t-.: V' •if-,. ¦T^-TK JOURNAL. OF M ADAM^\ V^^ 6 1 \^". Sr ^© ^^3 ^^ g-»H g^nsi gi The Journal .of Madam Knight Limited to 2JC copies Number ^y The Private Journal of Sarah Kemble Knight Being the Record of a Journey from Boston to New York in the year 1704 Norwich Connecticut The Academy Press MCMI. a? ¦'1 t^ Extract from a Letter of Donald G. Mitchell on hearing of the plan for a new edition of Madam Knight's Journal AM very glad that the quaint old Dia ry of Madam Knight, who travelled through the wilds of Southern Con necticut nearly two hundred years ago, is to be put in so excellent setting as your young people have devised ; and am glad, too, that the Free Academy printers have shown themselves so expert in an art, which — though the Yellow Journalism of the day may send over us some moral shivers of distrust, — is still among the worthiest of arts. The little book is not perhaps altogether Addisonian: but the vivacious author was very keen of eye, and quick of hearing ; and I think has given us the most realistic and vivid account of cross-country journey ings in her time which can anywhere be found. 1 1 1 m Itt 1 B9Qf 1 ^ffl ^ ^p[ ii 1 i M as, ^8 ^B Mi S [fl fflj ^» ^tt [mMmSSI S 5 'tt rl am 1 i^^^^^i^^ ¦ 1 ^m^^^^ ^^m n ^g^^^i^^ ^^^pj ^ wm i im Qrt^^iT ^ M^HtH: ffl dife ^mm mmm ^%J^ ei if^ BS^^fflfl II Ml+ii li+ltttSHsaffi5S± ^^^fflH Si 1|J|^Hg ^P^S Pii BK jie ^K ^ m rfflffi M Introductory Preface. HE "Museum of Foreign Literature and Science," for January, 1826, contained an article printed from Blackwood's Magazine entitled "Travelling in A- merica," suggested by a volume publish ed at New York the previous year.f The Museum was then published in Philadelphia by the present senior and veteran editor of the "Living Age," to whom the literature of our country has been largely indebted for more than thirty years and whose literary banquets we hope to find spread before us for many years to come. Numerous extracts were in Blackwood's from Madam Knight's Journal with commendatory remarks upon the same. This was a private journal kept on her journey, *By W. R. Deane in Littell's Living Age, June 26, 1858. f'The Journals of Madam Knight and the Eev. Mr. Buckingham from the Original Manuscripts written in the year 1704 and 1710. New York: Wilder and CampbeU> x8as." 12 mo pp. 129. Introductory performed on horseback, from Boston to New York, in the year 1704. It is about fifteen years since we first read the article a- bove referred to, and our curiosity was thus strongly awak ened to peruse the entire Journal. After procuring a copy, our interest was still further excited to trace Madam Knight's line of travel from hence to NewYork, to identify the local ities where she tarried at the end of each day's ride, to learn of the persons she mentions, and the places she passed through,* and, more especially, to answer the question ; — Who was Madam Knight.? At that time we made some examination of our Probate and other records in Boston but found nothing that we were certain referred to the heroine of this journey ; and not until the publication, in 1852, by Miss F. M. Caulkins, of her history of New London, in which place Madam Knight and her daughter were buried, did there seem to be any certain clue by which to identify her here. Since that publication we have from time to time jotted down memoranda of traces of Madam Knight in Boston. Although on first reading her journal it had the air of romance,f and, apparently, like Sir Walter Scott's description of the wonderful volume of Michael of Belwearie in the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," — "It had much of glamour might To make a lady seem a Knight," yet we are now enabled from our Boston records, in con nection with those of New London, Norwich, and New Haven, to state that this lady was no fictitious Knight. She *Mr. Updike in his history of the Narragansett church (p. lo), identifies the spot where Haven's lavem stood, and where Madam Knight tarried the second night of her journey as being the site of the present residence of Wm. P. Maxwell. Esq., near the "Devil's Foot" rock in North Kingston, R. I. This is the only instance we have met with in print of any attention being given to the locality of any of the places where she stopped during her journey. f'There is no tale so wild as truth on earth " When we first saw this journal it was stated quite confidently that it was a fiction, written by the late Samuel L. Knapp. 10 Preface vras a native of Boston. Her journey to New York is veri table history, and however romantic, is perfectly true. Madam Knight was probably almost the only woman who, at so early a date, made such a journey in this country, and undoubtedly her journal gives the most interesting account of the kind, at that period, that has been rescued from the ever- wasting flood of time. Only about one third of the time since the landing of the Pilgrims had expired, when this jour ney was made. It was commenced the very year of the death of Peregrine White, the first child born after their ar rival, the year of the publication of the first newspaper in America,* about the time of the establishment of the first daily paper in London, five years before the birth of Dr. Johnson, one year before the birth of Dr. Franklin, and twenty seven years before the birth of Washington. Could we behold this lady as she actually appeared about three o'clock p. m. Oct. 2, 1704, arrayed in the style of the day, mounted on her charger, bidding adieu to her friends, starting with her kinsman, Capt. Robert Smith, as her guide, and wending her way over Boston neck, no antique scene could be of more amusing curiosity and interest. On her journey she was a guest of some of the principal person ages of the day. She gives graphic descriptions of the man ners and customs of all classes, and poetic glimpses of her travels, through forests, fording of rivers, and climbing of hiUs by night and by day. Mr. Littell who had also taken an interest in Madam Knight's Journal, knowing that we had a copy of the origi nal edition,f has expressed a desire to reprint the work in the Living Age, with such prefatory remarks as we might choose *"The Boston News Letter" was first published April 24, 1704. tMadam Knight's Journal was reprinted a few years ago with a few prefatory remarks by Rev. Mortimer Blake, now of Taunton, in successive numbers of the Protestant Tele graph, a weekly newspaper published in Boston. Probably few copies are preserved in this form. II Introductory to make. We have accordingly here hastily thrown together the result of our investigations in relation to her history and that of her journal. Madam Knight was the daughter of Thomas Kemble, a merchant, who resided in Charlestown as early as 165 1, at which time John Becx, Robert Rich, and William Green, of London, consigned to him 272 Scotch prisoners in the ship John and Sarah, Captain John Greene, to be disposed of for such goods as he should conceive would turn to the best ac count "in the Barbadoes" whither he was directed to send said goods consigned to Mr. Charles Rich.