>Y2&LE«¥IM1IVEI^2W« - ILIHBlK^JSy • Bequeathed by Br. Jacob Porter 1846 Wert ( > East Longitude from ~s&\c Colleic occjyn, Sc. If.lf. TRAVELS; NEW-ENGLAND AND NEW-YORK TIMOTHY DWIGHT, S. T. D. LL. D. LATE PRESIDENT OF YALE COLLEGE ; AUTHOR OF THEOLOGY EXPLAINED AND DEFENDED. IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. II. NEW-HAVEN: PUBLISHED BY TIMOTHY DWIGHT. S. CONVERSE, PRINTER. 1821. CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. JOURNEY TO BERWICK. LETTER L. Page. Carver — Middleborough — Taunton ; its manufactures — Halifax — Bridgewa ter — Honourable Hugh Orr— Raynham^-Longevity of the Leonard family — Philip, King of the Wampanoags— Attleborough— Rev. Habijah Weld— Re- hoboth — Indian depredations — North-Providence, ... - 9 LETTER LI. Providence — CoUege — Public Buildings — Major-General Greene — Commerce of Providence, -----__. --29 LETTER LII. Rhode-Island Turnpikes — Johnstown — Scituate — Coventry — Sterling — Plain- field, ---- 37 LETTER LIII. Preston — Lisbon The Shetucket Quinibaug and Thames Rivers Nor wich — Governour Huntington, - 40 LETTER LIV. MontviUe — Moheagan Tribe of Indians — Uncas the chief Sachem — Return, 44 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. LETTER I. North-Haven — Wallingford — Meriden — Berlin — Mount Lamentation — Manu facture of Tin Ware, ------.---49 LETTER II. Hatfield — Whateley — Deerfield — Battles with the Indians at Bloody Brook and Hatfield — Deerfield River Burning of Deerfield, and captivity of Rev. Mr. Williams, and many of the inhabitants, ----- 56 LETTER III. Progress of Vegetation — Greenfield — Bernardston — Gill — Battle with the In dians, called the Fall ^gA<— Northfield— Attacks of the Indians, - - 72 CONTENTS. LETTER IV. Hinsdale— Indications of a Volcano in West River Mountain— Defeat of the In dians by Captain Hobbs— Capture of Bridgman's Fort— Account of the cap tivity of Mrs. Howe ; heruufftrings, and return to New-England, - 79 LETTER V. Chesterfield— Westmoreland— Walpole— Colonel Bellows, - - - 88 LETTER VI. Bellows Falls — Cavities worn in the rocks by the river— Canal— The first bridge over Connecticut river erected at this place by Colonel Enoch Hale — Gov- ernour's Meadow, --- -- .-91 LETTER VII. Charlestown — Indian depredations — Gallant conduct of Captain Phineas Ste vens^ - - j 100 LETTER VIII. Claremont — Cornish — Windsor — Aschutney — Luminous spot on the mountain — Hartland — Plainfield — Lebanon — Lebanon-Falls, .... ]rj4 LETTER IX. Origin of Dartmouth College — Rev. Sampson Occom — Funds of the College Its number of students and officers — Its course of studies and buildings Ex treme difficulty of educating Indian youth — Dartmouth — Hanover, - - 111 LETTER X. Lyme — Orford — Piermont — Haverhill, ... . jjg LETTER XI. Lower Amonoosuc — Bath — Concord — Girdled trees — Log-houses — Letter of Rev. Mr. Patten — Dangerous state of the roads and bridges in the new set tlements — Littleton, - - ... jgo LETTER XII. Public roads— Dalton — Lancaster; slow progress of its settlement — Climate of this region — Snow storms and prevailing winds singularly affected by the proximity of the White Mountains — Extensive and beautiful landscape, 134 LETTER XIII. Character and Enterprise of Rosebrook, - - - . j^g LETTER XIV. Notch of the White Mountains — Head waters of the Amonoosuc and the Saco Appearance of an American Forest when affected by i'rost — Magnificent ap pearance of the White Mountains, - ... . .„ CONTENTS. LETTER XV. Bartlctt — Politician — Conway, - - - - 154 LETTER XVI. . Fryburgh — Hiram — Observations on Mount Washington—Standish— Gorham-- Falmouth, ... . .... 160 LETTER XVII. Portland — Its Buildings and Commerce — Attacks from the Indians — Wantonly destroyed by Capt. Mowat in 1775, - - - 168 LETTER XVIII. Story of General WadsworLh — Attack on his house — His capture, - - 174 LETTER XIX. Story of General Wadsworth concluded — Major Burton, - - 184 LETTER XX. Vernon — Tolland — Stafford — Mineral Spring — South-Brimfield — Kittery — York— Wells— Kennebunk— Portland, 201 LETTER XXI. Falmouth — North- Yarmouth — Freeport — Brunswick — Bowdoin College, 210 LETTER XXII. Bath — Woolwich — Dresden — Pittston — Gardiner — Augusta — Hallowell— » Litchfield — Topsham — The Ameriscoggin — The Kennebeck, 215 LETTER XXIII. Tornado — Scarborough — Saco — Biddeford — Arundel, - 224 LETTER XXIV. Maine — Its Climate — Coast — Soil— Manner of Settlement — Difficulties encoun tered by the first settlers— Their Character, - - 230 LETTER XXV. Madbury — Epping — Chester — Londonderry — Nottingham West — Dunstable, N. -H. — Dunstable, Mass. — Lovewell's