the ancient 
 Romans. To war they owed their origin, 
 and they pursued it as a system. Let us com- 
 pare with these dignified butchers the depre- 
 ciated Indians of America; and if a love of 
 peace be the criterion of a great character, 
 how will a Roman shrink at the side of an 
 Indian. The Romans were ever found to 
 sheath the sword with reluctance; the Indians 
 
325 
 
 have been always ready to lay down the 
 hatchet.* 
 
 That in humanity and all the softer emo- 
 tions the Indians of America will rival the 
 most polished nations of the world let facts 
 establish. When, after a sanguinary war 
 between the whites and the Indians, a treaty 
 of peace was concluded on, no scene could 
 be more affecting than the sensibility with 
 which the Indians restored their captives to 
 the British. The Indians were of the tribes 
 of Muskingham, and the event took place in 
 the camp of General Bouquet. 
 
 It was with eyes full of tears that the Indians 
 brought their captives into the camp of their 
 countrymen. They visited them from day to 
 day, bringing the horses, furs, and skins, which 
 they had formerly bestowed on them, while 
 they composed part of their families; accom- 
 panied with every act that could display sin- 
 cerity of affection. Nay, some even followed 
 their white inmates to Fort Pitt, hunting for 
 them by the way, and delighting to supply 
 their provisions. 
 
 But a young Mingo War Captain, evinced 
 by his actions that the spirit of chivalry may 
 be found in the forests of barbarous tribes. 
 Wampanoag had formed a strong attachment 
 for a female captive of the name of Helen 
 
 [* Cf. Jefferson's Notes, 3rd Am. ed., New York. 1801, pp. 
 94-96.] 
 
326 
 
 Hopkins, and now at the risk of being killed 
 by the surviving relations of the many un- 
 happy victims whom he had scalped, he ac- 
 companied Helen, who rode his caparisoned 
 horse to the very frontiers of his enemies; 
 assisting her to ford the rivers, decorating her 
 with the plumage of the birds he killed in 
 the woods, and throwing into his looks all 
 the tenderness of a lover. The girl from the 
 prejudice of education, could not refuse to 
 accompany the whites to Fort Pitt; but when 
 the party were to separate at the Ohio, all 
 the woman rushed to her bosom; she clung 
 to Wampanoag with distraction, called him 
 by the endearing name of husband, and with 
 the most bitter lamentations was torn from 
 his arms. 
 
 Of the captives that were restored, many 
 had been taken when children by the Indians. 
 These had been accustomed to consider the 
 Indians as their only relations ; they spoke no 
 other language but that of the Shawanese; 
 and beholding their new state in the light of 
 captivity, they separated from their savage 
 benefactors with mournful reluctance. 
 
 On the parting of the Indians from the 
 British, a Shawanese Chief addressed the 
 white men in a short but humane speech. 
 " Fathers, said the Indian warrior, we have 
 " brought your flesh and blood to you ; they 
 " are our children by adoption, but yours by 
 
327 
 
 natural right. Inmates with us from their 
 ^' tender years, they are wholly unacquainted 
 
 with your customs and manners; and there- 
 
 fore we beseech you to treat them with kind- 
 " ness, that at length, they may become recon- 
 
 ciled to you." * 
 
 It was my design to have spoken only of 
 the Indian in what bore a relation to his moral 
 character, but as the world has been long 
 agitated relative to a particular circumstance 
 of his physical construction, I cannot neglect 
 the opportunity to produce a testimony or 
 two upon the subject. 
 
 " It has been said," observes Mr. Jefferson 
 in his Notes, " that Indians have less hair than 
 " the whites, except on their heads. But this 
 
 is a fact of which fair proof can scarcely 
 " be had. With them it is disgraceful to be 
 " hairy on the body. They say it likens them 
 " to hogs. They therefore, pluck the hair 
 " as fast as it appears. But the traders who 
 " marry their women, and prevail on them to 
 " discontinue this practice, say that nature is 
 
 the same with them as the whites." t 
 
 He who can read the concluding part of 
 this sentence, in which Mr. Jefferson still 
 maintains that tone of philosophic gravity 
 which breathes throughout his Work, without 
 
 [* Cf. Historical Account of Bouquefs Expedition against 
 the Ohio Indians, Philadelphia 1766. Reprint: Cincinnati, 
 1868, p. 77; P- 90.] 
 
 [f Notes on Virginia. 3rd Am. ed., p. 93; and p. 301.] 
 
328 
 
 a smile, must possess more stoical composure 
 than I. The dispute which has been so long 
 sub judice, was not respecting the physical 
 woman, but the physical man of the new 
 world. The question in point was about 
 beards. It was contended for by the philoso- 
 phers of Europe, that the Aborigines of Amer- 
 ica were without any hair to their chins, and 
 that not all the warriors of the six nations 
 could furnish one respectable beard. From 
 this peculiarity in the American Indian, in- 
 ferences were deduced by no means favoura- 
 ble to the other parts of his physical con- 
 formation; for when philosophers have once 
 established a position they are seldom slow in 
 building upon it. 
 
 But the dispute has at last been decided, 
 and the red man of America is restored to his 
 physical dignity; it has been discovered that 
 nature has been not less liberal in her gifts 
 to the Indian than the European; that the 
 Indians would have beards but that they will 
 not suffer them to grow. 
 
 On a subject of such magnitude; a subject 
 that has called forth every acuteness of dis- 
 quisition from a Buffon on one side of the 
 Atlantic, and a Jejferson on the other; what- 
 ever positive evidence can be produced, is 
 entitled to serious attention. It is, therefore, 
 with satisfaction I lay before my readers three 
 certificates of unquestionable authority. 
 
329 
 
 Colonel Butler's Testimony. 
 
 The Indians of the Six Nations have all 
 beards naturally as have all other nations of 
 North America which ever I saw. Several 
 of the Mohocks shave with razors, as do like- 
 wise several of the Panees, who have had an 
 intercourse with Europeans. But in general 
 the Indians pluck out the beard by the roots 
 from its earliest appearance; and as their 
 faces are therefore smooth, it has been sup- 
 posed they were without this characteristical 
 mark of their sex. I am even of opinion that, 
 if the Indians were to practise shaving from 
 their youth, many of them would have as 
 strong beards as Europeans. (Signed) 
 
 (True Copy) JOHN BuTLER, 
 
 Agent of Indian Affairs. 
 
 Niagara, April 12, 1784. 
 
 Captain Brant's Testimony. 
 
 The men of the Six Nations have all beards 
 by nature; as have likewise all other Indian 
 nations of North America, which I have seen. 
 The generality pluck out the hairs of the 
 beard by the roots as soon as they begin to 
 appear, and hence they seem to have no beard, 
 or at most only a few straggling hairs, which 
 they have neglected to eradicate. I am, how- 
 ever, of opinion, that if the Indians were to 
 shave, none of them would be without 
 
330 
 
 beards, and that some would have very thick 
 ones. 
 
 (True Copy.) (Signed)j 
 
 Joseph Brant. 
 
 Schenectady, April 19, 1793. 
 
 Major Ward's Testimony. 
 
 I brought up in my family at Flat-Bush, a 
 young Indian of the Montauk nation, who 
 inhabit the East end of Long Island, and 
 having read with interest both Buffon's and 
 Jefferson's philosophic chapter on beards, I 
 would not neglect the fair opportunity which 
 offered to determine the dispute of these great 
 men by an appeal to experience. Directly 
 the chin of this Montauk Indian became 
 razorable, I put a razor into his hand, and 
 taught him to shave; inculcating with all my 
 powers of rhetoric how much importance 
 there was annexed by the world to a beard; 
 that a beard had a kind of mechanical opera- 
 tion upon the mind; that in ages of antiquity 
 no man could be a philosopher without one, 
 and that (the fellow had received a pretty 
 liberal education) it was the opinion of Doc- 
 tor Swift, that the reason Daphne fled from 
 Apollo was because he had no beard. 
 
 This mode of reasoning, together with my 
 own example (I am obliged to shave every 
 morning), induced my Indian protege to en- 
 courage a beard ; he at first shaved every other 
 
331 
 
 day, but in the lapse of a twelvemonth he was 
 obliged to have diurnally recourse to his 
 razor; he has now what may be termed a 
 handsome beard; it is dark, bushy, and re- 
 pulsive; and before he reaches the age of 
 thirty (he is now only twenty- three) he may, 
 I am of opinion, appear with dignity at the 
 Court of the Grand Turk. 
 
 (True Copy.) (Signed) GUY WARD * 
 Long Island, June 15, 1795. 
 
 Upon this subject there can now be no more 
 controversy. Facts will ever supersede specu- 
 lation; and, however the casuist may argue, 
 truth vindicates itself. The page of Buffon 
 that relates to the beards of the Six Nations, 
 may eternally enforce homage by the dignified 
 march of its periods; for the page of Buffon, 
 whether his subject be the creation of the first 
 man, the Arab wandering in the desert, or the 
 
 [* This important documentary evidence is not at once trace- 
 able. Its reappearance in 1801 was to be expected. Colonel 
 John Butler was the famous New York Tory; Cf. Hough, 
 Proceedings, Commissioners of Indian Affairs (New York). 
 
 1783-1790, p. 145- 
 
 " This renowned warrior (Captain Joseph Brant) is not of 
 any royal or conspicuous progenitors, but by his ability in war, 
 and political conduct in peace, has raised himself to the high- 
 est dignity of his nation, and his alliance and friendship is now 
 courted by sovereign and foreign states." 
 
 Patrick Campbell : Travels in North America in the Years 
 i/gi and 1792. Edinburgh 1793. p. 188. Campbell spent 
 several days very agreeably at Brant's house — pp. 188- 
 211.] 
 
332 
 
 Mohock wanting a beard, is ever found to 
 blaze with magnificence, and sparkle with il- 
 lustration. But it can bring no conviction to 
 him who submits his book to his reason, and 
 not his reason to his book. 
 
 About eight miles from the Occoquan mills 
 is a house of worship called Powheek Church ; 
 a name it derives from a Run * that flows 
 near its walls. Hither I rode on Sundays and 
 joined the congregation of Parson Wems, a 
 Minister of the Episcopal persuasion, who 
 was cheerful in his mien that he might win 
 men to religion.t 
 
 A Virginian church-yard on a Sunday, re- 
 sembles rather a race-ground than a sepul- 
 chral-ground the ladies come to it in car- 
 riages, and the men after dismounting from 
 their horses make them fast to the trees. But 
 the steeples to the Virginian churches were 
 designed not for utility, but ornament; for 
 the bell is always suspended to a tree a few 
 
 * A Run is the American for a Rivulet. 
 
 [t " Weems, the biographer of many heroes, in whose hands 
 the trumpet of fame never sounded an uncertain blast" — 
 Rector of Pohick Church, Fairfax County — best known as the 
 author of The Life of George Washington: with curious anec- 
 dotes, equally honorable to himself, and exemplary to his 
 young countryman. Duyckinck, Vol. I, p. 484.] 
 
 Cf . Bayard, Voyage dans I'interieur des Etats-Unis, a 
 Bath, Winchester, dans la Vallee de Shenandoah etc., etc., 
 pendant I'ete de 1791. 2^ ed. Paris. 1798. p. 168, — " Le lende- 
 main, j'allai au temple avec tous les voyageurs : c'etait un edi- 
 fice en bois, autour duquel on voyait ranges des clievaux de 
 prix, enharnaches avec luxe. Les galeries etaient pleines de 
 
333 
 
 yards from the church. It is also observable, 
 that the gate to the church-yard is ever care- 
 fully locked by the sexton, who retires last; 
 so that had Hervey and Gray been born in 
 America, the Preacher of Peace could not 
 have indulged in his Meditations among the 
 Tombs; nor the Poet produced the Elegy that 
 has secured him immortality. 
 
 Wonder and ignorance are ever reciprocal. 
 I was confounded on first entering the church- 
 yard at Powheek to hear 
 
 Steed threaten steed with high and boastful neigh. 
 
 Nor was I less stunned with the rattling of 
 carriage-wheels, the cracking of whips, and 
 the vociferations of the gentlemen to the 
 negroes who accompanied them. But the dis- 
 course of Parson Wems calmed every per- 
 turbation; for he preached the great doctrines 
 of salvation, as one who had experienced their 
 power. It was easy to discover that he felt 
 what he said; and indeed so uniform was his 
 piety, that he might have applied to himself 
 the words of the prophet: " My mouth shall 
 
 negresses et de noirs endimanches. Dans le bas, se trouvaient 
 leurs maitres et maitresses, dont I'exterieur annongait que tous 
 etaient penetres de la saintete du lieu, et de la solennite de la 
 ceremonie. En revenant du temple, j'observai que les portes 
 des maisons etaient fermees: elles le furent pendant tout le 
 jour. M^e B — et ses fiUes se retirerent apres le diner, pour 
 lire quelques chapitres de I'ancien et du nouveau testament: 
 c'est ainsi que dans toutes les villes des Etats-Unis on celebre 
 le jour du dimanche."] 
 
334 
 
 " be telling of the righteousness and salvation 
 " of Christ all the day long; for I know no end 
 " thereof." 
 
 In his youth, Mr. Wems accompanied some 
 young Americans to London, where he pre- 
 pared himself by diligent study for the pro- 
 fession of the church.* After being some 
 months in the metropolis, it was remarked by 
 his companions, that he absented himself from 
 their society towards the close of the day; and 
 conjecturing that the motive of his disappear- 
 ing arose either from the heat of lust, or a 
 proneness to liquor, they determined to watch 
 his conduct. His footsteps were traced, and 
 they found him descending into a wretched 
 cellar that augured no good. But their sus- 
 picions were soon changed on following him 
 into his subterranean apartment. They found 
 him exhorting to repentance a poor wretch, 
 who was once the gayest of the gay, and flat- 
 ered by the multitude, but now languishing on 
 a death bed, and deserted by the world. He 
 was reproving him tenderly, privately, and 
 with all due humility; but holding out to him 
 the consolation of the sacred text, that his sins, 
 red as scarlet, would become by contrition 
 white as snow, and that there was more joy 
 in the angels of heaven over one sinner that 
 
 [* The Bishop of London was the Diocesan of Virginia be- 
 fore the Revolution. Parson Weems was in London for his 
 studies after 1781.] 
 
335 
 
 repented, than over ninety-nine persons whose 
 conduct had been unerring. 
 
 Of the congregation of Powheek Church, 
 about one half was composed of white people, 
 and the other of negroes. Among many of 
 the negroes were to be discovered the most 
 satisfying evidences of sincere piety; an artless 
 simplicity, passionate aspiration after Christ; 
 and an earnest endeavour to know and do the 
 will of God.* 
 
 After church I made my salutations to Par- 
 son Wems, and having turned the discourse 
 to divine worship, I asked him his opinion 
 of the piety of the blacks. " Sir," said he, 
 " no people in this country prize the Sabbath 
 " more seriously than the trampled-upon 
 " negroes. They are swift to hear; they seem 
 " to hear as for their lives. They are wakeful, 
 " serious, reverent, and attentive in God's 
 " house ; and gladly embrace opportunities of 
 " hearing his word. Oh ! it is sweet preaching, 
 "when people are desirous of hearing! 
 " Sweet feeding the flock of Christ, when they 
 " have so good an appetite! " 
 
 How, Sir, did you like my preaching? Sir, 
 cried I, it was a sermon to pull down the 
 
 [* Cf. Dr. Coke's Journals &c. London. 1793, p. 18, — " I 
 sometimes give notice immediately after preaching, that in a 
 little time Harry will preach to the blacks; but the whites al- 
 ways stay to hear him. Sometimes I publish him to preach at 
 candle-light, as the Negroes can better attend at that time. I 
 really believe he is one of the best preachers in the world."] 
 
336 
 
 proud, and humble the haughty. I have rea- 
 son to believe that many of your congrega- 
 tion were under spiritual and scriptural con- 
 viction of their sins. Sir, you spoke home to 
 sinners. You knocked at the door of their 
 hearts. 
 
 I grant that, said Parson Wems. But I 
 doubt (shaking his head) whether the hearts 
 of many were not barred and bolted against 
 me. 
 
 I had been three months at Occoquan, when 
 I so often caught myself stretching, yawning, 
 and exhibiting other symptoms of Ennui, in 
 my chair, that I began to be of opinion it was 
 time to change my residence. My condition 
 was growing irksome. There was no light, 
 airy vision of a female disciple, with express- 
 ive dark eyes, to consider my instructions orac- 
 ular ; but I was surrounded by a throng of oafs, 
 who read their lessons with the same tone that 
 Punch makes when he squeaks through a 
 comb. 
 
 I, therefore, resigned my place to an old 
 drunken Irishman of the name of Burbridge, 
 who was travelling the country on foot in 
 search of an Academy; and whom Friend El- 
 licott made no scruple to engage, though, 
 when the fellow addressed him, he was so 
 drunk that he could with difficulty stand on his 
 legs. 
 
 I remonstrated with Friend Ellicott on the 
 
337 
 
 impropriety of employing a sot to educate his 
 children. " Friend," said he " of all the 
 " schoolmasters I ever employed, none taught 
 " my children to write so good a hand, as a 
 " man who was constantly in a state that bor- 
 " dered on intoxication. They learned more of 
 " him in one month, than of any other in a 
 " quarter. I will make trial of Burbridge/' * 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Return from Occoqum to New-York. — Visit to 
 Mr. George on Long Island. — Meditations 
 among the Tombs. — I go to Baltimore. — Mam- 
 moth Cheese. — An Exchange of Letters with the 
 Vice-President. — A Walk to Washington. — 
 Congress assembled- — Debates. — Politeness of 
 the Vice-President. — A Journey on Foot into 
 Virginia by the Great Falls of the Potomac. — 
 Get benighted. — A Hospitable Reception at a 
 Log-house in the Woods. — A cast-away Sailor 
 restored to the bosom of his Family. — The 
 Story of Jack Strangeways. 
 