* These prison ers ("servants" these merchants call them) were sent to this country by order of the English government, and were prob ably taken, with others that were sent here about the same time, at the battle of Dunbar, Sept. 3, 1650, when Crom well was victorious, and four thousand were slain and ten thousand taken prisoners. The following extract from a letter written by Rev. John Cotton to the Lord General Cromwell, dated at Boston, N. E., 28 of 5th, 165 1, respect ing some prisoners of the same class of persons as were those consigned to Mr. Kemble, and in the same year, is interesting as showing how those prisoners were disposed of and treated : — f "The Scots, whom God delivered into our hands at Dunbarre, and whereof sundry were sent hither, we have been desirous (as we could) to make their yoke easy. Such as were sick of the scurvy or other diseases have not wanted physick and chirurgery. They have not been sold for slaves to perpetual servitude, but for 6 or 7 or 8 years, as we do our owne ; and he that bought the most of them [I heare] *N. E. Hist, and Gen. Reg. Vol. ±. p. 377. tHutchinson's "Collections of Papers," Boston, 1679, contains this letter an'i Crom well's answer. It is said in a note to Cromwell's Letter, that "this letter was copied from the original, all wrote with the protector's own hand." Cromwell's Letter was sold at auc tion in 1854, for £ 38 sterling, and was bought by our countryman, Henry Stevens, Esq., F. S. A. 12 Preface buildeth houses for them, for every four an house, layeth some acres of ground thereto, which he giveth them as their owne, requiring 3 dayes in the week to work for him [by turnesj. and 4 dayes for themselves, and promiseth as soon as they can pay him the money he layed out for them he will set them at liberty." Mr. Kemble was of Charlestown as late as 1658.* In 1655, while an inhabitant of Charlestown, he owned part of a saw-mill in Dover, N. H., where we find him admitted an inhabitant in i66o.t Between that time and 1666 he removed to Boston, and probably resided most of the remainder of his days on Moon Street, as he owned a house and garden there for many years before and at the time of his death. He died January 29, 1688-9, ^S^^ 67 years and 14 days. His wife Eliza beth survived him many years, and died December 19, 17 12. The gravestones of both are in the Copp's Hill burying ground. Mr. Kemble was for many years attorney or agent in this country for Mr. Robert Rich, a merchant of Lon- don.J Thomas Kemble had the following children. John, Samuel, Sarah, Rebecca, Henry, and Elizabeth, and possi bly others. Sarah was the only surviving child in 17 14. Of the sons we have traced John and Samuel only to man hood. John resided in New York city, and died before 1699, leaving a considerable estate, partly to his mother and sister, Mrs. Knight, but mostly to Elizabeth, Madam Knight's daughter. Samuel died on his passage from Bar badoes to New England in 1684. Sarah Kemble was born in Boston, April 19th, 1666. We do not find the date of her marriage on record. Her *Su6rolk Reg. Deeds, Vol. iii. p. 15a. tN. E. Hist, and Genl. Reg. Vol. vn. p. 158. {Middlesex Reg. Deeds, Vol. ni, p. 463. 13 Introductory husband was Richard Knight, of Boston. He had a for mer wife. Remember Grafton, the daughter of Nath aniel Grafton, of Salem. We have been able to gather but very few of the particulars of the husband of Madam Knight. He appears to have been absent from Boston when her jour ney was made, and probably died abroad, as we find no evi dence that he was here after 170 1. When he died we have not been able to learn, but we know that his wife supposed him to be living in 1706, when she signed as his attorney.* In 1 7 14 she styles herself a widow. Miss Caulkins says, in a letter dated May 23, 1858, that by a recent examination of the records of New London and Norwich, she finds no evi dence that Madam Knight was a resident of either of those places until about 17 15, which was after the marriage of her daughter with Colonel Livingstone of the former place, and that her statement in her history of New London that Madam Knight was at Norwich in 1698, and a widow, is probably an error, as she may have confounded her with another individual, there being various persons then resident in the town of the name of Knight. After stating that Madam Knight appears as grantor or grantee in various deeds of land at Norwich from 17 15 to 1725 and is styled "widow and shopkeeper" or "Mistress Sarah Knight shopkeeper," Miss Caulkins further remarks in the letter above referred to, — "The New London records, however, afford the most striking evidences of the magni tude of her land operations. The lands of the Mohegan In dians were then included within the bounds of New London, and here, beside the reservation for the Indians, was a large tract filling up with white settlers, but still affording some range to speculation. Col. Livingstone had tried the exper iment of buying up large quantities of this land and had owned at different times several of the finest farms in the ?Suffolk Reg. Deeds, Bk, xxiii, p. 30. 14 Preface Mohegan country. But he gradually parted with them and finally, soon after his second marriage, sold the remainder of his purchase to John Stanton, of Newport. "In 17 19 Joseph Bradford of New London, and Mrs. Sarah Knight, of Norwich, in partnership, repurchased the Livingstone Lands of Stanton, and perhaps other lands also. One of these deeds from Stanton to Bradford and Knight comprised eight parcels, the first of 600 acres, being origi nally a colonial grant to Gov. Winthrop, and measuring nearly double the nominal quantity ; the second 100 acres, — the third 70, — the fourth 500, — ^the fifth 350y — being the farm on which Col. Livingstone had lived in the day of his first wife, with the mills and mill stream and mansion house, — sixth an Indian grant called the Wheat-field, 251 acres, — seventh and eighth 170 acres. The consideration for these was ;^iooo in hand paid before the sealing etc., — dated the 17th day of the twelfth month called February, Anno Domini 1718-19, and in the fifth year of our sover eign Lord George etc. "By a second deed of the same date, Stanton conveys ta the partners Joseph Bradford and Sarah Knight, two-fifths of certain undivided lands originally ceded by Owaneco, Sa chem of Mohegan, to Livingstone Dennison & Company — amounting to about 1000 acres for ;£^230 — paid in hand; also a right to one-ninth of all the herbage of Mohegan in cluded in this purchase. "These two transactions will serve in some degree to show the business-like character of Madam Knight — and the prominent as well as important position she held in society. She stood high in the social rank and was respected both in the church and in mercantile affairs.* The following record is on the town books at Norwich ; — "August 1 2th, 1717. The towne grants liberty to Mrs. *MS. Letter of Miss CauUdns. 15 Introductory Sarah Knight to sitt in the pue where she use to sitt in y" meeting house."