Excursions — Groton — Indian Dep redations, - - - 245 LETTER XXVI. Shirley — Lancaster — Captivity of Mrs. Rowlandson — Mr. Sawyer — Sterling — Princeton — Rutland — Oakham New-Braintree — -Brimfield Monson — South-Wilbraham, ... - - 255 LETTER XXVII. County of Hampshire — Rev. Dr. Backus, - - 267 6 CONTENTS. Page. LETTER XXVIII. Ellington— East- Windsor— Fragment of Indian History— East-Hartford, 279 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. LETTER I. New Road from New-Haven to Hartford— Whitney's Cotton Gin, and Manu factory of fire-arms— Guilford — Brattleborough — West River, - 28S LETTER II. Dummerston — Putney — Westminster— Rockingham— Bethlehem — Wentworth Mountains — Hardships endured by the first settlers — Notch of the White Mountains — Jefferson — Fine view of two Cascades, - - 294 LETTER III. Northumberland — Little Moosehillock — Upper Amonoosuc — Stratford — The Peaks — Wales's location — Cockburn — Colebrook Road to Hallowell Grand Monadnoc — Canaan — Settlements beyond the Line on the St. Fran cis — Enterprize of the New-England people, - - 303 LETTER IV. Stuart — Salmon — Vegetation and Products of this region — Account of Maize — Native Animals —Return to Lancaster, - - - - 310 LETTER V. Weather in the country about Lancaster — Prospect at Newbury — Vegetation at Lancaster, - - - ... 315 LETTER VI. Connecticut River, .... . gjg LETTER VII. Valley of the Connecticut, g.7g LETTER VIII. Inhabitants of the Connecticut Valley, - 303 LETTER IX. Newbury — Observations on the blasting of wheat — Bradford — Fairlee 339 LETTER X. Keene, - - o*^ LETTER XI. Swansey — Winchester — The Ashuelot — Miller's River and Falls Montague Sunderland — Mount Toby — Cave, - - . «,,-. CONTENTS. 7 LETTER XII. Shutesbury — Ephraim Pratt — Amherst— Judge Strong, - - 358 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. LETTER I. Woodbridge — Salem — Waterbury — Watertown — Litchfield — The late Gov- ernour Wolcott — Goshen — Cornwall — Canaan — Sheffield — Taghkannuc Mountain — Great-Barrington — Monument Mountain — Stockbridge — Rev. John Sargeant — Mohekaneew or Stockbridge Indians — Tradition concerning their origin, &c. — Lenox — Pittsfield — Lanesborough— New-Ashford, - 365 LETTER II. Saddle Mountain— Williamstown— Colonel Williams— Williams College, 389 LETTER III. Donations for the promotion of learning — Insect — Rev. Mr. Swift, - - 393 LETTER IV. Pownal — Bennington — Grass-hoppers — Shattsbury— Violent rain— Arlington — Sunderland — Colonel Ethan Allen — Manchester — Dorset — Harwich — Wal- lingford — Clarendon, .... . 401 LETTER V. Rutland — Judge Williams — Pittsford — Brandon — Leicester — Salisbury — Mid- dlebury — Marble quarry — Middlebury College — Woodstock — Barnard — Stockbridge — Rochester — Hancock — Ripton, ----- 412 LETTER VI. Weybridge — New-Haven — Vergennes — Settled by Colonel Allen — Prospect from the State-House, - - 421 LETTER VII. Ferrisburgh — Charlotte — Shelburn — Burlington — College — Prospect from Burlington— Colchester— Milton— Georgia — St. Albans— Swanton— High- gate, .... .... 423 LETTER. VIII. Essex — Jericho— Bolton— Waterbury — Observations on the attempts of modern "Philosophers to disprove the Mosaic era of the Creation— Onion river, 429 LETTER IX. Montpelier— Fixed upon as the seat of Government— Berlin— Williamstown— Brookiield— Randolph— Royalton— Sharon— Hartford, - 434 8 CONTENTS. Page. LETTER X. New-Haven Falls — Panton— Addison— Forests— Hickory — Equivocal gene ration of Plants— Major-General Strong— Rev. Dr. Swift, - - - 439 LETTER XI. Crown-Point Fortress— Conduct of the French Government towards the Colo nists of the United States, and reflections on its character, 444 LETTER XII. Lake Champlain— Healthfulness of its borders-Trade-Bridport— Shoreham— Cornwall— Orwell— Benson— West-Haven— Fair-Haven, - - - 450 LETTER XIII. Account of the State of Vermont— Mode of forming new settlements— Charac ter of the settlers, -- - ---456 LETTER XIV. Manner of forming new settlements, and character of new settlers continued, 464 LETTER XV. State of Vermont — Its settlement — Account of its Government, - 470 LETTER XVI. Hampton — Pultney — Granville — Westfield — Kingsbury — Sandy-HiU — Glen's Falls— Queensbury — Schenectady — Union College — Attack of the French and Indians on Schenectady in 1690 — Rev. Dr. Romeyn — Rev. Dr. John B. Smith— Rev. Robert Smith, 476 LETTER XVII. Albany — Settled by the Dutch — Observations on publick taste — Trade of Alba ny — Major-General Schuyler— Greenbush — Schodac — Stephentown — New- Lebanon, .... . . . 