 It was not without emotion that I quitted 
 the Banks of the Occoquan; those Banks on 
 which I had passed so many tranquil hours in 
 study and meditation. I was about to ex- 
 
 [* Cf. Goldsmith, 
 
 " Logicians have but ill defined 
 As rational the human mind; . . 
 Homo est ratione preditum 
 But for my soul I cannot credit 'em."] 
 
338 
 
 change the quiet of solitude for the tumult of 
 the world; and was posting I knew not 
 whither, without any object to my journeying. 
 
 I pass over the common occurences of the 
 road to Washington; the contributions levied 
 on my purse by the landlords of Alexandria, 
 and those of the imperial city; but at Balti- 
 more an accident happened, which I have still, 
 under every combination of circumstance, in 
 my memory's eye. 
 
 I had left Peck's tavern in the stage-coach 
 at a very early hour of the morning, when, 
 before we had proceeded half way down 
 Market-street, one of the fore-wheels came off. 
 The driver, on whose presence of mind the 
 safety of the passengers depended, deserted 
 his post in the moment of danger, and leaped 
 from his seat. The horses being without any 
 check, accelerated their pace, and I can only 
 compare their speed to the rapidity of light- 
 ning. This was an awful moment. I ex- 
 pected every moment to be dashed in pieces; 
 and determined to make one effort for my life, 
 I leaped from the carriage into the street; an 
 example that was soon followed by two other 
 passengers. In my eagerness to clear the 
 wheels, I leaped further than was necessary, 
 and received a bruise in my forehead : but one 
 of the other passengers was mangled by the 
 flints in the road. 
 
 On looking up I could perceive nothing but 
 
339 
 
 a flame before me, produced by the horses 
 whose shoes struck fire as they flew ; I followed 
 the carriage with the third passenger, who had 
 escaped unhurt, solicitous to know the fate 
 of a sailor and a boy whom we had left in 
 the coach. We overtook it at Chinquopin-hill, 
 where the horses in their ascent had slackened 
 their pace; and found the sailor and the boy 
 holding the panting cattle by the reins. I 
 congratulated them on their escape, but when 
 I asked the sailor, Why he had not jumped 
 from the carriage? "Avast there," said the 
 tar, " more people are lost by taking to the 
 " boat, than sticking by the wreck; I always 
 " stick to the wreck! " 
 
 A fresh coach and horses conveyed us to 
 Chester, where I supped with Monsieur 
 Pichon, Embassador from France to Amer- 
 ica;* and the next morning arrived at Phila- 
 delphia to breakfast. 
 
 I sojourned a week at Philadelphia, collect- 
 ing what money was due to me for the sale of 
 my Novel, and enjoying the converse of that 
 Mammoth of literature, Joseph Dennie, 
 whom I found seated in all the splendour of 
 absolute dominion among his literary vassals. 
 
 I called on Dufief: but I found him so oc- 
 cupied in teaching French, and selling books, 
 that he had neither leisure nor disposition for 
 
 [* The Baron Louis Andre Pichon, Consul-General, 1800- 
 180s.] 
 
340 
 
 the offices of friendship. Dufief informed me, 
 that Doctor Priestly had called at his shop, 
 and exchanged with him half a dozen copies 
 of Godwin's Political Justice, for the sermons 
 of Massillon, and some other religious works. 
 " This," said the lively Frenchman, " was poor 
 " barter, and I resembled the hero in the Iliad, 
 " who exchanged a shield of silver for another 
 " of brass." 
 
 From Philadelphia I travelled to New- 
 York, partly by water, and partly by land. In 
 the passage-boat to Burlington was a sweet 
 girl of seventeen, whose voice was music ; and 
 who observed that the Pennsylvania shore of 
 the Delaware, was much more pleasant than 
 the Jersey side. 
 
 We got to Burlington a little before the 
 going down of the sun. It is built on the Dela- 
 ware, and at a place so near Philadelphia, I 
 did not expect to be put in the same bed with 
 another passenger. This passenger was going 
 to Canada, and was accompanied on the road 
 with two wagons loaded with bale goods. 
 
 The next day we passed through Hiafs- 
 town, which is composed of a meeting-house, 
 a public-house, and a blacksmith's shop. The 
 next place of any distinction was Cat's Tail, 
 from which to Allen-town is a rugged and al- 
 most insurmountable road, called Feather- 
 bed-lane! Strange names these for a Christian 
 country. 
 
341 
 
 From Amboy, which terminated our land- 
 travelling, we embarked for New-York,* 
 where I found a kind reception at the house of 
 Major Howe. The next day I hastened on 
 the wings of friendship to Mr. George, who 
 was still employed on Long Island in his sub- 
 lime academy. 
 
 I found his hardship walking and meditat- 
 ing near the Dutch church. He received me 
 with transports. We repaired to his house, 
 where I recounted to him my adventures ; but 
 he was impatient of my recital, and eagerly 
 changed the subject to Homer, whose Iliad 
 he made his manual. Nor did he forget to in- 
 quire if I had multiplied my wealth by school- 
 keeping at Occoquan; rightly reflecting, that 
 et genus et virtus nisi cum Re vilior alga est t 
 or in plain English, the man who wants money 
 wants everything. 
 
 I expostulated with my friend. I repre- 
 sented to him that a base metal dug out of the 
 earth was unworthy the care of a philosopher, 
 who ought to contemn every pursuit that was 
 not intellectual ; and that the accumulation of 
 
 [*" There is not a little town on all this coast, but what 
 has this kind of packets going to New York: such as New 
 Haven, New London, &c. They have all the same neatness, 
 the same embellishments, the same convenience for travellers. 
 You may be assured there is nothing like it on the old 
 continent." J. P. Brissot de Warville, New Travels in the 
 United States of America performed in 1788. London, 1794 
 (translation). Vol. I, §§ Newport to New York.] 
 
 [fHor. Sat. II, 5, 8.] 
 
342 
 
 riches tended neither to enlarge the compre- 
 hension, nor elevate the fancy. No, Sir, said 
 I, let not an avarice of money make inroads 
 on your heart; the wants of a philosopher are 
 few, for there is more tranquillity in an un- 
 envied condition, than the opulence of large 
 possessions. 
 
 My friend did not hear a word that I ut- 
 tered. He sat studious and abstracted. You 
 have approved, said he, my Elegy over the 
 grave of a stranger in the woods of Owendaw. 
 I have made an Epitaph on a similar subject. 
 
 Like a tree in a valley unknown, 
 In a region of strangers I fell ; 
 
 No bosom my fate to bemoan, 
 No friend my sad story to tell. 
 
 Come! the weather invites us abroad. Let 
 us walk into the church-yard ; I will put Ham- 
 let in my pocket; a single reflection of Hamlet 
 is of more value than all the meditations of 
 Hervey. 
 
 Death, said George, has mowed down many 
 a lusty fellow in your absence. In that grave 
 reposes a countryman of mine, who died of 
 the yellow fever; an Hibernian, who unfortu- 
 nately brought with him to this climate his 
 habit of hard-drinking. Often has the ale- 
 house here rung with plaudits at his wit; and 
 often has the landlord's daughter sighed on 
 contemplating the vigour of his herculean 
 
343 
 
 form. A brave fellow! he would have taken 
 the Grand Turk by the beard; at the broad- 
 sword and cudgels he was the first in the vil- 
 lage annals ; but Death 
 
 Cudgelled, said I, his brains out at last! 
 
 Who sleeps there? 
 
 A New-York merchant: only last week he 
 w^as sitting in his counting-house, feasting his 
 imagination with visions of bags of dollars. 
 His clerks bowed to him with submission, and 
 his servants watched every motion of his hand. 
 But Death is not practised in the arts of cere- 
 mony, and he refused his mournful supplica- 
 tions of — A little longer! Oh! let me live a 
 little longer! The writings of the eloquent 
 Burke will supply his grave with an epitaph. 
 
 What is that? 
 
 Why, — His God was his gold; his country 
 his invoice; his desk his altar; his ledger his 
 bible; his church his exchange; and he had no 
 faith but in his banker! 
 
 Who lies in that grave? No flower grows 
 near it. 
 
 A New-York Reviewer. He spared writ- 
 ers of no sex or condition; nor has Death 
 spared him. He is gone himself to be re- 
 viewed by the Great Reviewer of Reviewers. 
 
 From whose awful tribunal, said I, there is 
 no appeal. 
 
 Who reposes there? 
 
 A poor negro! He was slave to Parson 
 
344 
 
 Vandyke, and now sleeps in as good a bed as 
 his master one day will. Fate had imposed 
 hard burdens on him; but Death has taken 
 them from his shoulders. 
 
 Who lies prostrate there? 
 
 The head-board tells you. Drinkwater the 
 Newtown school-master, of unclassical mem- 
 ory. Where be his frowns now? Obliterated! 
 Where be the terror his looks inspired ? Alas I 
 remembered only to be mocked at. The very 
 school-boy that once trembled at his nod, 
 spurns him with his foot as he gambols round 
 his grave. 
 
 Who reclines there? 
 
 The toast of the village, the fairest of the 
 maidens. She never left the village but the 
 enamoured swains watched her footsteps till 
 she had gone down the hill, passed through 
 the valley, and could be seen no more. Oh! 
 she was beautiful to look upon! 
 
 And has now worms for her chamber- 
 maids! 
 
 Alas! nothing now of her remains but what 
 the tomb has concealed. She was cropped like 
 a flower in its bloom by the scythe of the 
 mower. Her lover wastes the day in tears, 
 frantic in grief: but alas! what part of his 
 happiness will grief restore? 
 
 To whom does this grave belong? 
 
 A soldier in that grave has taken up his 
 quarters, whose ears will never be disturbed 
 
345 
 
 by the sound of another trumpet, but the 
 trumpet at the day of resurrection. This man, 
 Sir, guarded the baggage-waggons, in the rear 
 of the American army, at the battle of Brandy- 
 wine, and from the big looks he assumed, and 
 the egregious lies he told, in reciting the story, 
 you would be disposed to imagine he had, at 
 least, been the second in command. I knew 
 him at Albany, where he kept a boarding- 
 house. He could tell you who stood their 
 ground, who ran away, and relate how seven 
 stout soldiers were blown up by the bursting 
 of a cohorn.* 
 
 Were these all his battles? He was modest 
 compared to other men of war. 
 
 No, Sir. He thrice very narrowly escaped 
 being scalped; for in his youth he had fought 
 against the Ohios, the Shawanoes, the Hurons, 
 the Utewas, the Nadouessians, and the Mes- 
 segagues. 
 
 O! brave! And he lies here at last? 
 
 Yes, not redoubtable even to a worm : which, 
 I presume, will be the case of Suwarrow, and 
 Arch-Duke Charles, who now spread terror 
 through the world. 
 
 Who lies silent, there? 
 
 A man who, when living, delighted to be 
 heard. He belonged to a club of Jolly Dogs, 
 where it was his constant practice to sit from 
 seven till eleven every night, with a pipe in his 
 
 [* ' Small mortar for throwing grenades.'] 
 
34^ 
 
 left hand, and the handle of a porter-tankard 
 in the other. Thus would he sit smoking and 
 drinking, and bawling out, To order! with the 
 lungs of a jack-ass. But his smoking and 
 drinking incur no reprehension, for it bene- 
 fited rather than injured society, by hastening 
 his death. The calamity was that he threw 
 that money to a bloated landlady which should 
 have purchased food and raiment for an ami- 
 able wife, and four small children. His end 
 may be conjectured. His very coffin was 
 seized by his creditors, and his family went on 
 the parish. 
 
 A jolly dog! truly! And here at last he 
 lies? 
 
 Yes! never more to fill the tap-room with 
 smoke and noise, never more to knock his 
 tankard on the table, and cry landlady! Re- 
 plenish! Never more to fill a chair with his 
 corpulence, and be dubbed President by the 
 porter-washed wits of the club. Never more 
 to carol a bawdy song, and be joined in chorus 
 of the whole room. Where be your songs 
 now, my jolly dog? Your long-winded tales, 
 which you dealt out over your cups? Your 
 egregious lies, which by so often repeating, 
 you believed at last yourself? Where be your 
 horse-laugh now, that would have out-done 
 the ha! ha! of Job's steed of thunder? Now 
 get you to the club, my friend, and tell each 
 jolly dog though he drains his draught of 
 
347 
 
 porter down, to this state must he come; make 
 them laugh loud at that! 
 
 Who reposes in that grave? 
 
 The fat-landlady, who kept the porter- 
 house in Pearl-street,^ and dealt out her 
 draughts of malt to the Club of Jolly Dogs. 
 A dropsy had distended her to the size of one 
 of her porter-buts. 
 
 And into this underground cellar she is 
 thrust at last? 
 
 Yes! after a life passed in administering her 
 porter to drunkards, and scoring down each 
 tankard with a piece of chalk over the chim- 
 ney. Disgrace to the memory of that man who 
 ran in debt with her landladyship, and dis- 
 charged not the reckoning. It was then she 
 would unpack her heart with words. " A 
 "pretty Captain! Yes! A pretty Captain! 
 " truly! He almost drank my cellar dry, and 
 " I never saw the stamp or colour of his coin. 
 " He was a Villian, he must have been a Vil- 
 " lian or he would never impose upon a de- 
 " fenseless widow-woman. But I never had 
 " the courage to ax him for the money. He 
 " swore so, that I shook like a leaf; I trembled 
 " like a rush. And he talked so much about 
 " his ship, and how he took in his small kites 
 " to engage a privateer, that I never doubted 
 " of his honesty. He has paid me indeed. 
 
 * Pearl-street is the longest street in New-York. It has the 
 irregularity of the Strand without its animation. 
 
348 
 
 " Yes, he has paid me with his fore-topsail, 
 " and a fair wind — the wind a little upon the 
 " quarter. But I may catch him yet ; and, 
 " when I do catch him, there's no snakes in 
 " Virginia, if I don't bring his nose to the 
 gridiron." 
 
 I did not fail to visit my old friends on Long 
 Island. Parson Vandyke was afflicted with 
 jaundice, but his wife was still as notable and 
 narrative as ever. Farmer Titus had lost none 
 of his accustomed hospitality; nor was Farmer 
 Moore less kind to the stranger within his 
 gates. Mr. Remsen continued to regale his 
 guests with Madeira, and his sons were in- 
 creasing their ideas under the tuition of my 
 literary friend. Nor were the daughters of 
 these worthy people less lovely, or less ami- 
 able. Joy be to Newtown; Joy to its rosy dam- 
 sels; and may Heaven preserve their charms 
 from decay! 
 
 I remained a week on Long Island, enjoy- 
 ing a renovation of intellectual felicity with 
 Mr. George, when impatient of being without 
 any determined pursuit, I again departed for 
 the southward. It was September, 21, 1801 ; a 
 day I shall ever remember in the annals of my 
 life, as it was a day of separation from a more 
 than fraternal friend, whom I have never 
 since seen. 
 
 I embarked in the passage-boat for Amboy, 
 from whence I travelled in the stage-coach to 
 
349 
 
 Burlington, with a sea faring man, and an 
 Indian trader. I had never met with such 
 blasphemous wretches. Indeed, something 
 might be advanced in extenuation of the sailor, 
 whose mode of life was not favourable to ex- 
 ternal decorum; but the Indian trader was a 
 man of at least three score years, who had 
 mingled with reputable society. 
 
 Five miles from Burlington we crossed An- 
 cocus Creek, and at a public-house on its border 
 stopped to refresh our cattle. The old repro- 
 bate as usual staggered to the bar, and as usual 
 vociferated for a glass of clear brandy. The 
 sailor proposed drinking with him, and an 
 interchange of oaths followed between them to 
 the manifest discomfiture of a family of way- 
 faring Quakers, who were sitting before the 
 fire, and who began to groan in concert. But 
 the old sinner had no regard for the feelings 
 of the devout; he heaped his imprecations on 
 the whole house, because his mandate for a 
 glass of brandy had been neglected by the 
 landlord. Such characters are injurious to 
 society from the contagion of example. I ob- 
 served a boy in the house who laughed with 
 gust at the oaths uttered from the old man's 
 lungs, which were ulcerated with blasphemy. 
 
 Resuming our journey, a few miles brought 
 us to Penhausen-creek, remarkable for its cir- 
 cular form, and transparent stream; and a 
 little beyond it we stopped at a public-house, 
 
3SO 
 
 where a very pretty lively young woman was 
 rocking her babe to sleep. 
 
 Our journey was now soon terminated, for 
 in another hour we reached the Jersey bank 
 of the Delaware, and were conducted in a 
 large boat across the river to Philadelphia, 
 where I separated without regret from my ruf- 
 fian companions. 
 
 The sun was going down, and I sought for 
 lodgings without delay. I proposed myself a 
 boarder to a Quaker woman, whom I saw 
 standing at her door. The good matron told 
 me she was cautious how she took strangers, 
 and inquired my connexions. What, pray, 
 said I, do you charge a week for boarding in 
 your house? She replied, four dollars. I put 
 the money into her hands, and she was no 
 longer importunate on the subject of my con- 
 nexions. 
 
 I did not continue long in my lodgings. 
 The manners of the family petrified me. The 
 melancholy ejaculations of the old woman, 
 who was striving to work out her salvation by 
 groaning, together with the woe-gone counte- 
 nance of her husband, whose head would have 
 furnished the model of a bust for one of the 
 Sages of Greece, conspired to drive me in 
 search of another lodging, and I was received 
 into the house of Madame de Florian, in 
 whose company I wanted no domestic enter- 
 tainment. 
 