* She was also a pew holder in the new church built in that parish about 1724, and was sometimes styled of Norwich, and sometimes of New London. "This can be easily accounted for as she retained her dwelling-house in Norwich but her farms where she spent a portion of her time were within the bounds of New London. On one of the latter, the Livingstone farm, on the Norwich road, she kept entertainment for travellers and is called Inn keeper. At this place she died and was brought to New London for interment. f A grey headstone (of which a woodcut is given in Miss Caulkin's History of New Lon don) gives the date of her death as Sept. 25, 1727 in the 6 2d year of her age. The only child of Mrs. Knight, Elizabeth, relict of Col. John Livingstone, survived her and presented her inventory which comprised two farms in Mohegan with housing and mills ;^i6oo, and estate in Norwich ;^2io. Mrs. Knight was a woman of considerable distinction in her day. She certainly possessed more than a common portion of energy, talent and education. She wrote poetry and diaries, transact ed various kinds of business, speculated in Indian Lands, and at different times kept a tavern, managed a shop of mer chandise, and cultivated a farm. "J Elizabeth, Madam Knight's daughter, was born at Bos ton, May 8th, 1689, and was married there, by Dr. Increase Mather, to Colonel John Livingstone, of New London, Oct. I, 17 13. She was his second wife ; his first wife was Mary, only child of Gov. Fitz John Winthrop. She died January 12, 1712-13. Madam Knight met with and speaks of this lady in her travels in 1704. Col. Livingstone had no child- *IbidtHistory of New London, by Miss F. M . Caulkins, p. 371 tibid. 16 Preface ren by either wife. There is no monument or stone to the first. A table of freestone is erected to the memory of the second with the following inscription: "Interr^ under this stone is the body of Mdm. Elizabeth Livingstone, relict of Col. John Livingstone of New London who departed this life March 17th, A. D. 1735-6 in the 48th year of her age." In the inventory of her effects are the following items. A negro woman Rose, a man Pompey ; Indian man. Silver plate ;^234 13s — &c., &c.* Her husband. Col. John Livingstone, died in 1720, in England. James Douglas, of London, and his wife Eliza beth were executors. His estate was very small. Thus it will be seen that Madam Knight has left no de scendants to honor her name or be proud of her enterprise- — to cherish her memory or preserve her writings. The business which led Madam Knight to undertake her perilous journey was apparently the distribution of an estate. We were indebted, several years since, to Thomas Ruther ford Trowbridge Esq., [a descendant of the Thomas Trow bridge mentioned by Madam K. as her kinsman] for the statement that she is found at New Haven as a witness in 1704 to several deeds and settlements made of Caleb Trow bridge's estate [brother of Thomas Trowbridge] who was a merchant, a man of wealth, and who left no children. The name of his wife before marriage was not known. Mr. Trowbridge suggests that she may have been a sister of *ln a letter from Miss Caulkins dated April a6, 1858, in answer to a question what she had foimd in regard to Madam Knight since her histories were published, she says that she recently found some acquittances given to Mrs. Christopher Christophers as administratrix of Mrs. Livingstone's estate by heirs of the same in Boston and vicinity. They make no mention of relationship otherwise than merely acknowledging that they had received their proportion and were satisfied. These receipts were signed by the fol lowing persons : — Sarah Bass, of Boston. Widow Mary Bassett, of Boston. William Wyer and Elinor his wife, of Charlestown. Elizabeth Burr, Widow, of Charlestown. Robert Luist, Shopkeeper, of Charlestown. James Fluker, and liis wife, Elizabeth, do. Thos. Cheever and his wife, Abigail, of Chelsea. 17 Introductory Madam Knight. She had a large property in her own right, and the brothers and sisters of Caleb Trowbridge made an agreement with her that she should receive back all real and personal property which she had when married, and ;^500 additional, she agreeing to pay the debjs in Boston. John Prout and S. Knight witnessed all the papers which passed between them. The journal to which this introduction is made was pub lished in 1825 under the editorial supervision of Mr. Theo dore Dwight of New York. "It had been," says Miss Caulkins, "carefully preserved in manuscript in the Christophers family, to whom it came after the death of Mrs. Livingstone ; Sarah, wife of Christo pher Christophers, who was a Prout of New Haven and a relative, being appointed to Administer on Mrs. Livingstone's estate. From a descendant of this Mrs. Christophers, viz. Mrs. Ichabod Wetmore of Middletown, the manuscript was obtained for publication. It had been neatly copied into a small book."* From the inquiry started with regard to the authorship of this journal, and whether it was truth or fiction, at the time when we first read the article in Blackwood a letter was written by a friend of ours to Mr. Dwight who stated that unfortunately all but a single leaf of the original manuscript had been destroyed. We shortly after called upon him at his office in New York when he spoke of the loss with deep regret, and if time had allowed us would have shown the re maining leaf at his residence. Our curiosity to look upon the writing of Madam Knight has however been gratified and we are enabled to present here her autograph.f At the time of Madam Knight's journey. New York contained not much over five thousand inhabitants; Boston *"These particulars were communicated," says Miss Caulkins, "by the daughter of Mrs. Wetmore, Mrs. Andrew Mather of New London. tSee close of Journal. 18 Preface had a population at the same time of about ten thousand, double that of New York. The same rate of increase in the population of New York that there has been since this journey, and for the same length of time in the future, or to about the year of our Lord 2000, would give that city fifty millions of inhabitants, twice the population of the whole United States at the last census, — and would cover the whole Island of Manhattan with one person to about every square yard of ground. Then the Boston News Letter was the only paper pub lished in all the country, and but a very few copies once a week, each copy containing but four or five square feet of print. Now the newspaper and periodical literature publish ed in New York alone, would encircle the globe every year with a belt six feet wide, printed on both sides, or make a sheet printed on both sides, three feet wide, and a thousand miles in length, every week. In 1732 the Vade Mecum for America, or a Companion for traders and travellers, contains a table of distances with the names of the taverns on the route to New York via New London, — being very nearly the precise line of Madam Knight's journey, 28 years before. The entire distance to New York is there stated to be 271 miles. At the time of her journey a fortnight was consumed on the road ; when Mr. Dwight made his introduction he speaks of a day and a half as necessary and as a great advance in speed. At pres ent we are usually whirled over the ground in about eight hours, and it has been accomplished in five. Our western rivers, and those of the whole world with almost every ocean of the earth, now alive with steamboats, vying in splendor and size with the most gorgeous of palaces and shooting forward fifteen or twenty miles per hour, were then navigat ed by the diminutive sloop, skiff, or sailboat, or skimmed over by the shallow birch bark canoe, taking weeks to per- 19 Introductory form the voyage of a day. The communication of the tele graph shows a still more wonderful advance. We have truly come near verifying the words of Shakspeare in the mouth of Puck. "I'll put a girdle round the world in forty minutes." At the time of Madam Knight's journey our coun try was mostly a forest, and the physical forces which are now working such wonders around