491 LETTER XVIII. Richmond — West-Stockbridge — Salisbury — Cataract at that place — Sharon — Amenia — Washington, ... . 501 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. LETTER I. East-Haven — Branford — Guilford — Its burying-ground — White fish used as a manure — Killingworth — Saybrook — Its settlement and fortress — Lady Fen- wick's monument, ------... jqq LETTER II. Lyme— New-London— Invasion and Burning of New-London and Groton by Arnold and Eyre — Murder of Colonel Ledyard, - 52j JOURNEY TO BERWICK. LETTER L. Carver — Middleborough — Taunton, its manufactures — Halifax — Bridgewater — Honourable Hugh Orr — Raynham — Longevity of the Leonard family — Philip, King of the Wampanoags — Attleborough — Rev. Habijah Weld — Rehoboth — In dian depredations — North Providence. Dear Sir, ON Wednesday, October 15th, we took leave of our frienda at Charlestown, and rode through Boston, Roxbury, Milton, Quin- cey, Braintree, Weymouth, and a skirt of Hingham, to an inn, In the Western part of Scituate : thirty miles. The next day we reached Plymouth, seventeen miles, at noon ; where we lodged in the hospitable house of Mr. H. a respectable merchant, and my particular friend. As I shall have occasion to mention this tract hereafter ; I shall omit a description of it for the present. The next morning we pursued our journey through Carver, eight miles, and Middleborough, thirteen, to Taunton, twenty-six. Immediately after we left Plymouth we ascended the brow of a vast, yellow-pine plain, spreading over a great part of the Coun ty of Plymouth, a part of the County of Bristol, and a part of the State of Rhode-Island. This is the largest tract of lean land in Massachusetts ; and the least productive. The road is generally a heavy sand, over which our horses made their way with diffi culty. An entire sameness of prospect every where wearied the eye ; and approached in many places, towards absolute desola tion. It was, however, not unfrequently varied by a succession of small lakes, spread, at moderate distances, throughout the whole tract; clear, beautiful and salubrious. Around most of them were settled a few planters, on a tolerably good soil, furnished of Vol. II. 2 10 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. the surrounding declivity. Several of them, also, yield consider able quantities of iron ore ; which is raked from their beds, and serves well for castings, and sometimes is wrought by the ham mer. The Eastern parts of this tract are inferiour to the West ern ; but even these yield small crops of rye and maize. Carver the first township, which presented itself to us after we left Plymouth, is a lean>looking collection of thinly scattered plantations. The houses are old, and ordinary : and the whole aspect of the country is discouraging. Every thing appears as if it had been long at a stand ; and as if it could scarcely again be come progressive. There is an iron furnace in this town, supplied by one of the lakes, to which I have referred. It is said to have yielded 500 tons of iron ore in a year ; and sends out the stream, upon which the furnace is built. Carver was incorporated in 1 790, and contained, then, 847 in habitants ; in 1800, 124 dwelling houses, and 863 inhabitants; and in 1810,858. , Middleborough, the next township Westward, lies on the same plain ; varied, however, with a few rising grounds ; low, sloping gradually, but destitute of beauty. The soil is somewhat harder3 and more productive, than in Carver ; the forests are interspers ed with oak and hickory ; the houses wear a better appearance ; and the inhabitants are obviously in more thrifty circumstances. But the same general uniformity of surface, the sterility of the soil, the unthriftiness of the forests, the want of that verdure, so generally spread over New-England, and the stillness of the whole region, make the passage through this township monotonous, and dull, to a traveller. The church is a decent building : and in its neighbourhood there are three or four dwelling houses, of a simi lar appearance. The agriculture of Middleborough is devoted almost wholly to the production of maize, and rye : both of which grow in consid erable quantities. Wheat was formerly cultivated here with success by the Hon. Peter Oliver ; at that time one of the Judges of the Superiour LETTER L. \\ Court in the Province of Massachusetts-Bay. This very respect able man was distinguished for his knowledge, and love of agri culture, as well as for his good sense integrity and candour. In the winter season, the inhabitants of Middleborough are prin cipally employed in making nails ; of which they send large quantities to market. This