351 
 
 The name of Madame de Florian announces 
 her to be a French woman. She lived in 
 North third-street, with her two daughters, of 
 whom one was between seventeen and eight- 
 een, the other three years younger, and a son 
 of five. My introduction to this family was 
 curious. 
 
 At Fouquefs gardens,* rambling one after- 
 noon in the shade, puffing vulcanoes of smoke 
 from my segar, and indulging the most splen- 
 did reveries; I suddenly came upon Madame 
 de Florian and her two daughters, who were 
 drinking peaceably their coffee in one of the 
 alcoves, while the little boy was fondling a 
 lap-dog on the grass. 
 
 The spectacle of this interesting groupe sus- 
 pended my steps, which being observed by the 
 child, the little rogue danced towards me, 
 and insisted upon having my segar. 
 
 The mother and sisters rebuked the child, 
 but I instantly delivered my cigar to him and 
 bowing, was about to pursue my ramble round 
 the gardens, when Madame de Florian, with 
 that grace of manner so peculiar to a French 
 woman, accosted me with Pent etre, Monsieur 
 nous fera Vhoneur de prendre une tasse de 
 cajfe? 
 
 I bowed my acquiescence, and seated my- 
 
 [*" Between loth and iith, and Arch and Race Streets, 
 where mead and ice-cream were sold" — 1800-1818. Watson's 
 Annals (Hazard), III, 400.] 
 
352 
 
 self next the eldest daughter, who welcomed 
 my approach with a smile of enchantment. 
 And now all that I had read of a Mahometan 
 Paradise rushed into my mind. The garden 
 of Monsieur Fouquet was the blissful region 
 and Mademoiselle de Florian the houri. 
 
 It is to Mademoiselle de Florian and a few 
 other of her countrywomen, that the young 
 ladies of Philadelphia owe their present grace- 
 ful mien. The revolution in France produced 
 a revolution in the walk of the Philadelphia 
 damsels. Formerly the American ladies did 
 not sacrifice to elegance in their walk; or, 
 more properly speaking, they were without a 
 model to form themselves upon. But when 
 the revolution drove so many of the Gallic 
 damsels to the banks of the Delaware, the 
 American girls blushed at their own awk- 
 wardness ; and each strove to copy that swim- 
 ming air, that nonchalance, that ease and ap- 
 parent unconsciousness of being observed, 
 which characterized the French young ladies 
 as they passed through the streets.* Men and 
 
 [*Dr. Schoepf observes, Vol. I, 129-130, "Die Musik war 
 vor diesem lezten Kriege noch ganz in ihrer Kindheit. . . . 
 Wahrend des Kriegs und nach demselben aber, hat, durch die 
 von den verschiedenen Truppen zuriickgebliebenen Musik- 
 kundigen, sich der Geschmack weiter verbreitet, und man hat 
 nunmehro in den grossten Stadten Concerte und mit volistandi- 
 ger Musik besezte Balle. Fiir Tanzmeister hat Frankreich ge- 
 sorgt." Cf. Robin, New Travels, &c.,— " Our military music, 
 of which they are extravagantly fond, is then played for their 
 diversion. At such times, officers, soldiers, Americans, of both 
 sexes, all intermingle and dance together."] 
 
353 
 
 women ran to their windows, and involun- 
 tarily exclaimed, Oh! heaven! look at that 
 girl ! how beautifully she walks 1 
 
 A spirit of imitation was now kindled, and 
 as both men and women never appear more 
 ridiculous than when they affect qualties to 
 which they have no pretensions, many a Phila- 
 delphia lady provoked the malice of laughter, 
 when she strained every nerve to command the 
 homage of admiration. Some sprawled, some 
 kicked, some frisked, and it is recorded that 
 one girl in despair threw herself into the 
 Schuylkill. But, then, on the other hand, 
 many polished their natural ease into elegance. 
 
 An American girl commonly throws me into 
 a fit of profound thought, and to think in the 
 presence of a woman is an insult to her sex. 
 The vision of a French girl on the contrary, 
 banishes all abstraction from my thoughts; 
 and the natural tendency of my English mind 
 to dulness is improved into vivacity. 
 
 I accompanied Madame de Florian and 
 her family home; nor did I discover without 
 secret rapture that this lady took boarders. 
 She confined her number to two; there was 
 nobody now in the house but one old gentle- 
 man, for a young officer who had lately occu- 
 pied une chambre garnie, was gone to Saint 
 Domingo. There was consequently space left 
 for another, but how to get possession of this 
 enviable spot without an introduction was the 
 
354 
 
 rub. At length, the present lodger made his 
 appearance in the shape of Monsieur Lartigue, 
 — whom I had accompanied once from Phila- 
 delphia to Charleston in the packet. Not 
 more astonished stood Hamlet, at seeing his 
 royal father, than I on beholding Monsieur 
 Lartigue; but our mutual astonishment was 
 soon converted into joy, and the old man fell 
 on my neck weeping like a school-boy. What 
 coxcomb was it observed the French had no 
 feeling? 
 
 The scene was affecting; and I could per- 
 ceive the eye of my Houri brimful of tears. 
 
 I desired Mr. Lartigue to introduce me to 
 Madame de Florian and her daughters; their 
 countenances brightened; my proposal of be- 
 coming a lodger was accepted with, You do us 
 honour! and when the porter brought my 
 trunks, I heard Adelaide direct him what 
 room to carry them into, with a kind of Saint- 
 Preuxish emotion. 
 
 Month of happiness that I passed under the 
 same roof with Adelaide de Florian! Happi- 
 ness never to return beneath the cloudy sky 
 that now frowns on me as I look towards it. 
 
 At the Indian Queen, in fifth-street, (every 
 sign in the United States, is either an Indian 
 Queen, or a Spread Eagle) I sometimes 
 lounged away an hour with some young men 
 from Charleston. " Where do you board," 
 they all asked me, — " With a French lady." 
 
355 
 
 " Some Creole, I suppose. — Why not take 
 your quarters up here? I hate French cus- 
 " toms. They never drink tea unless they are 
 " sick." 
 
 And what were the customs of these young 
 gentlemen who plumed themselves on their 
 knowledge of mankind, and their travelled 
 air? When not engaged with eating, they 
 were sitting in the street before the door of 
 the Indian Queen, drinking punch cooled 
 with ice, and obscured in volumes of tobacco 
 smoke. It is true, their discourse did not turn 
 on bullocks. But they were either laughing 
 over their nocturnal adventures in Mulatto 
 Alley, at Charleston; or recommending each 
 other to different brothels at Philadelphia. 
 Nor was the stream of their conversation ever 
 diverted, unless some young lady (who, find- 
 ing the pavement blockaded by their chairs, 
 was compelled to walk in the carriage-road,) 
 called forth the exclamation of " That's a fine 
 " girl! So is that coming up the street now. 
 " There are no snakes if Philadelphia does not 
 " beat Charleston hollow! See there again, at 
 "the tailor's window. Harry! I'll go over 
 and get measured for a coat to-morrow." * 
 
 At this juncture (it was a beautiful moon- 
 light night) an American girl from an oppo- 
 site window sung, with uplifted sashes, a song 
 to a circle of ladies and gentlemen in the room. 
 This custom is very prevalent at Philadelphia 
 
 [* Cf. Philip Vickers Fithian, Journal &c. 1767-1774. p. 260.] 
 
3S6 
 
 and New-York; and it evinces there is still 
 left in those towns some simplicity of manners. 
 
 The voice was melodious ; the shake * ex- 
 cellent. And when the song was concluded, 
 the lads from Charleston gave it their ap- 
 plause. Some were in high raptures. En- 
 core! Encora! Bravo! Bravissimol fol- 
 lowed close upon the warbling. 
 
 In some countries this insolence would have 
 been resented. The gentlemen would have 
 rushed down stairs, and exchanged a pass or 
 two with the street critics. Here it was widely 
 different. The ladies continued to warble in 
 succession; the Carolinians grew tired of ap- 
 plauding; and at length, each crossed his arms 
 and contented himself with puffing smoke 
 from his segar. 
 
 Not being able to obtain any employment 
 at Philadelphia, I thought it best to embark 
 for Baltimore, and I took my passage in the 
 Newcastle packet. The wind was fair, the 
 sky serene, the water smooth, and we passed 
 Chester and Wilmington with great rapidity. 
 
 A good dinner on board the Packet, and the 
 conversation of a motley groupe, enlivened my 
 spirits; and I provoked the laughter of the 
 master of a ship lying at Newcastle, whose 
 fore-top-sail was loose, and whose destination 
 was London. How my heart danced at the 
 sound of that name ! How my fancy conjured 
 
 [*'In music— a melodic embellishment; a trill.'] 
 
357 
 
 up the Thames, and the spires of the city to 
 my view! How delectably did I behold my- 
 self seated in the bosom of my friends, and 
 how appalled was I when these illusions van- 
 ished, and I perceived before me the shores 
 of Pennsylvania and New-Jersey! Oh! if 
 these are prejudices, let me hug them to my 
 breast, and far away be the philosophy that 
 would deprive me of my feelings. 
 
 We landed at Newcastle, and were bounded 
 in two coaches to French-town, which is a 
 journey of sixteen miles. We stopped to bait 
 our cattle at Glasgow, and at French-town 
 found a surly landlord, and sorry accommoda- 
 tions. Our number was sixteen ; and for six- 
 teen passengers there were only six beds ; hence 
 the large beds lodged three, and the small beds 
 two passengers. For my part there being a 
 good fire, I proposed to sit up all night and 
 make an Indian file with our feet to the fen- 
 der; but sleep overcame me, and I retired to 
 bed, undisturbed by the nasal trump of my 
 bed-fellow who snorted like a horse. It is not 
 unworthy of remark, that the landlord would 
 not suffer cards to be played in his house ; and 
 that the negro-girl, who waited at supper, 
 wearing a man's hat; a Quaker in company 
 aspired to be witty by calling her Ccesar. 
 
 The following morning we all embarked 
 again for Baltimore; * and on the passage a 
 
 [* The Chesapeake and Delaware Canal was begun in 1804, 
 
3S8 
 
 Yankee diverted the company by producing a 
 favourite cat that he had stolen from the land- 
 lord, (who had refused him a pack of cards) 
 and making the poor animal eat a yard or 
 more of tobacco. His method was ingenious. 
 He placed the cat over a chair, and confining 
 forcibly her feet, untwisted a roll of tobacco ; 
 the cat in the agony of pain snapped at any 
 thing that was offered her, and the Mounte- 
 bank Traveller ministered his tobacco. 
 
 We dined again on the water. Among the 
 passengers was a pretty, modest, blushing 
 maiden of fifteen, whose manners were 
 not inelegant; but it is somewhat curious 
 that whenever she wanted the salt, or 
 mustard, she begged some one to shove it to 
 her. 
 
 Pool's Island is half way to Baltimore, 
 which we passed about noon : but in the even- 
 ing we got round Fell's Point, and at eight 
 secured our vessel at Bowly's Wharf ; having 
 Federal-Hill on our opposite side. 
 
 It was the opinion of the ancient philoso- 
 phers that nature endowed man with language 
 to express his wants ; but this notion has been 
 exploded by the more enlightened moderns; 
 for it is an observation founded on every day's 
 experience, that no man is so likely to get his 
 wants redressed as he who keeps them secret; 
 
 but the work was not completed until 1829. Cf. Scharf, Hist, 
 of Maryland, Vol. II, p. 524.] 
 
359 
 
 the disclosure of poverty exciting only the in- 
 solence of contempt. 
 
 The true use of speech, therefore, is not 
 to express our wants but to conceal them; 
 and in conformity with this maxim, I kept 
 it a profound secret, on my landing at Balti- 
 more, that I had very little money left in my 
 pocket. I accompanied with affected gaiety 
 a young fellow to the city of Strasburgh* 
 who told me he always lodged there, and ex- 
 tolled the house for its convenience of accomo- 
 dation, and the landlord for the suavity of his 
 manners. 
 
 Mr. Wyant received us with a smile of wel- 
 come, and supper being ready, ushered us into 
 a room, where twenty guests were sitting at 
 table, who appeared to be mutes ; for no man 
 uttered a syllable, but each seemed by his 
 looks to have just come out from the cave of 
 Trophonius. 
 
 During my sojournment at Baltimore, a 
 cheese of no ordinary dimensions was landed 
 from a vessel to be transported to Washington. 
 It was a present from the farmers' wives and 
 daughters of Cheshire, in Massachusetts, to 
 the President of the United States; and was 
 entrusted to the pious care of one Mr. Leland, 
 2l Baptist Minister, who is said to have smoked 
 
 [* The tavern seems to have been called ' City of Stras- 
 burgh.'] 
 
360 
 
 his pipe in solemn silence the whole of his 
 travels both by land and by water.* 
 
 I know not the weight of the " greatest 
 " cheese in the world," but it was I believe 
 equal in circumference to the hind-most wheel 
 of a waggon. Its extraordinary dimensions in- 
 duced some wicked wag of a federalist to call 
 it the Mammoth Cheese; and by this name it is 
 known throughout the States of the Union. 
 
 The curiosity of the inhabitants of Balti- 
 more was universally excited; men, women, 
 and children flocked to see the Mammoth 
 Cheese. The taverns were deserted ; the gravy 
 soup cooled on the table, and the cats unre-* 
 buked revelled on the custards and cream. 
 Even grey-bearded shop-keepers neglected 
 their counters, and participated in the Mam- 
 moth infatuation. 
 
 The cheese was drawn in a waggon to the 
 city of Washington by four horses richly ca- 
 parisoned, which were furnished the pious 
 Mr. Leland, by the Republicans of Baltimore; 
 and the President of the United States re- 
 ceived the present with every polite acknowl- 
 edgment, and invited the Republican Mem- 
 bers of the Senate and House of Representa- 
 tives to tender it the homage of their respects, 
 and the respects of their homage. 
 
 [*John Leland, 1754-1841, who lived in Virginia from 1776 
 to 1790, and is Said to have baptized 700 people there. The 
 cheese weighed 1,450 pounds.] 
 
3^1 
 
 I had advertised in the Baltimore Paper for 
 the place of domestic Tutor, and one morning, 
 while I was standing before the door of the 
 ' city of Strasburgh, the bar-keeper brought me 
 a note very carefully sealed. I eagerly took it 
 from his hand, impressed with an idea that it 
 was sent me by some opulent merchant who 
 wanted an instructor for his children; and 
 already was I delighting my fancy with the 
 rewards of knowledge, when on opening the 
 note it produced what Rabelais calls the most 
 gloomy of all moments, the payment of a land- 
 lord's reckoning. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " According to the custom of the house, Mr. 
 " Wyant has requested me to send in your bill. 
 " To eight days board, at ()s, ^.d. £3 14^. Sd. 
 
 " I am, for Mr. Wyant, John Kellen'' 
 
 I called Mr. Wyant into a private room. 
 He obeyed the summons with a true German 
 smile. Wait, Sir, said I, a few days. He 
 started back, rolling wildly his eyes. " Mine 
 Got! " cried he, " if I wait a few days, how 
 can I go to market? " I will give you, said I, 
 my note of hand. Note of hand! cried he. 
 Mine Got! I have a drawer full of notes of 
 hand. Well, said I, pray leave your damnable 
 face and I will pay you the cash tomorrow. 
 
 I had been informed that Mr. Burr was at 
 
362 
 
 the Federal City; and the Federal City, as 
 one of our Travellers in America solemnly re- 
 marks, is only forty-three miles from Balti- 
 more. I was determined, therefore, to give 
 him a missive by the post; and my missive 
 was a la Quin. 
 
 Sir, I am at Baltimore. 
 
 The next mail brought me a letter from Mr. 
 Burr, which dissipated the clouds that obscured 
 the horizon of my life. He did not make an- 
 swer, like Quin's correspondent. Stay there, 
 and be d — d; but in a letter breathing kind- 
 ness, and protestations of friendship, desired 
 me to send him the estimate of the expences 
 of my late travels, which he proposed imme- 
 diately to reimburse. 
 
 I retired to my room, and computed, with 
 diplomatic accuracy, my unavoidable ex- 
 pences on the road, from the day I crossed the 
 Hudson till I descended the Treasury -%t2^.TS 
 at the Imperial City. The answer of the Vice- 
 President will evince that he did not think 
 himself overcharged. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 You Men of Letters are the worst calcula- 
 tors in the world. I am persuaded I only dis- 
 charge a just debt, when I enclose double your 
 amount. 
 
 Accept the assurances of my regard, 
 
 Aaron Burr. 
 
3^3 
 
 At this letter my pride took alarm. It pro- 
 duced from me an answer, and a restitution of 
 half the bills. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 As I cannot possibly descend from the re- 
 spectability of a Creditor to the degradation, 
 if I may be allowed the expression, of an Ele- 
 emosynarist; I decline receiving more than 
 half of what you remitted me. 
 I am. 
 
 With profound respect, &c. 
 
 Being proffered a situation in a part of Vir- 
 ginia I had not visited, and having it in my 
 power to journey at my leisure by the friend- 
 ship of the Vice-President, I departed with- 
 out regret from Baltimore, on foot and alone. 
 
 It was the latter part of March when I left 
 the once-flourishing town of Baltimore * and 
 again directed my steps towards the imperial 
 city. But my mind was somewhat altered. 
 Experience had cured me of my illusions. I 
 was no longer elated with the hope of being 
 lifted above the crowd ; but my ambition was 
 contented with the harmless drudgery of 
 teaching children their rudiments. 
 
 After walking a few miles, I turned into a 
 wood to call at the house of a brother-peda- 
 
 [* Trade fell off after the establishment of peace in 
 Europe. Course of Maryland exports : 1799, $16,299,609 ; 1801, 
 $12,767,530; 1802, $7,914,225. Scharf, Vol. II, p. 604.] 
 