us lay comparatively inert. Since that period the hardy industry of our fathers has caused the desert to blossom like the rose, and comfort able and elegant dwellings are sprinkled over our land where then were the log hut or the Indian wigwam. Since then, the philosophy of a Franklin and the ingenuity of a Fulton, together with hundreds of others who have followed in their train have unlocked, or are still unlocking, the pent up powers of the material world, and those powers are now being applied to all the practical purposes of life ; to art, lo comotion, manufactures, and the press. The storehouse and the diffusion of knowledge are thus immeasurably in creased. Our descendants, one hundred and fifty years hence, may consider us as far behind them in the physical and materi al interests of Earth, as we now consider those in the days of Madam Knight behind us, yet, however these interests may then outstrip ours, if the practical principles of piety, purity, and patriotism, which produced such staunch charac ters in our fathers and mothers, are faithfully transmitted to future generations — our descendants will look back, for ages to come with a just pride at having had such an an cestry. Boston, June ist, 1858 W. R. D.['«'«] 20 Introduction to the Edition of Wilder and Campbell — 1825 — HIS is not a work of fiction, as the scar city of old American manuscripts may induce some to imagine ; but it is a faith ful copy from a diary in the author's own hand-writing, compiled soon after her return home, as it appears, from notes recorded daily, while on the road. She was a resident of Boston, and a lady of uncommon literary attainments, as well as of great taste and strength of mind. She was called Madam Knight, out of respect to her character, ac cording to a custom once common in New-England. The object proposed in printing this little work is not only to please those who have particularly studied the pro gressive history of our country, but to direct the attention of others to subjects of that description, unfashionable as they still are ; and also to remind the public that documents, even as unpretending as the following, may possess a real value, if they contain facts which will be hereafter sought for to illustrate interesting periods in our history. It is to be regretted that the brevity of the work should 21 Introduction have allowed the author so little room for the display of the cultivated mind and the brilliant fancy which frequently be tray themselves in the course of the narrative ; and no one can rise from the perusal without wishing some happy chance might yet discover more full delineations of life and charac ter from the same practiced hand. Subjects so closely connected with ourselves ought to excite a degree of curiosity and interest, while we are generally so ready to open our minds and our libraries to the most minute details of foreign governments, and the modes and men of distant countries, with which we can have only a collateral con nection. In copying the following work for the press, the original or thography has been carefully preserved, in some cases, it may be, so far as to retain the errors of the pen, for fear of in troducing any unwarrantable modernism. The punctuation was very hasty, and therefore has not been regarded. Two interruptions occur in the original near the commence ment, which could not be supplied ; and in a few instances it has been thought proper to make short omissions, but none of them materially affect the narrative. The reader will find frequent occasion to compare the state of things in the time of our author with that of the present period, particularly with regard to the number of in habitants, and the facilities and accommodations prepared for travelers. Over that part of the country where she traveled about a fortnight, on horseback, under the direction of a hired guide, with frequent risks of life and limb, and sometimes without food or shelter for many miles, we pro ceed at our ease, without exposure and almost without fatigue, in a day and a half, through a well peopled land, supplied with good stage-coaches and public houses, or the still greater luxuries of the elegant steam boats which dai ly traverse our waters. 22 CONTENTS PAGE Introductory Letter by Donald G. Mitchell . 7 Introductory Preface ..... 9 Introduction to the Edition of Wilder and Campbell 21 The Journal of Madam Knight . 27 A Note in Explanation . . 77 23 sSu^^ ^^^^^sj^S, The Journal of Madam Knight ^M ^^CaJF: Journal of Madam Knight ONDAY, Octb'r. y* second, 1 704. — About three o'clock afternoon, I begun my Jour ney from Boston to New- Haven ; being about two Hun dred Mile. My Kinsman, Capt. Robert Luist, waited on me as farr as Dedham, where I was to meet y^ Western post. I vissitted the Reverd. Mr. Belcher, y« Minister of y^ town, and tarried there till evening, in hopes y^ post would come along. But he not coming, I resolved to go to Bil- lingses where he used to lodg, being i 2 miles further. But being ignorant of the way, Mad™ Billings, seing no persuasions of her good spouses or hers could prevail with me to Lodg there that night. Very kindly went wyth 27 Journal of me to ye Tavern, where I hoped to get my guide. And desired the Hostess to inquire of her guests whether any of ,them would go with mec. But they being tyed by the Lipps to a pewter engine, scarcely allowed them selves time to say what clownish * * [Here half a page of the MS. is gone.] * Peices of eight, I told her no, I would not be accessary to such extortion. Then John shan't go, sais shee. No, in deed, shan't hee ; And held forth at that rate a long time, that I began to fear I was got a- mong the Quaking tribe, beleeving not a Limbertong'd sister among them could out do Madm. Hostes. Upon this, to my no small surprise, son John arrose, and gravely demanded what I would give him to go with me? Give you, sais I, are you John ? Yes, says he, for want of a Better ; And behold ! this John look't as old as my Host, and perhaps had bin a man in the last Century. Well, Mr. John, sais I, make your demands. Why, half a pss. of eight and a dram, sais John. I agreed, and gave him a Dram (now) in hand to bind the bargain. My hostess catechis'd John for going so cheep, saying his poor wife would break her heart * * 28 Madam Knight [Here another half page of the MS. is gone.] His shade on his Hors resembled a Globe on a Gate post. His habitt, Hors and furniture, its looks and goings Incomparably answered the rest. Thus Jogging on with an easy pace, my Guide telling mee it was dangero's to Ride hard in the Night, [wh'^^ his horse had the sence to avoid,) Hee entertained me with the Adventurs he had passed by late Rideing, and eminent Dangers he had escaped, so that, Re- membring the Hero's in Parismus and the Knight of the Oracle, I didn't know but I had mett w''' a Prince disguis'd. When we had Ridd about an how'r, wee come into a thick swamp, wch. by Reason of a great fogg, very much startled mee, it being now very Dark, But nothing dismay'd John : Hee had encountered a thousand and a thou sand such Swamps, having a Universall Knowl edge in the woods ; and readily Answered all my inquiries wch. were not a few. In about an how'r, or something more, af ter we left the Swamp, we come to Billinges, where I was to Lodg. My Guide dismount ed and very Complasantly help't me down and shewd the door, signing to me w''^ his hand to Go in; w«=^ I Gladly did — But had not 29 Journal of gone many steps into the Room, ere I was In- terogated by a young Lady I understood after wards was the Eldest daughter of the family, with these, or words to this purpose, (viz.) Law for mee — what in the world brings You here at this time a night ? — I never see a wo man on the Rode so Dreadfull late, in all the days of my versall life. Who are You ? Where are You going ? I'me scar'd out of my witts — with much now of the same Kind. I stood aghast, Prepareing to reply, when in comes my Guide — to him Madam turn'd, Roreing out : Lawfull heart, John, is it You ? — how de do ! Where in the world are you go ing with this woman ? Who is she ? John made no Ansr. but sat down in the corner, fumbled out his black Junk, and saluted that instead of Debb ; she then turned agen to mee and fell anew into her silly questions, without asking me to sitt down. I told her shee treated me very Rudely, and I did not think it my duty to answer her unmannerly Questions. But to get ridd of them, I told her I come there to have the post's company with me to-morrow on my Journey, &c. Miss star'd awhile, drew a chair, bid me sitt. And then run up stairs and putts on two or three Rings, (or else I had 30 Madam Knight not seen them before,) and returning, sett herself just before me, showing the way to Reding, that I might see her Ornaments, per haps to gain the more respect. But her Gra- nam's new Rung sow, had it appeared, would affected me as much. I paid honest John w*'* money and dram according to contract, and Dismist him, and pray'd Miss to shew me where I must Lodg. Shee conducted me to a parlour in a little back Lento, w'^^ was al most fill'd w* the bedsted, w*^^ was so high that I was forced to climb on a chair to gitt up to y^ wretched bed that lay on it; on w*=^ having Strecht my tired Limbs, and lay'd my head on a Sad-colourd pillow, I began to think on the transactions of y^ past day. UESDAY, October y^ third, about 8 in the morning, I with the Post proceeded forward without observing any thing remarkable ; And about two, afternoon. Arrived at the Post's second stage, where the western Post mett him and exchanged Letters. Here, having called for something to eat, y« woman bro't in a Twisted thing like a cable, but something whiter ; and laying it on the bord, tugg'd for life to bring it into a capacity to spread ; w^^ having w* great pains accom- 31 Journal of plished, shee serv'd in a dish of Pork and Cabage, I suppose the remains of Dinner. The sause was of a deep Purple, W=^ I tho't was boil'd in her dye Kettle ; the bread was Indian, and every thing on the Table service Agreeable to these. I, being hungry, gott a little down ; but my stomach was soon cloy'd, and what cabbage I swallowed serv'd me for a Cudd the whole day after. Having here discharged the Ordnary for self and Guide, (as I understood was the cus tom,) About Three afternoon went on with my Third Guide, who Rode very hard; and having crossed Providence Ferry, we come to a River w^^^^ they Generally Ride thro'. But I dare not venture ; so the Post got a Ladd and Cannoo to carry me to tother side, and hee rid thro' and Led my hors. The Cannoo was very small and shallow, so that when we were in she seem'd redy to take in water, which greatly terrified mee, and caused me to be very circumspect, sitting with my hands fast on each side, my eyes stedy, not daring so much as to lodg my tongue a hair's breadth more on one side of my mouth then tother, nor so much as think on Lott's wife, for a wry thought would have oversett our wherey : But was soon put out of this pain, by feeling the 32 Madam Knight Cannoo on shore, w<* I as soon almost saluted with my feet; and Rewarding my sculler, again mounted and made the best of our way forwards. The Rode here was very even and ye day pleasant, it being now near Sunsett. But the Post told mee we had neer 14 miles to Ride to the next Stage, (where we were to Lodg.) I askt him of the rest of the Rode, foreseeing wee must travail in the night. Hee told mee there was a bad River we were to Ride thro', w*^'^ was so very firce a hors could sometimes hardly stem it : But it was but narrow, and wee should soon be over. I can not express The concern of mind this relation sett me in : no thoughts but those of the dang'ros River could entertain my Imagina tion, and they were as formidable as varios, still Tormenting me with blackest Ideas of my Approching fate — Sometimes seing my self drowning, otherwhiles drowned, and at the best like a holy Sister Just come out of a Spiritual Bath in dripping Garments. Now was the Glorious Luminary, w* his swift Coursers arrived at his Stage, leaving poor me w*^ the rest of this part of the lower world in darkness, with which wee were soon Surrounded. The only Glimering we now had was from the spangled Skies, Whose Im- 33 Journal of perfect Reflections rendered every Object formidable. Each lifeless Trunk, with its shatter'd Limbs, appear'd an Armed Enymie ; and every little stump like a Ravenous devour- er. Nor could I so much as discern my Guide, when at any distance, which added to the terror. Thus, absolutely lost in Thought, and dying with the very thoughts of drowning, I come up w^ the post, who I did not see till even with his Hors : he told mee he stopt for mee ; and wee Rode on Very deliberatly a few paces, when we entred a Thickett of Trees and Shrubbs, and I perceived by the Hors's going, we were on the descent of a Hill, w'^^' as wee come neerer the bottom, 'twas totaly dark w"^ the Trees that surrounded it. But I knew by the Going of the Hors wee had entred the water, w^h my Guide told mee was the haz- zardos River he had told me off ; and hee. Rid ing up close to my Side, Bid me not fear — we should be over Imediatly. I now ralyed all the Courage I was mistriss of, Knowing that I must either Venture my fate of drowning, or be left like y^ Children in the wood. So, as the Post bid me, I gave Reins to my Nagg ; and sitting as Stedy as Just before in the Can noo, in a few minutes got safe to the other 34 Madam Knight side, which hee told mee was the Narragan sett country. Here We found great difficulty in Travail ing, the way being very narrow, and on each side the Trees and bushes gave us very unpleas- ent welcomes w* their Branches and bow's, w'^^ wee could not avoid, it being so exceed ing dark. My Guide, as before so now, putt on harder than I, w* my weary bones, could follow ; so left mee and the way beehind him. Now Returned my distressed aprehensions of the place where I was : the dolesome woods, my Company next to none. Going I knew not whither, and encompased w^^ Terrifying dark ness ; The least of which was enough to start le a more Masculine courage. Added to which the Reflections, as in the afternoon of ye day that my Call was very Questionable, w^ii till then I had not so Prudently as I ought considered. Now, coming to y^ foot of a hill, I found great difficulty in ascending ; But be ing got to the Top, was there amply recom- penced with the friendly Appearance of the Kind Conductress of the night. Just then Ad vancing above the Horisontall Line. The Raptures W^^ the Sight of that fair Planett produced in mee, caus'd mee, for the Moment to forgett my present wearyness and past toils, 35 Journal of and Inspir'd me for most of the remaining way with very divirting tho'ts, some of which, with the other