business is a profitable addition to their husbandry ; and fills up a part of the year, in which, other wise, many of them would find little employment. Several small lakes, particularly one called Assawampsit, furnish, and have long furnished, large quantities of iron ore ; and are well stored with fish. One of the first rolling and slitting mills in New- England was erected here, about the middle of the eighteenth century. Middleborough contains one parish, and a part of two others. Within the limits of the three, there are six congregations : three Presbyterian, and three Baptist. In 1776, there was 4,479 inhab itants in this township ; in 1790, 4,526 ; in 1800, 4,458, and 709 dwelling houses ; and, in 1810, 4,400. Its Indian name was Natyasket.* * The first precinct or parish of Middleborough contains between thirteen and fourteen hundred people. The following bill of mortality, contains an account of the number of persons who died here between 1801 and 1813, and their ages. 1811 is not given. - fears. Above 90, 80, 70, 50, 20. Under 20. Total. 1802 1 3 2 2 3 8 19 1803 1 4 2 4 4 16 31 1804 4 1 7 2 6 20 1805 6 3 14 6 29 1806 1 3 1 7 12 1807 5 2 5 a 4 22 1808 2 10 7 4 8 31 1809 2 4 7 4 12 29 1810 2 3 4 5 6 20 1812 4 2 4 5 7 22 Total, 7 24 37 39 48 80 235 From this table it appears that the_ average number of deaths in this precinct, was 23.5. Of the whole number 235, seven, one thirty-third part, lived to be above 90 ; and twenty-four, a tenth part, above 80 ; thirty-seven, nearly a sixth part, above 70 ; and sixty-eight, the whole number that died above 70, was a little less 12 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. Taunton lies immediately West of Middleborough, and on both sides of Taunton river. The surface is more varied than that of Middleborough ; the soil materially better ; the fields more ver dant ; the forests, which are principally oak, hickory, &c. more thrifty ; and the whole aspect of the country, especially near the river and its tributary streams, much more sprightly and agreea ble. The town is built on the Western side of the river, upon the borders of a pretty mill stream. Its situation is naturally pleasant. The houses, amounting to fifty or sixty, are generally- decent ; but are too much crowded together. The rest of the town is formed into plantations, except a village at the landing, about a mile and a half further down the river. To this place ascend the coasting vessels, which carry on the trade of Taunton. Taunton is the shire town of the County of Bristol ; and con tains a Court-house and Gaol, an Academy and three churches. The Presbyterian church is prettily placed on a handsome green ; and the Court-house on another, less pleasant, about one hundred rods further down the river. None of these buildings are remark able for their beauty. Great quantities of iron are manufactured here ; not less, it is supposed, than 800 tons annually. Of this, one half is converted into nails ; and the rest into shovels, castings^&c. The first iron shovels, manufactured in the British Colonies, were made by Mr. Samuel Leonard. Were I to judge from what I saw, and heard, I should conclude, that the inhabitants have suffered in their morals, from the ses sions of courts, and the influence of furnaces and forges. Taunton was incorporated in 1639. It seems to have suffered less from the savages, than most other places in the same unpro tected situation. It is said, that Philip regarded the people of Taunton, (then including Raynham,) and Bridgewater, with so much good will, as to declare, that they should be the last victims of his revenge. than one third of the whole total. One hundred and eight died above 50, not far from one half; while those who died under 20 were eighty a little more than one- fourth of the whole. LETTER L. J 3 In the year 1790, Taunton contained 538 houses, and 3,804 in habitants, in 1800, 560 houses, and 3,860 inhabitants, and in 1 810, 3,907. It includes also four congregations ; two Presbyterian, one Episcopal, and one Baptist. In a journey which I took to Hallowell in the year 1 807 ; a jour ney which I shall have frequent occasion to mention hereafter ; we proceeded, on our return, from Boston to Hingham on Mon day, the 1 2th of October. The next day we rode to Plymouth before dinner. Here we had the satisfaction of being present while a luminous and impressive charge was delivered to the Grand Jury of the County by the Hon. Theophilus Parsons, Chief Justice of Massa chusetts. I know not, that I have ever heard a moral discourse, which was conducted with more skill. The scheme of thought was