3^4 
 
 gogue, who had invited me the preceding 
 evening at a public-house, to visit him in his 
 literary retirement. Boys and girls rent the 
 air with their acclamations as I approached 
 the dwelling; but the School-master's daugh- 
 ter, a lusty lass of nineteen, escaped into the 
 woods, and I could only catch a glimpse of her 
 flying across the green. I was not Apollo or I 
 should have followed this Daphne. 
 
 The board placed above Mr. Macdonald's 
 sylvan Academy diverted me not a little. 
 
 Anthony Macdonald teaches boys and girls 
 "their grammar tongue; also Geography 
 
 "terrestial and celestial. Old hats made as 
 
 " good as new." 
 
 But Mr. Macdonald was not at home; his 
 daughter had fled and I trod back the path 
 to the main-road, where I sought an asylum 
 under the roof of the Widow Smith, who re- 
 gales the woe-begone Traveller with whiskey; 
 and 
 
 " Where the gaunt mastiff growling at the gate, 
 " Assaults the stranger whom he longs to eat." 
 
 Old age is garrulous, and the Widow did not 
 want for talk. She admired that Miss Mac- 
 donald instead of staying in the house to re- 
 ceive a stranger, should run into the woods. 
 For her part she was never scared at folks, 
 however well-dressed; and yet all her life she 
 had lived in the country. 
 
 Pursuing my journey, I arrived at Elk- 
 
3^5 
 
 Ridge Landing, where I supped at a genteel 
 tavern with the hostess and her sister, who are 
 remarkable for the elegance of their conversa- 
 tion, and the amenity of their manners. I 
 found the old Manor-house of Charlotte 
 Smith lying on the table, of which the con- 
 cluding part seemed to have been moistened 
 with tears of sensibility. 
 
 The next day I resumed my walk ; refresh- 
 ing myself at Spurrier's, carousing at Denfs, 
 and sleeping at Drummond's; three public- 
 houses on the road, which the Traveller passes 
 in succession. The weather was somewhat 
 warm in the middle of the day; but this only 
 made the springs more grateful, at whose 
 waters I stopped to allay the thirst produced 
 by walking. 
 
 Rousseau in enumerating the pleasures of 
 pedestrian traveling, makes no mention of the 
 joy with which the solitary walker beholds a 
 spring on the road ; from which omission I am 
 inclined to believe that the foot-travels of the 
 eloquent Swiss were performed round his 
 chamber. 
 
 The next morning proceeding forward, I 
 reached Bladensburgh before the going down 
 of the sun ; and at night-fall to my great satis- 
 faction I entered the imperial city. The moon 
 was rising from the woods, and I surveyed the 
 Capitol by its light, meditating on the future 
 state of the Western Empire ; the clash of in- 
 
366 
 
 terests, the commotions of Demagogues, and 
 the disunion of the States! But dumb be the 
 Oracle of Prediction! 
 
 Congress was assembled at Washington, and 
 I was constant in my attendance on the Senate 
 and the House of Representatives. The Sen- 
 ate Chamber is by far the most superb room 
 in the Capitol, but the House of Representa- 
 tives is a detached and temporary building. 
 Yet, I loved best to visit the House of Repre- 
 sentatives ; there seemed to be so much energy 
 and freedom of debate. It is unknown I pre- 
 sume to few of my readers that the Vice- 
 President of the United States is President of 
 the Senate. Mr. Burr was presiding in the 
 Chair, and no man knew better the routine of 
 the House, or how to acquit himself with more 
 dignity than he. 
 
 I watched an opportunity to make the Vice- 
 President my salutations as he came out of the 
 Capitol. I remembered the advice. which old 
 Polonius gave his son when he was about to 
 travel and I was then travelling myself. 
 
 " The friends thou hast, and their adoption try'd, 
 " Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel." 
 
 The Vice-President demonstrated no little 
 pleasure to see me, and his chariot being at 
 the steps of the Capitol, he took me home with 
 him to dine. I forget how many Members of 
 Congress were present at the dinner; but, 
 
3^7 
 
 though Republicans, I did not think they had 
 all an equal voice, for some spoke much louder 
 than others. 
 
 A reduction had already taken place of the 
 judiciary system of the United States; that is, 
 the superfluous Judges were dismissed, who 
 under the preceding Administration had un- 
 necessarily augmented the expences of civil 
 Government; and the object of the Republican 
 party in the House of Representatives was to 
 obtain a repeal of the Internal Taxes; com- 
 prehending excises, stamps, auctions, licenses, 
 carriages and refined sugars. 
 
 The most eloquent in debate was Mr. Ran- 
 dolph. He was Demosthenes, but Demos- 
 thenes who had sacrificed to the Graces. He 
 spoke full an hour for the repeal of the tax on 
 domestic distilled liquors; that is, whiskey, 
 and peach,* and apple brandy. At the con- 
 clusion of the debate the Speaker very 
 solemnly exclaimed, " Those who are for the 
 repeal are to say aye! and they who are against 
 it are to say no." The affirmative monosyl- 
 lable immediately resounded from every quar- 
 ter of the building. Aye ! Aye ! Aye ! followed 
 
 [* Cf. Castiglioni, Viaggio negli Stati Uniti. Milan. 1790, 
 I, 217, — " Dove si fa molto uso dell' acquavite di pesco, e della 
 birra di Persimon. I Peschi sono tanto abbondanti nella Virgi- 
 nia, che spesse volte tagliando un bosco di Pini, questi alberi 
 fruttiferi, che prima non potevano moltiplicare per I'ombra, vi 
 crescono ben tosto in tanta quantita, che in breve tempo co- 
 prono tutto il terreno."] 
 
368 
 
 in rapid succession; upon which the Speaker 
 with much gravity proclaimed, " The ayes 
 " have it! The Bill has passed." 
 
 I took great interest in this debate, for I 
 consider whiskey very cheering; but I thought 
 it curious that a Member from Virginia 
 should stand up for the repeal of the tax upon 
 that liquor, which now it is become cheaper, 
 will throw many of his countrymen off their 
 feetl 
 
 Having amused myself a few days at the 
 imperial city, I rose with the sun, and pur- 
 sued my journey along the banks of the Po- 
 tomac. About nine in the morning I reached 
 the bridge at the Little Falls; a bridge that 
 raises the admiration of an American, but pro- 
 vokes only the contempt of an European.'^ In 
 fact art in America would not detain an intel- 
 ligent Traveller one hour; but nature would 
 perhaps enchain his attention for years. 
 
 Near the bridge at the Little Falls my jour- 
 ney was suspended by the rain, and I found a 
 reception in the tavern of Mr. Slimner, a 
 German, who at the age of threescore was 
 smitten by a young English woman, whom he 
 
 [* " Of the same kind as the bridge of Merrymack, near 
 Newbury-port, in Massachusetts : the same architect was em- 
 ployed in both; ... an immense quantity of timber and 
 iron wasted on it." La Rochefoucauld, Vol. II, p. 334- " Main 
 Rath also ist die Gelehrten und Kiinstler bleiben zu Hause." 
 Der Freistaat von Nordamerika in seinem neuesten Zustand. 
 Dietrich von Biilow. Berlin. 1797. II, 107.] 
 
3^9 
 
 had taken for his wife, and who had brought 
 him a child; a child the darling of his dotage, 
 which he ludicrously termed " his little young 
 woman cut shorter." 
 
 The rain not remitting its violence, I was 
 obliged to pass the night under the roof of this 
 fond couple, whom, I, however, left at an 
 early hour the next morning to prosecute my 
 journey; purposing to take the more circuitous 
 road of the Great Falls of the Potomac. 
 
 I pass over in silence the common occur- 
 rences of the road; the waggoners who re- 
 turned no answer to my interrogations, and 
 the plantation-curs that disturbed my reveries 
 with their barking. About noon I reached 
 the cross roads, and taking to the right, I 
 could every minute hear more distinctly the 
 roar of the Great Falls. At length I came to 
 a spacious stream called " Difficult Run "; an 
 appellation derived from the difficulty in 
 crossing it. But no place could be more ro- 
 mantic. On one bank towered a majestic 
 mountain, from the side of which rocks hang- 
 ing in fragments menaced the Traveller with 
 destruction; while others that had tumbled 
 into the stream interrupted its course, produc- 
 ing a tumultuous roar that absorbed the cry 
 of the water fowl hovering over the waves. 
 
 I was in suspense whether to ford this Run, 
 or wait for a guide on its bank, when I de- 
 scried two boys on the opposite shore who 
 
370 
 
 obeyed my call with alacrity; leaping from 
 rock to rock till they reached the spot where 
 I stood. With the assistance of a pole they 
 conducted me to the opposite bank, where I 
 learned that one of my young guides was 
 called Basil Hurdle , and the other Jack 
 Miller. 
 
 I now ascended a hill that led to the Great 
 Falls, and on a sudden my steps were sus- 
 pended by the conflict of elements, the strife 
 of nature. I beheld the course of a large river 
 abruptly obstructed by rocks, over which it 
 was breaking with a tremendous roar; while 
 the foam of the water seemed ascending to 
 the clouds, and the shores that confined it to 
 tremble at the convolution. I gazed for some 
 time in silent awe at this war of elements, 
 when having recovered from my admiration, I 
 could not help exclaiming to the Great Maker 
 of Heaven and Earth, " Lord! What is man 
 "that thou art mindful of him; or the son 
 " of man, that thou regardest him! " 
 
 For several hours I continued gazing at 
 these Falls, lost in musing over the grandest 
 object the Universe can supply; and when I 
 beheld the wilderness around me, I could not 
 but be impressed with the idea that nature 
 delighted to perform her wonders in the se- 
 crecy of solitude. 
 
 The obstruction of these Falls to boats con- 
 veying the produce of the interior country to 
 
371 
 
 Alexandria and the city of Washington, has 
 been obviated with unremitted labour by the 
 construction of locks; and large boats ascend 
 and descend without much difficulty. Of 
 these locks it may be expected that I should 
 give some account; but after the noble spec- 
 tacle of the Falls, I had no disposition to ex- 
 amine an Aqueduct devised probably by the 
 incitement of avarice or luxury. When I 
 journeyed fifteen miles out of the beaten road, 
 it was not art but nature that called me. 
 
 A little below the Falls, on the bank of the 
 Potomac, stand a few scattered buildings, 
 which form a kind of hamlet called Charlotte- 
 ville. The first settler in this savage wilder- 
 ness was the Lady of General Lee, from whose 
 christian name the place takes its appellation.* 
 At a house of entertainment kept by Widow 
 Myers, I was accommodated with a supper 
 and a bed. This buxom Widow was by per- 
 suasion a Methodist, and possessed of con- 
 siderable property. 
 
 Into what part of the world has not Love 
 found his way? The goat herd in Virgil, dis- 
 covered him to be an inhabitant of caverns; 
 and the Widow Myers acknowledged his 
 power in the Wilderness of the Potomac Falls. 
 The muscular form of a young Scotchman 
 enchained the glances of the pious Widow; 
 whose eyes seemed to say to the brawny 
 
 [* This seems not to be fact.] 
 
372 
 
 Caledonian, " Stay me with flaggons, comfort 
 " me with apples ; for I am sick of love! " 
 
 On leaving the Great Falls of the Potomac 
 I was followed by a dog, whose attendance I 
 rather encouraged than repulsed. I was tired 
 of travelling alone, and I wanted a companion. 
 
 An European who has confined his travels 
 to his own country, can have but a very im- 
 perfect idea of the forest scenery of America. 
 His imagination familiar only with open and 
 clear grounds, will scarce form an adequate 
 conception of the endless and almost impen- 
 etrable woods in the Western Continent: It 
 was through such woods that I now journeyed 
 with an accession of cheerfulness from the 
 company of my dog; and smoking tobacco in 
 my march, with which I never went unpro- 
 vided. 
 
 I never remember to have felt a more per- 
 fect exemption from care than in my journey 
 from the Potomac Falls. I rioted in health 
 and I walked forward oblitus meorum et 
 obliviscendus ab illis. I embraced the Uni- 
 verse as my country, and it was wholly in- 
 different to me where I terminated my pil- 
 grimage ; for whether I ended my days in the 
 wilds of the Potomac, or the close of Salisbury, 
 the earth and its bands would have been about 
 me for ever. 
 
 I eat my dinner in a log-house on the road. 
 It was kept by a small planter of the name of 
 
373 
 
 Homer. Such a tavern would have raised the 
 thunder and lightning of anger in the page of 
 my brother travellers in America. But the 
 lamented scarcity of American inns is easily 
 accounted for. In a country where every 
 private house is a temple dedicated to hos- 
 pitality, and open alike to Travellers of every 
 description, ought it to excite surprize that 
 so few good taverns are to be found? When, 
 therefore, the Travellers through the United 
 States, curse in their pages of calamity the 
 musquitoes, and fleas, and bugs, and ticks that 
 interrupt their slumbers, they make the eulo- 
 gium of American hospitality.* 
 
 The inhabitants of these woods are remark- 
 ably prolific; they obey at least one of the 
 divine injunctions, — they increase and multi- 
 ply their species. Mr. Homer was out fell- 
 ing the lofty trees of the forest, but Mrs. 
 Homer was sitting by the fire, surrounded by 
 half a dozen girls and boys and giving a 
 bosom of maternal exuberance to a child she 
 held in her arms. A curly-pated boy and girl 
 were eating their dinner on the hearth; it 
 seemed to be short commons ; for after thrust- 
 
 [*Cf. Wansey's Journal, p. iii,— "We entered the city 
 [Philadelphia] by Front Street, and arrived at the city Tavern 
 in South-second-street, about noon. I slept at this house two 
 nights and met with my old tormentors, the bugs." — The author 
 has reference particularly to Isaac Weld, who left the United 
 States 'without the slightest wish to revisit the American 
 continent.'] 
 
374 
 
 ing their fingers into the platter, they licked 
 them with great gusto. Come, you eat the 
 sop, cried the boy, the egg belongs to me. 
 No it don't, said the girl, for mammy's hen 
 laid it. 
 
 Leaving the hut of Mr. Homer, I walked 
 vigorously forward, indulging the hope I 
 should get to Frying-Pan before night. But 
 before dusk I found myself bewildered in 
 the woods, whose solitude was rendered more 
 melancholy from the cry of the owl. I had 
 given myself up for lost, and was taking the 
 flint from my pocket to kindle a fire, and pass 
 the night under a tree, when the sound of the 
 axe chopping wood rejoiced my hearing. 
 Not more delightful was sleep ever to the 
 weary, or water to the thirsty, than the sound 
 to my ear. 
 
 Guided by the noise of the axe, I got to a 
 tobacco plantation; but I had scarce leaped 
 the fence when a couple of huge dogs assailed 
 me, barking, advancing and retreating, all in 
 a breath. Now, thought I, if these curs were 
 to devour me, what an ignominious death 
 would terminate my pilgrimage on earth. 
 Fear is not only an ignoble, but dangerous 
 passion; and, had I turned and endeavoured 
 to escape from these blood-hounds, it is a 
 hundred to one but I had been seized in that 
 part where honour is said to be lodged. 
 
 I, therefore, stood my ground, and called 
 
375 
 
 lustily to the house. My cry was not unheard ; 
 the door was opened, and a lad advanced with 
 a light, which he had fixed in a calabash. 
 
 The way, my friend, if you please, to Fry- 
 ing -Pan. 
 
 Frying-Pan! 'Tis a right difficult road 
 " to find in the dark. You must keep along 
 " the worm-fence — Jowlerf begone — hush 
 " your mouth, there, you Rover/ — begone, I 
 " say, you bloody. — You must keep strait 
 " along the worm (i. e. crooked) fence, till 
 " you come to a barn — but I would advise 
 you to avoid the brush-wood about the barn, 
 " because of a nest of rattlesnakes — and the 
 " old one is mighty savage. — Well — when you 
 " have left the barn on your right, take the 
 " path that leads into the woods, and keep the 
 ^' main road the whole way, without turning 
 either to the right or left, till you come to 
 ^' the track of the wheel — then cross right over 
 " into the next wood, and that will bring you 
 " to Frying-Pan Run — and, then, you could 
 " not go wrong if you was to try at it." * 
 
 My friend, will you favour me with a 
 draught of water? 
 
 Yes, sure. Come walk with me into the 
 
 [* Thomas Anburey, Letter 63, Feb. 12, 1779 (Vol. II, p. 
 338-39) gives at length similar directions furnished him, and 
 remarks, " It requires the most retentive memory to be able 
 to proceed at all, if unaccustomed to the roads." The Boeotian 
 sometimes knows no better, and again he twits the foreigner 
 of condescension.] 
 
376 
 
 house. You Rover, hush your noise, you 
 negur. — Jonioler! if you don't hush, I'll make 
 you rally for something. 
 
 On entering the log-house, I found a man 
 sitting with his wife and five children, before 
 a blazing fire of wood. My reader, do you 
 not envy me the sensations with which the 
 strings of my heart vibrated on beholding 
 this domestic groupe? The weary Traveller, 
 after losing his way in the awful woods of 
 America, stoops to enter at the door of a little 
 log-house, and happy to be once more in the 
 society of his fellow-creatures, finds the roof 
 under which he has got shelter large enough 
 for his heart's desire. 
 
 Hospitality is the prominent feature in the 
 character of a Virginian: and I had a presenti- 
 ment that I was housed for the night. When 
 I had drunk my water, which tasted the more 
 delicious, from being administered to me by 
 a fine girl of seventeen, (she had two pitch- 
 balls stuck in her head for eyes,) I rose to 
 depart; but the man of the house accosted 
 me, saying, " Be content, I pray you, and tarry 
 " here all night; the day is grown to an end: 
 " to-morrow I will send my son to put you in 
 " the way." 
 
 The children now considered me as one of 
 the family, and moving their chairs, made 
 room for me to come within their circle. 
 