Occurances of the day, I re served to note down when I should come to my Stage. My tho'ts on the sight of the moon were to this purpose : Fair Cynthia, all the Homage that I may Unto a Creature, unto thee I pay ; In Lonesome woods to meet so kind a guide. To Mee's more worth than all the world beside. "Some Joy I felt just now, when safe got or'e Yon Surly River to this Rugged shore. Deeming Rough welcomes from these clownish Trees, Better than Lodgings w* Nereidees. Yet swelling fears surprise ; all dark appears — Nothing but Light can disipate those fears. My fainting vitals can't lend strength to say. But softly whisper, O I wish 'twere day. The murmur hardly warm'd the Ambient air, E're thy Bright Aspect rescues from dispair : Makes the old Hagg her sable mantle loose. And a Bright Joy do's through my Soul diffuse. The Boistero's Trees now Lend a Passage Free, And pleasent prospects thou giv'st light to see. From hence wee kept on, with more ease y" before: the way being smooth and even, the night warm and serene, and the Tall and thick Trees at a distance, especially w^^ the moon glar'd light through the branches, fill'd my Imagination w"^ the pleasent delusion of a Sumpteous citty, fill'd w^^ famous Buildings 36 Madam Knight and churches, w'^ their spiring steeples. Bal conies, Galleries and I know not what : Grand- uers w<^^ I had heard of, and w^^ the stories of foreign countries had given me the Idea of. Here stood a Lofty church — ^there is a steeple. And there the Grand Parade — O see the people ! That Famouse Castle there, were I but nigh. To see the mote and Bridg and walls so high — They'r very fine ! sais my deluded eye. Being thus agreably entertain' d without a thou't of any thing but thoughts themselves, I on a suden was Rous'd from these pleasing Im aginations, by the Post's sounding his horn, which assured mee hee was arrived at the Stage, where we were to Lodg : and that musick was then most musickall and agreeable to mee. Being come to mr. Havens', I was very civilly Received, and courteously entertained, in a clean comfortable House ; and the Good woman was very active in helping off my Rid ing clothes, and then ask't what I would eat. I told her I had some Chocolett, if shee would prepare it ; which with the help of some Milk, and a little clean brass Kettle, she soon effected to my satisfaction. I then be took me to my Apartment, w^^ was a little Room parted from the Kitchen by a single bord partition ; where, after I had noted the Occurrances of the past day, I went to bed, 37 Journal of which, tho' pretty hard. Yet neet and hand some. But I could get no sleep, because of the Clamor of some of the Town tope-ers in next Room, Who were entred into a strong debate concerning y^ Signify cation of the name of their Country, (viz.) Narraganset. On£ said it was named so by y^ Indians, because there grew a Brier there, of a prodigious Highth and bigness, the like hardly ever known, called by the Indians Narragansett; And quotes an Indian of so Barberous a name for his Author, that I could not write it. His Antagonist Replyed no — It was from a Spring it had its name, w'^*^ hee well knew where it was, which was extreem cold in summer, and as Hott as could be imagined in the winter, which was much resorted too by the natives, and by them called Narragansett, (Hott and Cold,) and that was the originall of their places name — with a thousand Impertinances not worth notice, w^^ He utter'd with such a Rore ing voice and Thundering blows with the fist of wickedn^ess on the Table, that it peirced my very head. I heartily fretted, and wish't 'um tongue tyed ; but w* as little succes as a freind of mine once, who was (as shee said) kept a whole night awake, jon a Jorny, by a country Left, and a Sergent, Insigne and a Deacon, 38 Madam Knight contriving how to bring a triangle into a Square. They kept calling for tother Gill, w^h while they were swallowing, was some Intermission ; But presently, like Oyle to fire, encreased the flame. I set my Candle on a Chest by the bed side, and setting up, fell to my old way of composing my Resentments, in the following manner: I ask thy Aid, O Potent Rum ! To Charm these wrangling Topers Dum. Thou hast their Giddy Brains possest — The man confounded w* the Beast — And I, poor I, can get no rest. Intoxicate them with thy fumes : O still their Tongues till morning comes ! And I knoj[^ not but my wishes took effect; for the dispute soon ended w^^ 'tother Dram ; and so Good night! EDENSDAY, Octob^ 4th. About four in the morning, we set out for Kingston (for so was the Town called) with a french Doc- ter in our company. Hee and y^ Post put on very furiously, so that I could not keep up with them, only as now and then they'd stop till they see mee. This Rode was poorly furnished w*^ accommodations for Travellers, so that we were forced to ride 22 miles by the post's account, but neerer thirty by mine,- 39 Journal of before wee could bait so much as our Horses, w^ I exceedingly complained of. But the post encourag'd mee, by saying wee should be well accommodated anon at mr. Devills, a few miles further. But I questioned whether we ought to go to the Devil to be helpt out of affliction. However, like the rest of Deluded souls that post to ye Infernal denn. Wee made all posible speed to this Devil's Habitation ; where alliting, in full assurance of good ac commodation, wee were going in. But meeting his two daughters, as I suposed twins, they so neerly resembled each other, both in features and habit, and look't as old as the Divel himselfe, and quite as UglyjWe desired entertainm't, but could hardly get a word out of 'um, till with our Importunity, telling them our necesity, &c. they call'd the old Sophister, who was as sparing of his words as his daughters had bin, and no, or none, was the reply's hee made us to our demands. Hee differed only in this from the old fellow in to'ther Country : hee let us depart. However, I thought it proper to warn poor Travailers to endeavour to Avoid falling into circumstances like ours, W^^ at our next Stage I sat down and did as followeth: May all that dread the cruel feind of night 40 Madam Knight Keep on, and not at this curs't Mansion light. 'Tis Hell ; 'tis Hell ! and Devills here do dwell : Here dwells the Devill — surely this's Hell. Nothing but Wants : a drop to cool yo'r Tongue Cant be procur'd these cruel Feinds among. Plenty of horrid Grins and looks sevear. Hunger and thirst. But pitty's bannish'd here — The Right hand keep, if Hell on Earth you fear ! Thus leaving this habitation of cruelty, we went forward; and arriving at an Ordinary about two mile further, found tollerable ac commodation. But our Hostes, being a pretty full mouth'd old creature, entertain'd our fellow travailer, ye french Docter, w'^ Inum- irable complaints of her bodily infirmities; and whisperd to him so lou'd, that all ye House had as full a hearing as hee ; which was very divirting to ye company, (of which there was a great many,) as one might see by their sneering. But poor weary I slipt out to enter my mind in my Jornal, and left my Great Landly with her Talkative Guests to themselves. From hence we proceeded (about ten fore noon) through the Narragansett country, pretty Leisurely ; and about one afternoon come to Paukataug River, w^^^ was about two hundred paces over, and now very high, and no way over to to'ther side but this. I darid 