in the highest degree clear, and correct ; and the style emi nently distinguished for its perspicuity, precision, and strength, The definitions were obvious, and complete ; the arguments con clusive, and the discussions introduced exactly where they were necessary, and were extended no farther than they were ne cessary. The whole was so concise, that from almost any wri ter it would have been obscure ; yet was so managed as to be come more intelligible from its succinctness. It was received by a numerous audience with a solemn, profound, and eager atten tion. After the charge was ended, we dined with tlie Court ; and were not a little gratified with the conversation at the table. The remainder of the day we spent with our Plymouth friends, in examining the antiquities of this place, so interesting to every genuine New-Englander. We found Plymouth considerably improved. Wednesday October 13th, we left Plymouth in the morning, and rode to Taunton, through Kingston, Halifax, Bridgewater, and Raynham: thirty miles. We took this road in preference to the direct course through Middleborough, although it is four miles further, on account of the sand, with which that was en- Vol. II. 3 1 4 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. cumbered ; and found the route more expeditious, as well as more pleasant. Halifax is a collection of scattered plantations on a soil, partly sand and partly loam. The Eastern division of this township is pine plain. The Western is composed of easy gradual swells, and open vallies ; both covered with loam, and moderately fertile. The hills are stony. This township has the aspect of having been long settled, and appears to have arrived at the ne plus of its present system of cultivation. On the houses, generally approximating to the age of a century, at least to the eye, there are scarcely any marks of recency or repair. The inhabitants, also, appear to be fixed in their moderate, comfortable circumstances ; and to have arrived at a termination in the progress of improvement, in their ambi tion, and in their hopes. Unless something entirely new should start up, to communicate to them a high excitement," this town ship will most probably wear the same face at the end of another century, which it wears now ; without any perceptible alteration in its buildings, agriculture, manners or character. Halifax was incorporated in 1 734 ; and in 1 790 contained 664 inhabitants, included in 124 families; in 1800, 642 inhabitants, and 95 dwelling-houses ; and in 1810, 703 inhabitants. The township of Bridgewater is an alternation of small plains, easy swells, and open vallies ; presenting a prospect which is rather agreeable. The soil, though not remarkably fertile, is better than that of Halifax. We passed two or three handsome lakes, lying, as we supposed, in this township ; the largest extending from two to three miles in length. Here, and in the neighbourhood, there are several marshy grounds, producing the swamp cedar, mention ed above, in such numbers, as to supply shingles in sufficient quantity for the sui rounding country. The houses in this township exhibit more appearances of thrift and prosperity, than those of Halifax. Generally, however the same stillness, the same aspect of antiquity, the same evidence of an arrival at a stand in the course of improvement are presented in LETTER L. 15 those parts of the township, through which our journey lay. Yet it is said to contain considerable manufactures of iron, for vajious purposes. It is crossed by one branch of Taunton river. Within the limits of Bridgewater commences that vast field of sand, whieh, running Southward, abuts upon the Sound at Roches ter, and running Eastward, upon the Massachusetts Bay, at Scit- uate. The late Hon. Hugh Orr, an inhabitant of Bridgewater, de serves to be mentioned here with particular respect, both on ac count of his personal character, and the skill, and enterprise with which he promoted various manufactures of iron in this country. Mr. Orr was born January 13th, 1717, at Lochwinioch, in the county of Renfrew in Scotland. He was educated a gunsmith, and house-lock filer ; and at the age of twenty came to America. One year he resided at Easton in this neighbourhood ; and the next removed to Bridgewater. Here he built a shop ; and set up the first trip-hammer in this part of the country. His first bu siness was the manufacturing of scythes ; thence he proceeded to that of axes ; and was for several years the only"maker, of edge- tools, of which he seems to have manufactured many sorts, in this part of the country. In the year 1 748 he made