 My dogs, said the man, gave you a rally. 
 
377 
 
 But I reckon it was the little dog you brought 
 with you, that made them so savage. 
 
 Oh I my! what a pretty little lap Foist, cried 
 the eldest girl. Indeed, indeed, he's right 
 beautiful. 
 
 Mary, said a boy about nine years old, he's 
 for all the world like the little dog that Jack 
 Hatchet bought of 'Squire Carter's driver. 
 He's spotted just like him. I'll lay you he 
 came out of the same bitch. 
 
 Do hush, Bill, said Mary. The gentleman 
 brought the dog with him from England. 
 
 An Englishman once, said the eldest son, 
 borrowed a dog of me, and he was ashamed 
 to return him. He carried him to England. 
 If I was ever to go there, I would make a 
 point to find the dog out. How big. Sir, is 
 England? 
 
 Nearly, Sir, as big as the State of Virginia. 
 
 (Oh! Mary, said the next sister, what a 
 great big place!) 
 
 Then, said the young man, I should give 
 it up for a bad job. I did not reckon that 
 England had been bigger than Prince William 
 County. 
 
 Supper (that is tea) was now got ready; nor 
 was it without a grateful emotion that I be- 
 held the mother of this worthy family unlock 
 her Sunday cupboard, and hand her eldest 
 daughter part of a loaf of sugar for the repast. 
 
 Wilmot, the eldest son, now departed. I 
 
378 
 
 discovered afterwards that he was courting 
 the daughter of Mr. Strang eways^ neighbour, 
 whom he never failed to visit after the labour 
 of the day. It was plain he was a lover by 
 the care he took in adorning his person ; chang- 
 ing his leggings * for a pair of Philadelphia- 
 made boots, and his frock for a fashionable 
 coatee.^ The first character of love is a diffi- 
 dence of pleasing. 
 
 After supper we again drew round the fire. 
 — I had for some time perceived an unusual 
 blaze in the chimney; but supposing it to come 
 from an oven, I said not a word. 
 
 At length the good woman exclaimed, The 
 plague! there's our chimney on fire again. 
 We must pull down the rubbish, or we shall 
 get no peace. 
 
 Mr. Strangeways now rose with great com- 
 posure, and seizing a large stafif, went out to 
 the back of the chimney, where he raked away 
 the rubbish ; while Mary, catching up a gourd, 
 filled it thrice with water, and helped to ex- 
 tinguish the conflagration. 
 
 As the night advanced, I could not but 
 meditate upon the place my worthy host de- 
 signed for my repose. 
 
 I formed a hundred conjectures. He surely 
 would not cherish me in the bosom of his 
 numerous family? And yet I could perceive 
 only one room in the house. 
 
 * Indian stockings. 
 
 t Coatee is the American for a short coat. 
 
379 
 
 There were three beds in the room. Of 
 these I discovered that the back one belonged 
 to the two eldest girls ; for while Mr. Strange- 
 ways, his wife, and I were yawning in concert 
 over the fire, I perceived Mary, from the 
 corner of my eye, steal softly to her nest, and 
 slip in under the clothes; an example that was 
 quickly followed by Eliza, who, with equal 
 archness, crept in by her side. 
 
 Pure and simple innocence! To dread no 
 eye, and to suspect no tongue, is the preroga- 
 tive of the family to whom these manners 
 belong. 
 
 At length Mr. Strangeways asked me if I 
 was willing to go to bed, and upon my replying 
 in the affirmative, he fetched a ladder from 
 an out-house into the room, and having placed 
 it against the wall, he ascended a few steps, 
 and opened a trap-door in the rafters, which 
 I had not perceived led to a cock-loft. 
 
 Did you ever mount a ship's ladder, said 
 Mr. Strangeways? 
 
 I replied, that I had a thousand. 
 
 Then, said he, be kind enough to follow 
 me. 
 
 I followed, without betraying the least emo- 
 tion of surprise; none but a rustic would have 
 uttered an exclamation at the novelty of the 
 staircase. I found a decent bed in the room 
 appropriated to my reception; and, when Mr. 
 Strangeways had opened and closed the shut- 
 
38o 
 
 ter of the window in a manner which, after 
 travelling so long in America, I could not but 
 understand; the worthy man bade me a good 
 night, and left me to my repose. I soon fell 
 asleep; nor were my slumbers disturbed by 
 the vision of an exorbitant landlord, appear- 
 ing, to levy contributions on my purse, with a 
 long bill in his hand. 
 
 I rose the next morning with the sun, and 
 descended my ladder. The family were all 
 stirring. The father and sons were at the 
 plough, the mother was getting ready break- 
 fast, and the two girls were at their spinning- 
 wheels. The sound of these instruments was 
 not quite so harmonious as that of a piano; 
 but I know not whether a woodland nymph 
 giving rapid motion to her spinning-wheel, 
 be not a more captivating object than a 
 haughty town-dame running her fingers dis- 
 dainfully over the keys of a harpsichord. 
 
 Mary's breast knew not the restraint im- 
 posed by the depravity of the world. 
 
 When I came down, she replied to my salu- 
 tations of the morning, by saying, (her spin- 
 ning-wheel still in rapid motion) Oh! Sir! I 
 am so sorry! indeed! indeed! indeed! — upon 
 my word and honour — your little dog is gone 
 back home! 
 
 My dog, cried I, gone back home! I fear, 
 Miss, you advised him to go. 
 
 No, Sir, returned the girl, indeed! indeed! 
 
38i 
 
 a double indeed! a hundred indeeds! I asked 
 him tO' stay. 
 
 Do, Mary, said the mother, hush your non- 
 sense. Could your asking make the dog stay? 
 
 Why, mother, said the girl, I reckoned by 
 his going to lie down at the door, that he 
 wanted to go back ; so I talked to him, and told 
 him if he knew when he was well ofif he would 
 stop and be my dog. 
 
 Your dog, cried the mother. How comes 
 that about? 
 
 Why, mother, replied the girl, did I not 
 make the gentleman promise me last night, 
 that he would leave the dog under my care 
 till he travelled this road again. Pish! said 
 the mother, you cannot child take care of your- 
 self. 
 
 The brother entered just as the last sentence 
 escaped the lips of the girl. What! Mary, 
 said he. So you made the gentleman promise 
 he would travel this road again! 
 
 Do, Wilmot, said the girl, hush. Don't 
 take me up before I am down. 
 
 Fags! Mary, said Wilmot, I believe you 
 will be both up and down often enough yet 
 before you die. We have all our ups and 
 downs in the world. 
 
 Do, mother, cried the girl, tell Wilmot to 
 hush. I know what! I wont mend his coat 
 that's out of elbows — I wont for spite — and 
 then he can't go to the dance at Newgate. 
 
382 
 
 Yes, said Wilmot, I can go to the dance at 
 Newgate. 
 
 Yes, said Mary, but will Rose dance with 
 you? 
 
 No matter, rejoined Wilmot, I will get 
 Eliza to patch the elbows. You'll do it for 
 me Eliza — I know now for a flying squirrel's 
 nest — and I'll save the prettiest one for Eliza. 
 
 I'll patch your elbows for you, brother, said 
 the other girl. Is the squirrel's nest on the 
 plantation. 
 
 And when the stranger's dog, said Mary 
 comes back, I shall be better off than Eliza. 
 
 And when the stranger comes back, said 
 Wilmot, What then? 
 
 What then? Mr. Inquisitive, said Mary, 
 why I reckon father will not shut his door 
 against him. 
 
 Not I, said the father, putting on his coat 
 as he entered the room. We are all fellow- 
 travellers in this vale of tears ; and it becomes 
 us in our pilgrimage to behave with loving 
 kindness to each other. The stranger shall 
 always find a home under this roof. 
 
 Sir, said I, I acknowledge your hospitality. 
 But no man ought to account himself at home 
 till he enters into the house of his heavenly 
 father. 
 
 Right, Sir, said the man. We are only 
 sojourners here below. Our race is soon run. 
 Our duty is to tarry here patiently till we are 
 
383 
 
 received into the house of our common father; 
 and heaven will be doubly sweet to him who 
 has borne afflictions without repining. 
 
 The family now sat down to breakfast, and 
 the stranger within their gates. But where, 
 said the father, is Bill? 
 
 Why I reckon, said Wilmot, Bill is gone to 
 look for the gentleman's dog. I heard him 
 halloo in the woods. 
 
 In a few minutes Bill returned, skipping 
 like a young hart upon the mountains. 
 
 Well, Bill, said Wilmot, what is become 
 of the dog. Why I reckon, cried Bill, he is 
 gone back to the Great Falls, If I had 
 know'd he intended to go, I would have tied 
 him up in the stable. He was a right pretty 
 dog. He was just such another as Jack 
 Hatchet bought of 'Squire Carter's driver. 
 
 The morning was ushered in with rain, 
 which continued throughout the day. It was 
 the wet season in April, a. time very favourable 
 to the planting of tobacco. 
 
 I, therefore, continued housed. I had got 
 into pleasant quarters; and I opposed but 
 feebly Mr. Strangeways, who insisted with 
 much hospitality that I should tarry another 
 night under his roof. 
 
 I passed the day in talking with Mary, and 
 gazing on her dark eyes. She had dressed 
 herself with no little coquetry; and I could 
 perceive when she contemplated her white 
 
384 
 
 frock and blue sash, that she thought herself 
 a finer lady to-day than she was yesterday. 
 Enviable Maid! with her, dress and happiness 
 were synonimous terms. 
 
 We had breakfast next morning, and the old 
 man was gone to cultivate his tobacco, when 
 a pedlar came to the door. The appearance 
 of Sam Lace lighted up joy in the eyes of 
 Mary and Eliza. 
 
 The pedlar first exhibited his ballads. 
 " Here," said he, " is the whole trial, examina- 
 " tion, and condemnation of Jason Fairbanks, 
 " who was executed at Philadelphia for cut- 
 " ting ofif Peggy Plackefs head under a hedge 
 " on the road to Frankfort." 
 
 Lord! said Eliza, what a wicked fellow. I 
 would not live in one of those great big towns 
 for all the world! But I wonder whether it 
 is true? 
 
 True ! replied Mary, certainly it is. Don't 
 you see it is in print. 
 
 " And here," cried the pedlar, " is the ac- 
 " count of a whale that was left ashore by the 
 " tide in the bay of Chesapeak, with a ship 
 " of five thousand tons in his belly, called 
 " the Merry Dane of Dover. She was the 
 " largest ship ever known." 
 
 And is that true, too,? said Eliza. 
 
 True! cried Mary. How can you ask such 
 a question? Do you think they would put 
 it in print if it was not true? 
 
385 
 
 Come pedlar, said I, let us examine the 
 contents of your box. Have you any ear- 
 rings ? 
 
 At this interrogation I could perceive the 
 bosom of Mary rise to her chin. 
 
 Yes Sir, said the fellow, I have ear-rings 
 that would be an ornament to the ears of the 
 President's lady. I have them at all prices — 
 from five dollars down to one and a half. 
 My five dollar pairs are fit for the first tip 
 top, quality breeding. 
 
 Let me see some, said I, that are fit for the 
 first tip top, quality breeding. 
 
 There, said he, is a pair — and there is an- 
 other, that a duchess need not be ashamed 
 of. I sold the fellow pair last week to 
 'Squire Cartwrighfs lady in Gloucester 
 County. 
 
 I thought the heart of Mary would have 
 burst from its bondage. It made her little 
 bosom heave up and down like a bird that 
 was dying. 
 
 Mary, said I, do me the favour to accept 
 that pair of ear-rings; and Eliza, I beg you 
 will take the other. 
 
 Eliza had put on her little straw bonnet to 
 
 visit Miss , at the shrine of whose beauty 
 
 Wilmot was offering his incense; and she now 
 danced off with an accession of happiness 
 from the present I had made her. The pedlar 
 strung his box over his shoulders, and seizing 
 
386 
 
 his staff, pursued his journey through the 
 woods. 
 
 And now it was necessary to separate from 
 the family of the log-house in the woods. 
 Yet, I could not leave Mary without emotion. 
 Oh! my reader, if you are a lover of a happy 
 face, it would have done your heart good to 
 have beheld the countenance of this Virginian 
 damsel, when her mother had hung the ear- 
 rings to her ears. The spinning-wheel no 
 more revolved with the magic of her hand. 
 Mary was sitting crosslegged (I hope I need 
 not gut this naughty word of its vowels) in 
 her chair; and had placed on her lap a little 
 looking-glass, in which she was beholding her- 
 self. She uttered not a word. Real happi- 
 ness is not loquacious ; the mind under its in- 
 fluence is content with its own sensations. 
 
 I now rose to go. The mother and Mary 
 were the only tenants of the log-house. I 
 bade the Dame good bye. 
 
 I wish, said the worthy woman, that Wilmot 
 was here. The gentleman will never find his 
 way out of the woods. My daughter, do put 
 on your bonnet, and shew the gentleman in 
 the way to the main-road. 
 
 Mary rose with alacrity; she slipped on her 
 bonnet: and having taken a parting look at 
 the glass, conducted me through the planta- 
 tion. 
 
 I gave the little wood-nymph my arm, and 
 
387 
 
 we walked forward together. The mocking- 
 bird was singing; his song never appeared to 
 me so sweet before. 
 
 At length, after walking half a mile, we 
 emerged from the wood, and reached the track 
 of the wheel. 
 
 And now, Mary, said I, once more farewell. 
 Her cheek was crimsoned, and the redness of 
 her lips heightened, from the exercise of walk- 
 ing. I would fain have tasted them; coral 
 was not to be compared to their hue ; and the 
 nether one, a little more prominent than the 
 other, looked as if some bee had newly stung it. 
 
 We both stood some minutes in silence. If 
 peradventure, now, thought I, I should give 
 a pressure to that lip, what efifects might ensue. 
 There may be a subtile poison lurking in its 
 moisture. It might doom me to pass the re- 
 mainder of my days in a house roofed with 
 shingles. 
 
 Mary, said I, farewell. And let my advice 
 go with you. Confide not for ornament in 
 the rings that hang in thy ears, but in the 
 virtue that dwells in thy bosom. For when 
 thou art deceived though thou clothest thyself 
 with crimson, though thou deckest thee with 
 the ornaments of gold, though thou rentest 
 thy face with painting, in vain shalt thou 
 be fair. 
 
 After walking a mile and a half, I met a 
 boy sauntering along, and whistling, probably, 
 
388 
 
 for want of thought. How far, my boy, said 
 I, is it to Frying-Pan? You be in the pan 
 now, replied the oaf. I be, be I, said I. Very 
 well. 
 
 Frying-Pan is composed of four log-huts 
 and a Meeting house. It took its name from 
 a curious circumstance. Some Indians hav- 
 ing encamped on the Run, missed their fry- 
 ing-pan in the morning, and hence the name 
 was conferred on the place. 
 
 I did not deign to stop at Frying-Pan, but 
 prosecuted my walk to Newgate; where in 
 the piazza of Mr. Thornton's tavern I found a 
 party of gentlemen from the neighbouring 
 plantations carousing over a bowl of toddy, 
 and smoking segars. No people could exceed 
 these men in politeness. On my ascending the 
 steps to the piazza every countenance seemed 
 to say, This man has a double claim to our 
 attention ; for he is a stranger in the place. In 
 a moment there was room made for me to sit 
 down; a new bowl was called for, and every 
 one who addressed me did it with a smile 
 of conciliation. But no man asked me where 
 I had come from, or whither I was going. 
 A gentleman is in every country the same; 
 and if good-breeding consists in sentiment, it 
 was to be found in the circle I had got into. 
 
 The higher Virginians seem to venerate 
 themselves as men; and I am persuaded there 
 was not one in company who would have felt 
 
389 
 
 embarrassed at being admitted to the presence 
 and conversation of the greatest Monarch on 
 earth. There is a compound of virtue and 
 vice in every human character; no man was 
 ever yet faultless; but whatever may be ad- 
 vanced against Virginians, their good qualities 
 will ever outweigh their defects; and when 
 the efifervescence of youth has abated, when 
 reason asserts her empire, there is no man on 
 earth who discovers more exalted sentiments, 
 more contempt for baseness, more love of jus- 
 tice, more sensibility of feeling, than a VIR- 
 GINIAN. 
 
 At Newgate my pilgrimage was nearly at 
 an end; for Mr. Ball's plantation was only 
 distant eight miles, — and it was he whom I 
 was going to visit. But it was now necessary 
 to bestride a horse; for in Virginia no man 
 is respected who travels on foot; and as a 
 man of sense will conform with the customs 
 of every country, (and at Rome, as my Lord 
 Chesterfield elegantly observes, kiss either the 
 Pope's great toe or his b — k — e,), I put my- 
 self to the expence of a horse, and with the 
 argument of a stick I prevailed on him to 
 advance. 
 
390 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 MEMOIR OF MY LIFE 
 
 IN THE WOODS OF VIRGINIA 
 
 There be some sports are painful ; but their labour 
 
 Delight in them sets off ; some kinds of baseness 
 
 Are nobly undergone ; and most poor matters 
 
 Point to rich ends. This my mean task 
 
 Would be as heavy to me, as odious ; but 
 
 The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead, 
 
 And makes my labours pleasure. — Hear my soul speak! 
 
 I am in my condition, a Prince, Miranda; 
 
 I do think a King; and but for thee, 
 
 I would no more endure this wooden slavery, 
 
 Than I would suffer the flesh-fly blow my mouth. 
 
 The very instant that I saw you, did 
 
 My heart fly to your service; there resides. 
 
 To make me slave to it; and, for your sake. 
 
 Am I this patient log-man. 
 
 Shakespear. 
 
 Reception at Pohoke. — An Old Field-School. — A 
 fair Disciple. — Evening Scene on a Plantation. 
 Story of Dick the Negro, &c. ^c. ^c. 
 