41 Journal of not venture to Ride thro, my courage at best in such cases but small. And now at the Low est Ebb, by reason of my weary, very weary, hungry, and uneasy Circumstances. So take- ing leave of my company, tho' w* no little Reluctance, that I could not proceed w'^ them on my Jorny, Stop at a little cottage Just by the River, to wait the Waters falling, w^^ the old man that lived there said would be in a little time, and he would conduct me safe over. This little Hutt was one of the wretchedest I ever saw a habitation for human creatures. It was suported with shores enclosed with Clapbords, laid on Lengthways, and so much asunder, that the Light come throu' every where ; the doore tyed on w* a cord in ye place of hinges ; The floor the bear earth ; no windows but such as the thin covering afford ed, nor any furniture but a Bedd w^ a glass Bottle hanging at ye head on't ; an earthan cupp, a small pewter Bason, A Bord w^^ sticks to stand on, instead of a table, and a block or two in ye corner instead of chairs. The family were the old man, his wife and two Children ; all and every part being the picture of poverty. Notwithstanding both the Hutt and its Inhab- ance were very clean and tydee : to the cross ing the Old Proverb, that bare walls make 42 Madam Knight giddy hows-wifes. I Blest myselfe that I was not one of this misserable crew; and the Impressions their wretchedness formed in me caused mee on ye very Spott to say : Tho' 111 at ease, A stranger and alone. All my fatigu's shall not extort a grone. These Indigents have hunger wth their ease ; Their best is wors behalfe then my disease. Their Misirable hutt wch Heat and Cold Alternately without Repulse do hold ; Their Lodgings thyn and hard, their Indian fare. The mean Apparel which the wretches wear. And their ten thousand ills wch can't be told. Makes nature er'e 'tis midle age'd look old. When I reflect, my late fatigues do seem Only a notion or forgotten Dreem. I had scarce done thinking, when an Indian like Animal come to the door, on a creature very much like himselfe, in mien and feature, as well as Ragged cloathing ; and having 'litt, makes an Awkerd Scratch w* his Indian shoo, and a Nodd, sitts on ye block, fumbles out his black Junk, dipps it in ye Ashes, and presents it piping hott to his muscheeto's, and fell to suck ing like a calf, without speaking, for near a quarter of an hower. At length the old man said how do's Sarah do .? who I understood was the wretches wife, and Daughter to ye old 43 Journal of man : he Replyed, — as well as can be expected, &c. So I remembred the old say, and suposed I knew Sarah's case. Butt hee being, as I understood, going over the River, as ugly as hee was, I was glad to ask him to show me ye way to Saxtons, at Stoningtown ; wel» he prom ising, I ventur'd over w'*» the old mans assist ance; who having rewarded to content, with my Tattertailed guide, I Ridd on very slowly thro' Stoningtown, where the Rode was very Stony and uneven. I asked the fellow, as we went, divers questions of the place and way, &c. I being arrived at my country Saxtons, at Stonington, was very well accommodated both as to victuals and Lodging, the only Good of both I had found since my setting out. Here I heard there was an old man and his Daughter to come that way, bound to N. London; and being now destitute of a Guide, gladly waited for them, being in so good a harbour, and accordingly, Thirsday, Octob'' ye 5 th, about 3 in the afternoon, I sat forward with neighbor Polly and Jemima, a Girl about 18 Years old, who hee said he had been to fetch out of the Narragansetts, and said they had Rode thirty miles that day, on a sory lean jade, w* only a Bagg under her for a pillion, which the poor Girl often complain' d was 44 Madam Knight very uneasy. Wee made Good speed along, w'^^ made poor Jemima make many a sow'r face, the mare being a very hard trotter ; and after many a hearty and bitter Oh, she at length Low'd out : Lawful Heart father ! this bare mare hurts mee Dingeely, I'me direfull sore I vow ; with many words to that purpose: poor Child sais Gaffer — she us't to serve your mother so. I don't care how mother us't to do, quoth Jem ima, in a pasionate tone. At which the old man Laught, and kik't his Jade o' the side, which made her Jolt ten times harder. About seven that Evening, we come to New London Ferry : here, by reason of a very high wind, we mett with great difficulty in getting over — the Boat tos't exceedingly, and our Horses capper' d at a very surprizing Rate, and set us all in a fright; especially poor Jemima, who desired her father to say so jack to the Jade, to make her stand. But the careless par ent, taking no notice of her repeated desires. She Rored out in a Passionate manner : Pray suth father. Are you deaf? Say so Jack to the Jade, I tell you. The Dutiful Parent obey's; say ing so Jack, so Jack, as gravely as if hee'd bin to saying Catechise after Young Miss, who with her fright look't of all coulers in ye Rain 45 Journal of Bow. Being safely arrived at the house of Mrs. Prentices in N. London, I treated neighbour Polly and daughter for their divirting com pany, and bid them farewell ; and between nine and ten at night waited on the Rev^ Mr. Gur- don Saltonstall, minister of the town, who kindly Invited me to Stay that night at his house, where I was very handsomely and plen tifully treated and Lodg'd; and made good the Great Character I had before heard con cerning him : viz. that hee was the most affable, courteous, Genero's and best of men. RIDAY, Octor 6th. I got up very early, in Order to hire some body to go with mee to New Haven, being in Great parplexity at the thoughts of proceeding alone ; which my most hospitable entertainer observing, him selfe went, and soon return' d w* a young Gentleman of the town, who he could confide in to Go with mee ; and about eight this morning, w^ Mr. Joshua Wheeler my new Guide, takeing leave of this worthy Gentle man, Wee advanced on towards Seabrook. The Rodes all along this way are very bad, Incumbered w* Rocks and mountainos pas sages, weJ* were very disagreeable to my tired 46 Madam Knight carcass ; but we went on with a moderate pace w<^^ made ye Journy more pleasent. But after about eight miles Rideing, in going over a Bridge under w^^ the River Run very swift, my hors stumbled, and very narrowly 'scaped falling over into the water; w'^^ extreemly frightened mee. But through God's Good ness I met with no harm, and mounting agen, in about half a miles Rideing, come to an or dinary, were well entertained by a woman of about seventy and vantage, but of as Sound Intellectuals as one of seventeen. Shee enter tain'd Mr. Wheeler w* some passages of a Wedding awhile ago at a place hard by, the Brides-Groom being about her Age or some thing above. Saying his Children was dred- . fully against their fathers marrying, w^^^ shee condemned them extreemly for. From hence wee went pretty briskly for ward, and arriv'd at Saybrook ferry about two of the Clock afternoon ; and crossing it, wee call'd at an Inn to Bait, (foreseeing we should not have such another Opportunity till we come to Killingsworth.) Landlady comes in, with her hair about her ears, and hands at full pay scratching. Shee told us shee had some mutton w*^'* shee would broil, w^^ I was glad to hear; But I supose forgot to wash her 47 Journal of scratchers ; in a little time shee brot it in ; but it being pickled, and my Guide said it smelt strong of head sause, we left it, and p'^ six pence a piece for our Dinners, w^^ was only smell. So wee putt forward with all speed, and about seven at night come to Killingsworth, and were tollerably well wi^th Travillers fare, and Lodgd there that night. ATURDAY, Oct. 7th, we sett out early in the Morning, and being something unaquainted w* the way, having ask't it of some wee mett, they told us wee must Ride a mile or two and turne down a Lane on the Right hand ; and by their Direction wee Rode on but not Yet comeing to ye turning, we mett a Young fellow and ask't him how farr it was to the Lane which turn'd down towards Guil ford. Hee said wee must Ride a little further, and turn down by the Corner of uncle Sams Lott. My Guide vented his Spleen at the Lubber ; and we soon after came into the Rhode, and keeping still on, without any thing further Remarkabell, about two a clock after noon we arrived at New Haven, where I was received with all Posible Respects and civility. Here I discharged Mr. Wheeler with a reward 48 Madam Knight to his satisfaction, and took some time to rest after so long and toilsome a Journey ; And In form' d myselfe of the manners and customs of the place, and at the same time employed my selfe in the afair I went there upon. They are Govern' d by the same Laws as wee in Boston, (or little differing,) thr'out this whole Colony of Connecticot, And much the same way of Church Government, and many of them good. Sociable people, and I hope Religious too : but a little too much Independ- ant in their principalis, and, as I have been told, were formerly in their Zeal very Riggid in their Administrations towards such as their Lawes made Offenders, even to a harmless Kiss or Innocent merriment among Young people. Whipping being a frequent and counted an easy Punishment, about w^^^ as other Crimes, the Judges were absolute in their Sentances. They told mee a pleasant story about a pair of Justices in those parts, w'^^ I may not omit the relation of. A negro Slave belonging to a man in y* Town, stole a hogs head from his master, and gave or sold it to an Indian, native of the place. The Indian sold it in the neighbour hood, and so the theft was found out. There upon the Heathen was Seized, and carried to 49 Journal of the Justices House to be Examined. But his worship (it seems) was gone into the feild, with a Brother in office, to gather in his Pom- pions. Whither the malefactor is hurried. And Complaint made, and satisfaction in the name of Justice demanded. Their Worships cann't proceed in form without a Bench: whereupon they Order one to be Imediately erected, which, for want of fitter materials, they made with pompions — which being fin ished, down setts their Worships, and the Malefactor call'd, and by the Senior Justice In terrogated after the following manner. You Indian why did You steal from this man ? You sho'dn't do so — it's a Grandy wicked thing to steal. Hol't Hol't, cryes Justice Jun""' Brother, You speak negro to him. I'le ask him. You sirrah, why did You steal this man's Hoggshead ? Hoggshead ? (replys the Indian,) me no stomany. No ? says his Worship ; and pulling off his hatt. Patted his own head with his hand, sais, Tatapa — You, Tatapa — you ; all one this. Hoggshead all one this. Hah ! says Netop, now me * stomany that. Whereupon the Company fell into a great fitt of Laughter, even to Roreing. Silence is co- manded, but to no effect : for they continued perfectly Shouting. Nay, sais his worship, in 50 Madam Knight an angry tone, if it be so, take mee off the Bench. Their Diversions in this part of the Coun try are on Lecture days and Training days mostly : on the former there is Riding from town to town. And on training dayes The Youth divert themselves by Shooting at the Target, as they call it, (but it very much resembles a pil lory,) where hee that hitts neer est the white has some yards of Red Ribbin presented him, well being tied to his hattband, the two ends streeming down his back, he is Led away in Triumph, w*^ great applause, as the winners of the Olympiack Games. They generally marry very young : the males oftener as I am told un der twentie than above; they generally make public wedings, and have a way something singular (as they say) in some of them, viz. Just before Joyning hands the Bridegroom quitts the place, who is soon followed by the Bridesmen, and as it were, dragg'd back to duty — being the reverse to ye former practice among us, to steal m^ Pride. There are great plenty of Oysters all along by the sea side, as farr as I Rode in the Coll- ony, and those very good. And they Gener ally lived very well and comfortably in their 51 Journal of famelies. But too Indulgent (especially ye farmers) to their slaves : sufering too great fam iliarity from them, permitting y™ to sit at Table and eat with them, (as they say to save time,) and into the dish goes the black hoof as freely as the white hand. They told me that there was a farmer lived nere the Town where I lodgd who had some difference w* his slave, concerning something the master had promised him and did not punctualy per form ; well caused some hard words between them ; But at length they put the matter to Arbitration and Bound themselves to stand to the award of such as they named — w'=^ done, the Arbitrators Having heard the Allegations of both parties. Order the master to pay 40^ to black face, and acknowledge his fault. And so the matter ended: the poor master very honestly standing to the award. There are every where in the Towns as I passed, a Number of Indians the Natives of the Country, and are the most salvage of all the salvages of that kind that I had ever Seen : little or no care taken (as I heard upon en quiry) to make them otherwise. They have in some places Landes of their owne, and Gov- ern'd by Law's of their own making ; — they marry many wives and at pleasure put them 52 Madam Knight away, and on the ye least dislike or fickle hu mour, on either side, saying stand away to one another is a sufficient Divorce. And indeed those uncomely Stand aways are too much in Vougue among the English in this (Indulgent Colony) as their Records plentifully prove, and that on very trivial matters, of which some have been told me, but are not proper to be Related by a Female pen, tho some of that foolish sex have had too large a share in the story. If the natives committ any crime on their own precincts among themselves, ye English takes no Cognezens of. But if on the Eng lish ground, they are punishable by our Laws. They mourn for their Dead by blacking their faces, and cutting their hair, after an Awkerd and frightfuU manner; But can't bear You should mention the names of their dead Re lations to them : they trade most for Rum, for w<* they<^ hazzard their very lives ; and the English fit them Generally as well, by season ing it plentifully with water. They give the title of merchant to every trader; who Rate their Goods according to the time and spetia they pay in : viz. Pay, mony. Pay as mony, and trusting. Pay is Grain, Pork, Beef, &c. at the prices sett by the 53 Journal of General Court that Year ; mony is pieces of Eight, Ryalls, or Boston or Bay shillings (as they call them,) or Good hard money, as some times silver coin is termed by them; also Wampom, viz'- Indian beads w^li serves for change. Pay as mony is provisions, as afores"(iv,', ; ' ¥