 The rugged and dreary road from Newgate 
 to New-Market, in Prince William County, 
 is bordered by gloomy woods, where the na- 
 tives of the State, and emigrants from New 
 Jersey, cultivate on their plantations Indian 
 corn, wheat, tobacco, and rye. After passing 
 Bull Run, a stream that takes its appellation 
 
391 
 
 from the mountains of the same name, the 
 Traveller comes to the intersection of two 
 roads, and is in suspense which to take. If 
 he travels the left it will bring him to the 
 unaccommodating town of New-Market, 
 where publicans * and sinners waste the day 
 in drinking and riot; but the right will con- 
 duct him to the hospitable plantation of Mr. 
 Ball, who never yet shut his door against the 
 houseless stranger. 
 
 Having come to Bull Run, I stopped at a 
 kind of waggoner's tavern on its border, to 
 inquire the way to the plantation. Old 
 Flowers the landlord, reeled out of his log- 
 hut towards my horse, but was too much in- 
 toxicated to make a coherent reply; so giving 
 my steed his head, I was all passive to his 
 motions, till overtaking an old negro man, I 
 demanded the road to Mr. Ball's. The old 
 negro was clad in rags, if rags can be called 
 cloathing; he was a squalid figure of sixty, 
 and halted as he walked; he was grunting 
 somewhat in the manner of an old hog at an 
 approaching shower of rain; and he carried 
 a hickory stick in his right hand, with which 
 he was driving the cattle home from pasture. 
 
 Is this the way, old man, to Mr. Ball's? 
 Aye, Master, I'm going there myself; and 
 should have got to the plantation a couple of 
 hours before sun-down, but the red bull was 
 
 * Tax Gatherers. 
 
392 
 
 strayed after old mother Dye's heifers, and 
 it cost me a plaguy search to find him in the 
 woods. 
 
 Good company on the road, says Goldsmith, 
 is the shortest cut, and I entered into conversa- 
 tion with the negro. 
 
 Then you live with Mr. Ball? 
 
 Aye, Master, I live with the 'Squire, and 
 do a hundred odd jobs for him. You're going 
 to see him, I reckon; some friend it's like 
 enough. The 'Squire is a worthy gentleman, 
 and I don't tell a word of a lie when I say 
 he would not part with me for the best young 
 negro that was ever knocked down at vendue.* 
 There was 'Squire Williams of Northumber- 
 land wanted to tempt him, by offering for me 
 a young woman that was a house-servant, a 
 seamster, and could work at the hoe. But 
 old birds is not to be catched with chaff. No 1 
 No I says Master, I shant easily meet with the 
 fellow of Dick again; he is a gardener, a 
 flax-beater, and a good judge of horse-flesh. 
 No! No! if I part with Dick, I part with my 
 right-hand man. 
 
 Has your Master a large family? 
 
 Aye, a house full of children. Four and 
 three makes seven. There's seven young ones 
 altogether; four girls and three boys. Master 
 Waring is a sharp one; he found a nest of 
 bees in the woods, which I reckoned nobody 
 
 * Auction. 
 
3^3 
 
 know'd anything about but myself; and will 
 make nothing of climbing a hickory after an 
 owl's nest, and pulling out young and old by 
 the neck. Concern it, an owl always scares 
 me. He'll turn his eyes round and round, 
 and look all manner of ways at once! 
 
 Have you good hunting in the woods? 
 
 Aye, rat it, Sir, I reckoned you was coming 
 to hunt with Master. But, God help us, hunt- 
 ing is all over; the New Jersey men have 
 cleared the woods. When I was a lad, I used 
 to track the wolves on the snow, and never 
 tracked one that I did not catch.* Master, 
 I don't tell you a word of a lie, if you'll believe 
 me, when I say that in one winter I got fifteen 
 dollars reward from the Justice at New- 
 Market, for the heads of wolves. And then 
 there was such mighty herds of deer; the 
 woods was fested with them. We would not 
 take the trouble to hunt them: all we had to 
 do, was to tie a bell to the neck of a tame doe, 
 and turn her into the woods. A little after 
 sun-down, we got ready our guns, and stood 
 behind the out-house. Presently we could see 
 the doe trot towards home, followed by half 
 a dozen bucks prancing after her. Then we 
 
 [* Cf. Dr. Coke's Journals, p. 42,—" So romantic a scene, I 
 think I never beheld. The Wolves, I find, frequently come to 
 our friend's fences at night, howling in an awful manner; and 
 sometimes they seize upon a straying sheep. At a distance was 
 the Blue-Ridge, an amazing chain of mountains."] 
 
394 
 
 crack away at them all together, and hie! they 
 come tumbling down by hundreds! 
 
 The conversation of the negro held me en- 
 gaged till we got to the plantation; I then 
 gave him my horse, and walked through the 
 garden to the house. 
 
 In my way through the garden I passed two 
 young ladies gathering roses, who, however 
 immured in the woods, were clad with not 
 less elegance than the most fashionable females 
 of Europe. They were beautiful in face and 
 fo rm ; I asked them with a bowing mien, 
 whether Mr. Ball was at home. They re- 
 plied, that their papa was in the parlour, and 
 with much sweetness of manner directed me 
 by the shortest path to the house. 
 
 Mr. Ball received me with undissembled 
 accents of joy; he said he had long expected 
 my coming and was gratified at last. A nod 
 to a mulatto boy placed refreshments on the 
 side-board, and in a few minutes the family 
 assembled to take a peep at the Schoolmaster.* 
 
 The first impression made by Mr. Ball de- 
 cided that he was a Gentleman; and I was 
 not a little delighted with the suavity of his 
 manners, and the elegance of his conversation. 
 
 [* The author seems to have had no trouble in finding em- 
 ployment. The matter of education was at this time still a 
 difficult one. Cf. Richard Parkinson, A Tour in America in 
 ^79^< ^799, and 1800. London, 1805, Vol. II, p. 474, — "I one 
 day called on a gentleman of the name of Benj. Delany, Esq., 
 at Shooter's-Hill, near Alexandria ; and when I was introduced 
 
395 
 
 When the children withdrew, I entered on 
 the terms of my proposed engagement, and 
 presented to him a letter which I had been 
 honoured with from Mr. Jefferson. I knew 
 my host to be a Virginian who favoured the 
 Administration, and thought a letter from the 
 President would operate on him like witch- 
 craft. But I was unacquainted with my man. 
 Mr. Ball was not to be biassed by the whistling 
 of a name ; he read my letter more from com- 
 plaisance than any motive of curiosity; ob- 
 served, that a man's conduct could alone de- 
 cide his character; congratulated himself upon 
 the acquisition of a man of letters in his family ; 
 and offered to engage me for a twelvemonth, 
 at a salary of a hundred guineas. I acknowl- 
 edged the honour he did me, and engaged 
 with him for a quarter of a year. 
 
 The following day every farmer came from 
 the neighbourhood to the house, who had any 
 children to send to my Academy, for such they 
 did me the honour to term the log-hut in 
 which I was to teach. Each man brought his 
 son, or his daughter, and rejoiced that the day 
 
 to him, it was in a place at a distance from the house, in the 
 garden, which he called his office. He was instructing his 
 children. He told me he had been so troubled to get his 
 children educated, that at last he had found more satisfaction 
 in doing it himself than pursuing any other method. He told 
 me his eldest son was at Annapolis College ; and when he came 
 home in the holidays, his manners were such, that he was dis- 
 agreeable to him; and as for the boys he had at home, he had 
 an intention of sending them to England."] 
 
396 
 
 was arrived when their little ones could light 
 their tapers at the torch of knowledge! I 
 was confounded at the encomiums they heaped 
 upon a man whom they had never seen before, 
 and was at a loss what construction to put 
 upon their speech. No price was too great 
 for the services I was to render their children; 
 and they all expressed an eagerness to ex- 
 change perishable coin for lasting knowledge. 
 If I would continue with them seven years! 
 only seven years! they would erect for me a 
 brick seminary on a hill not far off; but for 
 the present I was to occupy a log-house, 
 which, however homely, would soon vie with 
 the sublime College of William and Mary, 
 and consign to oblivion the renowned Acad- 
 emy in the vicinity of Fauquier Court-House. 
 I thought Englishmen sanguine; but these 
 Virginians were infatuated. 
 
 I now opened what some called an Acad- 
 emy* and others an Old Field School; and, 
 however it may be thought that content was 
 never felt within the walls of a seminary, I, 
 for my part, experienced an exemption from 
 
 *It is worth while to describe the Academy I occupied 
 on Mr. Ball's plantation. It had one room and a half. It 
 stood on blocks about two feet and a half above the ground, 
 where there was free access to the hogs, the dogs, and the 
 poultry. It had no ceiling, nor was the roof lathed or plas- 
 tered ; but covered with shingles. Hence, when it rained, like 
 the nephew of old Elwes, I moved my bed (for I slept in my 
 Academy) to the most comfortable corner. It had one win- 
 dow, but no glass, nor shutter. In the night to remedy this, 
 
397 
 
 care, and was not such a fool as to measure 
 the happiness of my condition by what others 
 thought of it. 
 
 It was pleasureable to behold my pupils 
 enter the school over which I presided; for 
 they were not composed only of truant boys, 
 but some of the fairest damsels in the country. 
 Two sisters generally rode on one horse to 
 the school-door, and I was not so great a 
 pedagogue as to refuse them my assistance to 
 dismount from their steeds. A running foot- 
 man of the negro tribe, who followed with 
 their food in a basket, took care of the beast; 
 and after being saluted by the young ladies 
 with the curtesies of the morning, I proceeded 
 to instruct them, with gentle exhortations to 
 diligence of study. 
 
 Common books were only designed for 
 common minds. The unconnected lessons of 
 Scot, the tasteless Selections of Bingham, the 
 florid Harangues of Noah Webster, and the 
 somniferous Compilation of Alexander,^ were 
 
 the mulatto wench who waited on me, contrived very ingeni- 
 ously to place a square board against the window with one 
 hand, and fix the rail of a broken down fence against it with 
 the other. In the morning when I returned from breakfasting 
 in the " great big-house," (my scholars being collected,) I gave 
 the rail a forcible kick with my foot, and down tumbled the 
 board with an awful roar. " Is not my window," said I to 
 Virginia, " of a very curious construction? " " Indeed, indeed, 
 "Sir," replied my fair disciple, "I think it is a mighty 
 " noisy one." 
 
 [* Caleb Alexander's Young Ladies' and Gentleman's In- 
 
398 
 
 either thrown aside, or suffered to gather dust 
 on the shelf; while the charming Essays of 
 Goldsmith, and his not less delectable Novel, 
 together with the impressive work of De Foe, 
 and the mild productions of Addison, con- 
 spired to enchant the fancy, and kindle a love 
 of reading. The thoughts of these writers 
 became engrafted on the minds, and the com- 
 binations of their diction, on the language of 
 the pupils. 
 
 Of the boys I cannot speak in very en- 
 comiastic terms; but they were perhaps like 
 all other school boys, that is, more disposed 
 to play truant than enlighten their minds. 
 The most important knowledge to an Amer- 
 ican, after that of himself, is the Geography 
 of his country. I, therefore, put into the 
 hands of my boys a proper book, and initiated 
 them by an attentive reading of the Discov- 
 eries of the Genoese; I was even so minute 
 as to impress on their minds the man who first 
 descried land on board the ship of Columbus. 
 That man was Rod eric Triana, and on my 
 exercising the memory of a boy by asking him 
 the name, he very gravely made answer 
 Roderic Random. 
 
 Among my male students was a New Jersey 
 
 structor; William Scott's Lessons in Elocution and English 
 Grammar was widely used at that time, both in this country 
 and in England; Caleb Bingham's American Preceptor went 
 through 64 editions, 640,000 copies.] 
 
399 
 
 gentleman of thirty, whose object was to be 
 initiated in the language of Cicero and Virgil. 
 He had before studied the Latin grammar 
 at an Academy School (I use his own words) 
 in his native State, but the Academy School 
 being burnt down, his grammar, alas! was lost 
 in the conflagration, and he had neglected the 
 pursuit of literature since the destruction of 
 his book. When I asked him if he did not 
 think it was some Goth who had set fire to 
 his Academy School, he made answer, " So, 
 " it is like enough." 
 
 Mr. Dye did not study Latin to refine his 
 taste, direct his judgment, or enlarge his 
 imagination: but merely that he might be 
 enabled to teach it when he opened school, 
 which was his serious design. He had been 
 bred a carpenter, but he panted for the hon- 
 ours of literature. 
 
 Optat ephippia bos; piger optat arare caballus. 
 
 HoR.* 
 
 Such was the affectation or simplicity of this 
 man, that he expressed his fears the English 
 students would interrupt the acquirement of 
 Latin. Not knowing whether to storm or 
 laugh, I advised him to retire with his books 
 into Maddison's Cave. 
 
 The Blue Ridge Mountains were in sight 
 
 [* Epist., I, 14, 43,— 
 
 Optat ephippia bos piger, optat arare caballus.] 
 
400 
 
 from the plantation of Mr. Ball, and the rays 
 of the descending sun gilded their summits. 
 But no situation could be more dreary. It 
 had neither the wildness of nature, nor the 
 uniformity of art; and in any month of the 
 year would inspire an Englishman with 
 thoughts of suicide. 
 
 I never saw slavery wear so contented an 
 aspect as on Pohoke plantation. The work of 
 the slaves was light, and punishment never in- 
 flicted. A negro, who had run away, being 
 brought back by a person who recognized 
 him, he was asked by Mr. Ball the reason of 
 his elopement. Because, said the fellow, I 
 was born to travel. This man I presume was 
 a predestinarian. 
 
 On the Sabbath the negroes were at liberty 
 to visit their neighbours. Woman, of what- 
 ever colour, delights in finery; and the girls 
 never failed to put on their garments of glad- 
 ness, their bracelets, and chains, rings and ear- 
 rings, and deck themselves bravely to allure 
 the eyes of the white men. Nor are they 
 often unsuccessful; for as the arrow of a 
 strong archer cannot be turned aside, so the 
 glance of a lively negro girl cannot be resisted. 
 
 The verse of Virgil will apply to the people 
 of Virginia: 
 
 Alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra caduntur.* 
 
 [*Ecloga II, V. i8. Cf. La Rochefoucauld, Travels &c. II, 
 42, 82.] 
 
401 
 
 Several families from New Jersey were 
 settled in the neighbourhood. The characters 
 of men are best illustrated by comparison, and 
 it may not be useless to compare the Jersey 
 man with the native Virginian. 
 
 The New Jersey Man puts his hand to the 
 plough ; the Virginian only inspects the work 
 of his farm. The New Jersey Man lives with 
 the strictest economy, and very seldom visits 
 or receives visits. The Virginian exceeds his 
 income, loves to go abroad, and welcomes his 
 guest with the smiles of hospitality. The 
 New Jersey Man turns every horse out to 
 labour, and walks whither he has to go on 
 business ; the Virginian thinking it degrading 
 to be seen on foot, has always his riding nag 
 saddled and fastened to the fence. The New 
 Jersey Man is distinguished by his provincial 
 dialect, and seldom enlarges his mind, or 
 transfers his attention to others ; the Virginian 
 is remarkable for his colloquial happiness, 
 loses no opportunity of knowledge, and de- 
 lights to shew his wit at the expence of his 
 neighbour. Neither a dancing-master, a ped- 
 lar, or a maker of air balloons, was ever en- 
 couraged by a New Jersey Man; but on a 
 Virginian they never fail to levy contributions. 
 The treasury of the pedlar is in vain laid open 
 to the eyes of the New Jersey Man: neither 
 the brilliant water of the diamond, the crim- 
 son flame of the ruby, nor the lustre of the 
 
402 
 
 topaz has charms to allure him; but the Vir- 
 ginian enamoured of ornament cannot gaze 
 on them with impunity; he empties his coffers 
 of every dollar to adorn the apparel of his 
 wife and daughters. 
 
 Of my female students there was none equal 
 in capacity to Virginia. The mind of this 
 fair creature was susceptible of every culture; 
 but it had been neglected, and I opened to her 
 worlds of sentiment and knowledge. 
 
 Geography was one of our favourite studies. 
 The greatest trifler can scarce inspect a map 
 without learning something; but my lovely 
 pupil always rose from it with a considerable 
 accession of knowledge. Imparting such new 
 ideas was no undelightful employment, and I 
 often addressed my rose of May in an appro- 
 priate Ode. 
 
 ODE 
 
 TO VIRGINIA, LOOKING OVER A MAP 
 
 POWERFUL as the magic wand, 
 Displaying far each distant land, 
 Is that angel hand to me, 
 When it points each realm and sea. 
 
 Plac'd in geographic mood, 
 Smiling, shew the pictur'd flood. 
 Where along the Red Sea coast,* 
 Waves o'erwhelm'd the Egyptian host. 
 
 [* " Sea-coast " in text.] 
 
403 
 
 Again the imag'd scene survey, ;, 
 The rolling Hellespontic sea; 
 Whence the Persian from the shore, 
 Proudly pass'd his millions o'er. 
 
 See ! that little Isle afar 
 
 Of Salamis renown'd in war; 
 
 Swelling high the trump of fame i 
 
 With glory and eternal shame. 
 
 And behold to nearer view, 
 Here thy own lov'd country too ; 
 Virginia! which produc'd to me, 
 A pupil fair and bright like thee ! 
 
 It was my desire to open to my pupil the 
 Treasures of Shakespeare; of that poet whose 
 works will be studied with increasing rapture 
 on the banks of the Mississippi, the Ohio and 
 Potomac, when the language in which Voltaire 
 reviled him shall have perished with the 
 wreck of nations. But the Library of the 
 plantation did not supply the poet of nature; 
 and I was almost in despair, when on a shelf 
 in a miserable log-house I found the first 
 volume of Theobald's edition. The book I 
 obtained for a trifle, and I removed it to my 
 school. 
 
 I shall not easily forget the feeling with 
 which my pupil read aloud that beautiful and 
 natural scene in the Tempest, where Miranda 
 sympathizes with Ferdinand, who is bearing 
 logs to Prosperous cell. No scene can be more 
 exquisitely tender, and no lips could give 
 
404 
 
 juster utterance to the speeches of its charac- 
 ters than those of my fair disciple. Her voice 
 possessed more magic than Prosperous wand. 
 I was transported into fairy land. I was rapt 
 in a delicious dream from which it was misery 
 to be waked. All around was enchantment. 
 And what Ferdinand had before exclaimed 
 on hearing the music of Ariel, I applied in 
 secret to the voice of Virginia — 
 
 This is no mortal business, nor no sound 
 That the earth owns! 
 
 The female mind seems peculiarly adapted 
 to relish tender poetry; and in the Elegy of 
 Gray and the Ballad of Goldsmith, I spread 
 before my pupil a rich banquet to exercise 
 reflection. Such poets are ever read with ad- 
 vantage for they embellish nature and virtue 
 with an elevated but chaste imagination. 
 
 My pupil was perhaps not a regular beauty; 
 but her form was exquisitely delicate; and 
 there were a spirit and expression in her coun- 
 tenance that charmed more than mere regular 
 features. Her hair was rather light for eyes 
 perfectly black. 
 
 Viola mon Eleve: il faut encore y joindre 
 Un petit neZj mais un nez fait au tour, 
 Nez retrousse comme le veut I'Amour. 
 
 As the studies of my pupil never tired, so 
 the relation of them will never fatigue me. 
 
405 
 
 She learnt French with avidity, and it was 
 no unpleasant task to hear her give utterance 
 to the musical language of a Sevigne. The 
 Epic Narrative of Fenelon, and the pathetic 
 Tale of Saint Pierre^ were the French books 
 that most delighted her. But she thought the 
 translation of Paul and Virginia from the 
 pen of Miss Helen Maria Williams, more 
 beautiful in her attire than that of the author. 
 
 The Sonnets," exclaimed Virginia, " are so 
 "pretty. Indeed! Indeed! Sir, they are." 
 
 The Rose, the queen of flowers, and theme 
 of the Persian poets, grew abundantly in the 
 garden; and my girls never came to school 
 without having gathered clusters of them to 
 decorate their dress. Hence I breathed only 
 fragrance in a circle of loveliness. 
 
 How unspeakably delightful was the em- 
 ployment of cultivating the taste of Virginia! 
 By the magic of the Belles Lettres I was open- 
 ing the avenues of her innocent heart to friend- 
 ship and to pity; I was exciting its natural 
 susceptibility for every mild and tender pas- 
 sion that can soften humanity. 
 
 Let the gloomy and austere moralist con- 
 demn woman to vegetate on the earth. Let 
 him shut from her those sources of pure and 
 exalted pleasure, arising from the contempla- 
 tion of the sublime and the beautiful. Such 
 inhibitions become the cynic in his cell; but 
 let a man of the world and of elegant educa- 
 
4o6 
 
 tionask his heart what conveyed to it such 
 transports in the company of a particular 
 female. Was it the lustre of the eye? the 
 redness of the lip? or the peculiar conforma- 
 tion of the features? No. The beauty of 
 countenance which captivates a soul exalted 
 by education, depends not upon any known 
 rule of proportion, but is connected with senti- 
 ment; it is the emanation of intellectual ex- 
 cellence, the beaming forth of that moral sense 
 which imparts a magic to every look, and con- 
 stitutes expression. Women, like men, with- 
 out education, are not of a social but gregari- 
 ous nature. They herd together, but they ex- 
 change no ideas. And there is certainly the 
 same difference between an educated and un- 
 ducated woman, as between one living and 
 one dead. 
 
 Succession is only perceived by variation, 
 and in the delightful employment of teaching 
 my lovely pupil all I knew, the hours of the 
 morning were contracted to a moment by the 
 earnest application of my mind to its object; 
 time took a new pair of wings, and the school- 
 door, which faced the south, had the sun star- 
 ing full upon it, before I recollected that my 
 attention ought to be divided, and not con- 
 secrated to one scholar. 
 
 Hence I frequently protracted the studies 
 of the children till one, or half past one 
 o'clock; a practice that did not fail to call 
 
407 
 
 forth the exclamations both of the white and 
 the black people. Upon my word, Mr. Ball 
 would say, this gentleman is diligent; and 
 Aunt Patty the negro cook would remark, 
 He good cool-mossa that; he not like old 
 Hodgkinson and old Harris, who let the 
 boys out before twelve. He deserve good 
 " wages! " 
 
 Having sent the young ladies to the family 
 mansion, I told the boys to break up ; and in 
 a few minutes they who had even breathed 
 with circumspection, now gave loose to the 
 most riotous merriment, and betook them- 
 selves to the woods, followed by all the dogs 
 on the plantation. 
 
 Let the reader throw aside my volume, 
 whose mind feels disgust from the images 
 afforded by a school in the woods of America. 
 I deprecate not his severity; I write not for 
 such feelings. But, reader, if thou art a 
 father, or if thy mind uncorrupted by the 
 business and vanities of life, can delight in 
 the images of domestic privacy, thou wilt 
 derive more real satisfaction from the picture 
 of a groupe of school-boys at play, than from 
 the conflict of the Austrians with the French 
 on the plains of Maringo. 
 
 There was a carpenter on the plantation, 
 whom Mr. Ball had hired by the year. He 
 had tools of all kinds, and the recreation of 
 Mr. Dye, after the labour of study, was to 
 
4o8 
 
 get under the shade of an oak, and make 
 tables, or benches, or stools for the Academy. 
 So true is the assertion of Horace^ that the 
 cask will always retain the flavour of the 
 liquor with which it is first impregnated. 
 
 Well, Mr. Dye, what are you doing? " 
 
 I am making a table for the Academy- 
 School. 
 
 What wood is that? 
 
 It is white oak. Sir. 
 
 What, then you are skilled in trees, you 
 can tell oak from hickory, and ash from 
 fir? 
 
 Like enough. Sir. (A broad grin) I ought 
 to know those things; I served my time to it. 
 
 Carpenter. — I find, Sir, Mr. Dye has done 
 with his old trade ; he is above employing his 
 hands; he wants work for the brain. Well! 
 larning is a fine thing; there's nothing like 
 larning. I have a son only five years old, that, 
 with proper larning, I should not despair of 
 seeing a Member of Congress. He is a boy 
 of genus; he could play on the Jew's-harp 
 from only seeing Sambo tune it once. 
 
 Mr. Dye. — I guess that's Billy; he is a 
 right clever child. 
 
 Carpenter. — How long. Sir, will it take you 
 to learn Mr. Dye Latin? 
 
 Schoolmaster. — How long. Sir, would it 
 take me to ride from Mr. BalVs plantation to 
 the plantation of Mr. Wormley Carter? 
 
409 
 
 Carpenter. — Why that, Sir, I suppose, 
 would depend upon your horse. 
 
 Schoolmaster. — Well, then, Sir, you 
 solve your own interrogation. — But here 
 comes Dick. What has he got in his 
 hand? 
 
 Mr. Dye. — A mole like enough. Who are 
 you bringing that to Dick? 
 
 Dick. — Not to you. — You never gave me 
 the taste of a dram since I first know'd you. 
 Worse luck to me ; you New Jersey Men are 
 close shavers; I believe you would skin a 
 louse. This is a mole. I have brought it for 
 the gentleman who came from beyond sea. 
 He never refuses Dick a dram ; I would walk 
 through the wilderness of Kentucky to serve 
 him. Lord! how quiet he keeps his school. 
 It is not now as it was ; the boys don't go clack, 
 clack, clack, like 'Squire Pendleton's mill 
 upon Catharpin Run! 
 
 Schoolmaster. — You have brought that 
 mole, Dick, for me? 
 
 Dick. — Yes, Master, but first let me tell 
 you the history of it. This mole was once a 
 man; See, Master, (exhibits the mole,) 
 it has got hands and feet just like you and 
 me. It was once a man, but so proud, so 
 lofty, so pufifed-up, that God, to punish his 
 insolence, condemned him to crawl under the 
 earth. 
 
 Schoolmaster. — A good fable, and not un- 
 
410 
 
 happily moralized. Did you ever hear or 
 read of this before, Mr. Dye? 
 
 Mr. Dye. — Nay (a broad grin), I am right 
 certain it does not belong to Msop. I am 
 certain sure Dick did not find it there. 
 
 Dick. — Find it where? I would not wrong 
 a man of the value of a grain of corn. I came 
 across the mole as I was hoeing the potato- 
 patch. Master, shall I take it to the school- 
 house? — If you are fond of birds, I know now 
 for a mocking-bird's nest; I am only afeard 
 those young rogues, the school-boys, will find 
 out the tree. They play the mischief with 
 every thing, they be full of devilment. I saw 
 Jack Lockhart throw a stone at the old bird, 
 as she was returning to feed her young; and 
 if I had not coaxed him away to look at my 
 young puppies, he would have found out the 
 nest. 
 
 In conversation of this nature I sometimes 
 employed an hour or two not unprofitably; 
 for it brought me acquainted with characters 
 which could, perhaps, be only found in the 
 woods of America. Indeed human nature, 
 when considered separately from contingent 
 circumstances, is, I believe everywhere the 
 same ; but modified by custom and climate, its 
 external qualities are varied. 
 
 On Saturday I was at leisure to ride or 
 walk. On that day the bow was unbent, that 
 it might become stronger in its future tension. 
 
411 
 
 Yet, I confess, it was a day I rather dreaded 
 than wished; for, without the company of 
 Virginia, I gave myself up to despondency. 
 
 Urit me Glyceras nitor 
 Splendentis Pario marmore purius: 
 Urit grata protervitas, 
 Et vultus nimium lubricus aspici.*) 
 
 Had I lived near the Alps I should cer- 
 tainly have adopted the plan of Saint Preux, 
 and striven to dissipate my melancholy by 
 climbing to their summit. The Blue Ridge 
 Mountains were in sight, and why did I not 
 ascend them? Alas! the manners of the Blue 
 Ridgers possess none of that simplicity which 
 characterizes the inhabitants of the mountains 
 of Switzerland. 
 
 Finding the hours hang heavy, I bethought 
 myself of some invitation that had been given 
 me to a neighbouring plantation, and one visit 
 leading to another, in my round of calling on 
 one or another, I came to the house whither 
 Virginia had gone before me. Virginians are 
 ever hospitable; ever open-hearted to the 
 stranger who enters their doors. The house of 
 a Virginian is not less sacred to hospitality 
 than the tent of an Arab. I was received al- 
 ways with transport. " Here, Will, take this 
 " gentleman's horse. Edward, run up stairs, 
 
 [* Horace, Odes, I, ig, 5-9.] 
 
412 
 
 " my dear, and tell your mother and the girls 
 " to come down." 
 
 My recreation after school in the evening 
 was to sit and meditate before my door, in the 
 open air, while the vapours of a friendly pipe 
 administered to my philosophy. In silent 
 gravity I listened to the negro calling to his 
 steers returning from labour, or contemplated 
 the family groupe on the grass-plat before the 
 dwelling-house, of whom the father was tun- 
 ing his violin, the mother and daughters at 
 their needles, and the boys running and tum- 
 bling in harmless mirth upon the green. Be- 
 fore me was an immense forest of stately trees ; 
 the cat was sitting on the barn door; the fire- 
 fly was on the wing, and the whip-poor-will 
 in lengthened cries was hailing the return of 
 night. 
 
 I was now, perhaps, called to supper, and 
 enjoyed the society of Mr. Ball and his family 
 till the hour of their repose, when I returned 
 to my log-hut, and resumed my pipe before 
 the door. The moon in solemn majesty was 
 rising from the woods; the plantation-dog was 
 barking at the voices of the negroes pursuing 
 their nightly revels on the road; while the 
 mocking songster mimicked the note of every 
 bird that had sung during the day. 
 
 A skilful chymist will endeavour to extract 
 good from every substance, and I declined not 
 the conversation of a man because his face 
 
413 
 
 differed in colour from my own. Old Dick, 
 the negro whom I had met on the road, never 
 failed to visit my cell in the evening, and 
 the purpose of his visit was to obtain a dram 
 of whiskey. Dick said that it comforted him, 
 and I never withheld my comfort from him. 
 
 As I considered old Dick a much greater 
 philosopher than many of his white brethren 
 who have written volumes on resignation 
 under misfortunes, but could never bear the 
 tooth-ache patiently; I always put him upon 
 talking about himself, and one evening when 
 he came to see me, I desired he would relate 
 to me the story of his life. 
 
 STORY OF DICK THE NEGRO 
 
 " I was born at a plantation on the Rappa- 
 " hannoc River. It was the pulling of corn 
 
 time, when 'Squire Musgrove was Governor 
 " of Virginia. I have no mixed blood in my 
 " veins ; I am no half and half breed ; no chest- 
 " nut-sorrel of a mulatto ; but my father and 
 " mother both came over from Guinea. 
 
 " When I was old enough to work, I was 
 " put to look after the horses, and, when a boy, 
 " I would not have turned my back against the 
 " best negur at catching or backing the most 
 " vicious beast that ever grazed in a pasture. 
 
 " 'Squire Sutherland had a son who rode 
 " every fall to look at a plantation on James 
 " River, which was under the care of an over- 
 
414 
 
 " seer. Young master could not go without 
 " somebody on another horse to carry his sad- 
 " die-bags, and I was made his groom. 
 
 " This young chap, Sir, (here Dick winked 
 " his left eye,) was a trimmer. The first thing 
 " he did on getting out of bed was to call for 
 " a Julep;* and I honestly date my own love of 
 
 whiskey, from mixing and tasting my young 
 " master's juleps. But this was not all. He 
 
 was always upon the scent after game, and 
 " mighty ficious when he got among the negur 
 " wenches. He used to say that a likely negur 
 " wench was fit to be a Queen ; and I forget 
 " how many Queens he had among the girls on 
 " the plantations. 
 
 " My young master was a mighty one for 
 " music, and he made me learn to play the 
 " Banger.t I could soon tune it sweetly, and 
 " of a moonlight night he would set me to 
 " play, and the wenches to dance. My young 
 " master himself could shake a desperate foot 
 
 at the fiddle ; there was nobody that could 
 
 face him at a Congo Minuet; but Fat Hick- 
 
 ory could tire him at a Virginia Jig. 
 The young 'Squire did not live long. He 
 
 was for a short life and a merry one. He 
 " was killed by a drunken negur man, who 
 
 found him over-ficious with his wife. The 
 
 * A dram of spirituous liquor that has mint in it, taken 
 by Virginians of a morning. 
 
 fA kind of rude Guitar. 
 
415 
 
 negur man was hanged alive upon a gibbet. 
 It was the middle of summer; the sun was 
 full upon him; the negur lolled out his 
 tongue, his eyes seemed starting from their 
 sockets, and for three long days his only cry 
 was Water! Water! Water! 
 " The old gentleman took on to grieve 
 mightily at the death of his son ; he wished 
 that he had sent him to Britain for his educa- 
 tion; but after-wit is of no use; and he fol- 
 lowed his son to that place where master and 
 man, planter and slave must all at last lie 
 down together. 
 
 " The plantation and negurs now fell to the 
 lot of a second son, who had gone to Edin- 
 burgh to learn the trade of a Doctor. He 
 was not like 'Squire Tommy; he seemed to 
 be carved out of different wood. The first 
 thing he did on his return from Britain, was 
 to free all the old negur people on the plan- 
 tation, and settle each on a patch of land. 
 He tended the sick himself, gave them medi- 
 cine, healed their wounds, and encouraged 
 every man, woman and child to go to a Meet- 
 ing-house, that every Sunday was opened be- 
 tween our plantation and Fredericsksburgh. 
 Every thing took a change. The young 
 wenches, who, in Master Tommy's time, 
 used to put on their drops, and their brace- 
 lets, and ogle their eyes, now looked down 
 like modest young women, and carried their 
 
4i6 
 
 " gewgaws in their pockets till they got clear 
 " of the woods. He encouraged matrimony 
 " on the plantation by settling each couple in a 
 "log-house, on a wholesome patch of land; 
 " hired a schoolmaster to teach the children, 
 " and to every one that could say his letters 
 " gave a Testament with cuts. This made me 
 " bold to marry, and I looked out sharp for a 
 " wife. I had before quenched my thirst at 
 " any dirty puddle; but a stream that I was 
 " to drink at constant, I thought should be 
 " pure, — and I made my court to a wholesome 
 " girl, who had never bored her ears, and went 
 " constantly to Meeting. 
 
 " She was daughter to old Solomon the 
 ''Carter, and by moon-light I used to play 
 " my banger under her window, and sing a 
 " Guinea Love-song that my mother had 
 " taught me. But I found there was another 
 " besides myself whose mouth watered after 
 " the fruit. Cuffey, one of the Crop Hands, 
 " came one night upon the same errand. I am 
 " but a little man, and Cuffey was above my 
 " pitch; for he was six foot two inches high, 
 " with a chew of tobacco clapped above that. 
 " But I was not to be scared because he was a 
 " big man, and I was a little one; I carried a 
 " good heart, and a good heart is everything 
 " in love. 
 
 " Cuffey, says I, what part of the play is 
 " you acting? Does you come after SallF 
 
417 
 
 M ay be, says he, I does. Then, says I, here's 
 have at you boy; and I reckoned to fix him 
 by getting the finger of one hand into his ear, 
 and the knuckles of the other into his eye.* 
 But the whore-son was too strong for me, 
 and after knocking me down upon the grass, 
 he began to stomp upon me, and ax me if 
 I had yet got enough. But Dick was not 
 to be scared; and getting his great toe into 
 my mouth, I bit it off and swallowed it. 
 Cliff ey now let go his hold, and it was my 
 turn to ax Cuffey if he had got enough. Cuf- 
 fey told me he had, and I walked away to 
 the Quarter.t 
 
 My master the next day heard of my battle 
 with Cuffey. He said that I ought to live 
 among painters and wolves, and sold me to 
 a Georgia man for two hundred dollars. 
 My new master was the devil. He made me 
 travel with him handcuffed to Savannah; 
 where he disposed of me to a tavern-keeper 
 for three hundred dollars. 
 " I was the only man-servant in the tavern, 
 and I did the work of half a dozen. I went 
 to bed at midnight, and was up an hour be- 
 for sun. I looked after the horses, waited at 
 the table, and worked like a new negur. But 
 I got a plenty of spirits, and that I believe 
 helped me. 
 
 * This is what is called Gouging, 
 t The place of abode for the negroes. > 
 
4i8 
 
 " The war now broke out, and in one single 
 " year I changed masters a dozen times. But 
 " I knowed I had to work, and one master to 
 " me was as good as another. When the war 
 " ended, I was slave to 'Squire Fielding, 
 " at Annapolis, in Maryland. I was grown 
 " quite steady, and I married a house-servant 
 " who brought me a child every year. I have 
 " altogether had three wives, and am the father 
 " of twelve children ; begot in lawful wed- 
 " lock: but this you shall hear. 
 
 " My wife dying of a flux, I was left to the 
 " management of my children ; but my master 
 " soon saved me the trouble, for directly they 
 " were strong enough to handle a hoe, he sold 
 " the boys to Mr. Randolph of Fairfax, and 
 " the girls to 'Squire Barclay of Port Tobacco. 
 " It was a hard trial to part with my little ones, 
 " for I loved them like a father; but there was 
 " no help for it, and it was the case of thou- 
 " sands besides myself. 
 
 " When a man has been used to a wife, he 
 " finds it mighty lonesome to be without one ; 
 " so I married a young girl who lived house- 
 " servant to a tavern-keeper at Elk Ridge 
 " Landing. It is a good twenty-five milesi 
 
 from Annapolis to the Landing-place; but: 
 
 a negur never tire when he go to see his 
 " sweetheart, and after work on Saturday 
 " night I would start for Elk Ridge, and get to 
 
 my wife before the supper was put away. 
 
419 
 
 " Dinah was a dead hand at making of mush ;* 
 " but she could not love it better than I. 
 " Dinah, says I, to her one night, if you was 
 " a Queen what would you have for supper? 
 '' Why milk and mush, Dick, says she. Con- 
 " cern it, Dinah, says I, why if you was to 
 " eat all the good things what would there be 
 " left for me? 
 
 " I was not perfectly satisfied with my new 
 "wife; I had some suspection that she gave 
 " her company, when I was away, to a young 
 "mulatto fellow; but as her children were 
 " right black, I was not much troubled. I 
 " never could bear the sight of a mulatto; they 
 " are made up of craft. They are full of im- 
 " pudence, and will tell a black man that the 
 " Devil is a negur; but I believe one colour 
 " is as much akin to him as another. 
 
 " I did not keep my second wife long; she 
 " was a giddy young goose, fond of dress. She 
 " wore a ruffled smock; and on a Sunday put 
 " on such sharp-toed shoes, that the points of 
 " them would have knocked out a mosquito's 
 " eye. If her children had not been right 
 " black and right ugly like myself, I should 
 " have suspected her vartue long before I had 
 " a real cause. 
 
 " I had made Dinah a present of a little lap- 
 " foist; a right handsome dog as you would 
 
 * Food resembling hasty-pudding. 
 
420 
 
 " see; and one Saturday, at negur day-time,* a 
 " mile before I got to Elk Ridge, the little 
 "foist came running up to me. Hie! 
 " thought I, Dinah must be out gadding, and 
 " looking forward I saw a man and woman 
 " run across the main-road into the woods. I 
 " made after them, but I was getting in years, 
 
 and a walk of twenty miles had made my 
 " legs a little stifif. So after cursing till my 
 
 blood boiled like a pitch-pot, I walked on 
 " to the tavern. 
 
 " I found Dinah in the kitchen; but the mu- 
 " latto fellow was not there. She ran to me, 
 " and fell on my neck. I hove her off. Be- 
 " gone girl, says I ; no tricks upon Travellers. 
 " Dick in his old age is not to be made a fool 
 " of. Did not I see you, with Paris, Mr. Jack- 
 
 son's mulatto? Lack a daisey, Dick, says 
 " she, I have not stirred out of the house. I 
 " swear point blank I have not. I would kiss 
 " the bible, and take my blessed oath of it! — 
 " Nor the foist either! says I. Get you gone, 
 " you hussey, I will seek a new wife. And so 
 
 saying I went up stairs, and made her gowns, 
 " and her coats and her smocks into a bundle, 
 " took the drops out of her ears, and the shoes 
 " off her feet, and walked out of the kitchen. 
 
 " I trudged home the same night. It trou- 
 " bled me to be tricked by a young girl, but It 
 
 * A cant term among the negroes for night ; they being then 
 at leisure. 
 
421 
 
 was some satisfaction to know that I had 
 stripped her of all her cloathing. Fine 
 feathers makes fine birds; and I laughed to 
 think how she would look next Sunday ; for 
 I had left her nothing but a home spun suit 
 that she had put on when she got back. 
 " I now said to myself that it was right fool- 
 ish for an old man to expect constancy from 
 a young girl, and I wished that my first wife 
 had not got her mouth full of yellow clay. 
 Half a mile from Annapolis, by the road- 
 side, is a grave-yard. It was here my poor 
 wife was buried. I had often heard tell of 
 ghosts, and wanted to see if there was any 
 truth in it. I stole softly to the hedge that 
 skirted the road. Hoga, jays I, does you 
 rest quiet? Hoga does you rest quiet? Say, 
 Hoga! and quiet old Dick! I had hardly 
 said the words when the leaves began to stir. 
 I trembled as though I had an ague. Hoga, 
 says I, don't scare me. But in less than a 
 minute I saw a black head look over the 
 hedge, with a pair of goggle eyes that flamed 
 worse than the branches of a pine tree on 
 fire. Faith, says I, that can't be Hoga's 
 head, for Hoga had little pee pee eyes. I 
 took to my heels and run for it. The 
 ghost followed quick. As luck would have 
 it there was a gate across the road. I jumped 
 the gate and crawled into a hedge. The 
 ghost did not follow. The gate had stopped 
 
422 
 
 " him. But I heard him bellow mightily, and 
 " when I peeped over the hedge, I saw it was 
 " 'Squire Hamilton's black bull. 
 
 " My master at Annapolis being made a 
 " bankrupt, there was an execution lodged 
 " against his negurs. I was sent to Alex- 
 " ander* and knocked down at vendue to old 
 " 'Squire Kegworth. I was put to work at 
 " the hoe. I was up an hour before the sun, 
 " and worked naked till after dark. I had no 
 " food hut Homony, and for fifteen months did 
 " not put a morsel of any meat in my mouth, 
 " but the flesh of a possum ojr a racoon that I 
 " killed in the woods. This was rather hard 
 " for an old man, but I knowed there was no 
 " help for it. 
 
 " Squire Kegworth was a wicked one; he 
 " beat Master Tommy. He would talk of 
 " setting us free; you are not, he would say, 
 " Slaves for life, but only for ninety-nine years. 
 " The 'Squire was never married; but an old 
 " negur-woman kept house ; who governed 
 " both him and the plantation. Hard work 
 " would not have hurt me, but I could never 
 " get any liquor. This was desperate, and 
 " my only comfort was the stump of an old 
 " pipe that belonged to my first wife. This 
 " was a poor comfort without a little drap of 
 " whiskey now and then ; and I was laying a 
 " plan to run away, and travel through the 
 
 * Alexandria. 
 
423 
 
 wilderness of Kentucky, when the old 
 'Squire died. 
 
 I was now once more put up at vendue, 
 and as good luck would have it, I was bid 
 for by 'Squire Ball. Nobody would bid 
 against him because my head was grey, my 
 ''^ back covered with stripes, and I was lame of 
 the left leg by the malice of an overseer who 
 stuck a pitchfork into my ham. But 'Squire 
 Ball knowed I was trusty; and though self 
 praise is no praise, he has not a negur on the 
 ' ' plantation that wishes him better than I ; or 
 a young man that would work for him with 
 * ' a more willing heart. There is few masters 
 'Mike the 'Squire. He has allowed me to 
 ''build a log-house, and take in a patch of 
 " land where I raise corn and water Meltons* 
 " I keep chickens and ducks, turkeys and geese, 
 " and his lady always gives me the price of 
 '' the Alexander market for my stock. But 
 " what's better than all. Master never refuses 
 ' ' me a dram, and with the help of whiskey, 
 " I don't doubt but I shall serve him these 
 " fifteen years to come. Some of his negurs 
 
 * Dick's log-hut was not unpleasantly situated. He had built 
 it near a spring of clear water, and defended it from the sun by 
 an awning of boughs. It was in Mr. Ball's peach-orchard. A 
 cock that never strayed from his cabin served him instead 
 of a time-keeper; and a dog that lay always before his door 
 was an equivalent for a lock. With his cock and his dog, Dick 
 lived in the greatest harmony ; notwithstanding the pretentions 
 of a white man to superiority over a black one neither the cock 
 nor the dog would acknowledge any other master but Dick. 
 
424 
 
 "impose on him; there's Hinton, a mulatto 
 " rascal, that will run him into debt; and 
 " there's Let, one of the house-girls, who will 
 " suck the eggs and swear it was a black snake. 
 " But I never wronged Master of a cent,* and 
 " I do the work of Hinton^ of Henry, and 
 " Jack, without ever grumbling. I look after 
 " the cows, dig in the garden, beat out the 
 " flax, curry-comb the riding nag, cart all the 
 " wood, tote t the wheat to the mill, and bring 
 " all the logs to the school-house." 
 
 Such is the history of the life and slavery 
 of Dick, the negro, as he delivered it to me 
 word for word. It will, perhaps, exhibit a 
 better picture of the condition of negroes in 
 America, than any elaborate dissertation on 
 the subject. But it aspires to more credit than 
 the mere gratification of curiosity. It will 
 enable the reader to form a comparison of his 
 own state with that of another, and teach him 
 the unmanly grief of repining at the common 
 casualties of life, when so many thousands of 
 his fellow-creatures toil out with cheerfulness 
 a wretched life under the imprecations and 
 scourgings of an imperious task-master. 
 
 Mr. Ball was son-in-law to Counsellor 
 Carter, of Baltimore,X who had formerly re- 
 
 * The hundreth part of a dollar, 
 t Tote is the American for to carry, 
 [t Spencer Ball, m. a daughter of Robert Carter, (1727- 
 1804), called ' Councillor,' of Nomini Hall, Westmoreland 
 County, Virginia. It was in the family of Colonel Carter that 
 
425 
 
 sided in the woods of Virginiaj and eman- 
 cipated the whole of his negroes, except those 
 whom he had given with the marriage-portion 
 of his daughter. Of this he afterwards re- 
 pented, and in a fit of religious enthusiasm 
 wrote a serious letter to Mr. Ball, exhorting 
 him to free his negroes, or he would assuredly 
 go to hell. Mr. Ball, whose property con- 
 sisted in his slaves, and whose family was 
 annually augmenting, entertained different no- 
 tions ; and with much brevity returned answer 
 to the old gentleman's letter, " Sir, I will run 
 " the chance." 
 
 But the period is hasting when I must leave 
 Mr. Ball and the worthy families in his neigh- 
 bourhood, and another page or two will con- 
 duct me out of the woods of Pohoke. I had 
 been three months invested in the first executive 
 office of Pedagogue, when a cunning old fox 
 of a New Jersey planter (a Mr. Lee) discov- 
 ered that his eldest boy wrote a better hand 
 than I. Fame is swift-footed; vires acquirit 
 eundo; the discovery spread far and wide; 
 and whithersoever I went, I was an object 
 for the hand of scorn to point his slow un- 
 moving finger at, as a schoolmaster that could 
 not write. Virginia gave me for the perse- 
 cutions I underwent a world of sighs, her 
 
 Philip Vickers Fithian was Tutor for a year, whose Journal 
 & Letters (1767-1774) is one of the most interesting books of 
 that period. See p. 71 of that book.] 
 
426 
 
 swelling heavens rose and with indignation 
 at old Lee and his abettors. The boys caught 
 spirit from the discovery. I could perceive 
 a mutiny breaking out among them; and had 
 I not in time broke down a few branches from 
 an apple tree before my door, it is probable 
 they would have displayed their gratitude for 
 my instructions by throwing me out of my 
 school-window. But by arguing with one 
 over the shoulders, and another over the back, 
 I maintained with dignity the first executive 
 office of Pedagogue. 
 
 I revenged myself amply on old Lee. It 
 was the custom of his son (a lengthy fellow 
 of about twenty) to come to the Academy 
 with a couple of huge mastiffs at his heels. 
 Attached to their master {par nobile fratrum) 
 they entered without ceremony Pohoke Acad- 
 emy, bringing with them myriads of fleas, 
 wood-lice and ticks. Nay, they would often 
 annoy Virginia, by throwing themselves at her 
 feet, and inflaming the choler of a little lap- 
 dog, which I had bought because of his dimin- 
 utive size, and which Virginia delighted to 
 nurse for me. I could perceive the eye of 
 Virginia rebuke me for suffering the dogs to 
 annoy her; and there lay more peril in her eye 
 than in the jaws of all the mastiffs in Prince 
 William County. 
 
 " Mr. Lee," said I, this is the third time I 
 " have told you not to convert the Academy 
 
427 
 
 " into a kennel, and bring your dogs to school." 
 Lee was mending his pen " judgmatically." 
 He made no reply but smiled. 
 
 I knew old Dick the negro had a bitch, and 
 that his bitch was proud. I walked down to 
 Dick's log-house. Dick was beating flax. 
 
 Dick," said I, " old Farmer Lee has done 
 "me much evil — (I don't like the old man 
 "myself, Master, said Dick) — and his son, 
 " repugnant to my express commands, has 
 " brought his father's two plantation dogs to 
 " the Academy. Revenge is sweet 
 
 "* Right, Master, said Dick. " I never felt 
 " so happy as when I bit off Cujfey's great toe 
 " and swallowed it 
 
 " Do you, Dick,'' said I, " walk past the 
 " school-house with your bitch. Lee's dogs 
 " will come out after her. Go round with 
 " them to your log-house ; and when you have 
 " once secured them, hang both of them up 
 " by the neck." 
 
 " Leave it to me. Master," said Dick. " I'll 
 
 fix the business for you in a few minutes. I 
 
 have a few fadoms of rope in my house — 
 " that will do it." 
 
 I returned to the Academy. The dogs were 
 stretched at their ease on the floor. "Oh! I 
 " am glad you are come," exclaimed Virginia; 
 *^ those great big dogs have quite scared me." 
 
 In a few minutes Dick passed the door with 
 his slut. Quick from the floor rose Mr. Lee's 
 
428 
 
 two dogs, and followed the female. The rest 
 may be supplied by the imagination of the 
 reader. Dick hung up both the dogs to the 
 branch of a pine-tree; old Lee lost the guards 
 to his plantation; the negroes broke open his 
 barn, pilfered his sacks of Indian corn,* rode 
 his horses in the night — and thus was I re- 
 venged on Alexander the Copper Smith. 
 
 Three months had now elapsed, and I was 
 commanded officially to resign my sovereign 
 authority to Mr. Dye, who was in every re- 
 spect better qualified to discharge its sacred 
 functions. He understood Tare and Tret, 
 wrote a copper-plate hand, and, balancing 
 himself upon one leg, could flourish angels 
 and corkscrews. I, therefore, gave up the 
 " Academy School " to Mr. Dye, to the joy 
 of the boys, but the sorrow of Virginia. 
 
 Virginia bewailed my impending departure 
 with tears in her eyes. " Alas! " said she, " I 
 " must now quit my French, my poetry and 
 English grammar! I shall be taught no 
 "more geography! I shall no more read in 
 " Paul and Virginia, but be put back into 
 '''•Noah Webster's horn-book! I shall (sob- 
 " bing) do nothing but write and cypher. I 
 
 [* Parkinson, Tour in America, Vol. II, p. 432, — " As I have 
 travelled on the road, I have made it my business to converse 
 with them, (the negroes), and they say " Massa, as we work 
 and raise all, we ought to consume all," and to a person who 
 does not contradict them, they will declare their mind very 
 freely."] 
 
429 
 
 " wish Mr. Dye would mind his own business. 
 " I wish, instead of coming to teach school, 
 " he would go and work at the crop." 
 
 I now once more seized my staff, and walked 
 towards Baltimore. It was a killing circum- 
 stance to separate from Virginia; but who 
 shall presume to contend against fate? 
 
 I still, and shall ever, behold Virginia in 
 my fancy's eye. I behold her fair form 
 among the trees. I contemplate her holding 
 her handkerchief to her eyes. I still hear a 
 tender adieu! faultering on her lips; and the 
 sob that choaked her utterance still knocks 
 against my heart. 
 
 Phyllida amo ante alias; nam me discedere flevit! * 
 [* Virgil: Ecloga III, 78.] 
 
 Note. — The Editor wishes to make acknowledgments 
 to the Secretary of the South Carolina Historical Society, 
 to the officials of the Library of Congress and of the Lenox 
 Library. 
 
GETTY CENTER LIBRARY