five hundred musquets, for the prov ince of Massachusetts Bay. During the Revolutionary War, Mr. Orr commenced anew the manufacturing of arms ; and set up in concert with a French Gen tleman, a foundery for the casting of cannon. These were cast solid, and bored ; most of them were iron ; a few were brass. A great quantity of cannon shot was also cast at the same furnace, and together with the cannon formed a very interesting acquisi tion to the country at that period. Beside spreading the manufacture of edge tools through various parts of Massachusetts Bay, Rhode-Island, and Connecticut, Mr. Orr originated the business of exporting flaxseed from this part of the country ; and probably gave the first spring to the manufactur ing of cotton. 16 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. In social life he is represented as amiable, and irreproachable. As a friend to this country, though not born in it, he was distin guished. For several years he was elected a Senator for the County of Plymouth ; and, what may stand in the place of a vol ume of panegyric, he was a confidential friend of the late Govern- our Bowdoin. Mr. Orr died, December 1798, in the eighty-se cond year of his age.* An Academy was incorporated in this township, February 1799. It is under the superintendence of the Rev. Dr. Sanger ; and is said to be flourishing. Bridgewater contains five parishes. In 1790 the inhabitants amounted to 4,975, included in 830 families; in 1800, to 5,200, living in 740 houses ; and, in 1810, to 5,157. Raynham has the same kind of soil with that of Bridgewater. Along the road, however, the surface is more level, and more sandy. The inhabitants appear to be in pleasant circumstances ; and the houses are generally well-built. The people of Raynham, Bridgewater, Taunton, and some other townships in this vicinity, are extensively employed in the business of manufacturing iron. In the two counties of Plymouth, and Bristol, there are twenty furnaces, and as many forges ; a number of slitting and plating-mills ; and a great number of peo ple employed in the manufacture of nails, and other articles, of which iron is the material. The ore, of which a great part of this iron is made, is found in marshy grounds, where, if I may be allowed the term, it is continually growing. The proof of this fact is said to be complete : for, where it has been exhausted, it is found again in a few years, in considerable quantities. That, which has been very lately produced, is said, however, to be in an immature state, and unfit for casting. The first forge, erected in America was built in Raynham by James and Henry Leonard. The family, derived from James, have ever been extensively employed in manufacturing iron down to the present time ; and have been much distinguished for res pectability of character. Nor have they been less remarkable for longevity. * Hist. Coll. Vol. ix. LETTER L. 17 James Leonard, the progenitor of the family, had three broth ers. Including these, himself, and his descendants, amounting in all to forty-four males, the ages on this side of the family are as follows : — 4 aged, but age not certainly known, 3 almost 70, 9 above 70, 9 averaging 74, 3 near 80, 1 1 above 80, 5, age unknown. 44 Of his female descedants, amounting to twenty-five, 2 were aged, 5 were almost 70, 3 74, 4 above 75, 3 above 80, 1 above 90, 1 almost 100, 6 age unknown. 25 All these, except the progenitor, were his immediate descend ants in direct lines. Of the males all, except five, lived to be above sixty. All ex cept twelve, (or thirty-two out of forty-four,) lived to be above seventy; twenty-three above seventy-four; and eleven above eighty. Of the twenty -five females, all, except eight, lived to be near seventy ; probably all but six ; twelve lived to be seventy-four ; nine exceeded seventy-five : five were above eighty : one above ninety : and one almost an hundred. The Rev. Dr. Wales, late Professor of Theology in Yale Col lege, was a native of Raynham, and a descendant by the mother's side from the family of Leonard. This gentleman was greatly and deservedly respected as a scholar, and a divine ; and filled the offices of a parochial minister, and a Professor of Divinity in Yale College, with high reputation. Raynham was incorporated in the year 1731. The inhabitants have been distinguished for their love of good order, and their attachment to the government of the State. " Among their num ber," says the Rev. Dri Fobes, their late minister, " was never found a tory, a friend to paper money, or an insurgent." 18 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. In 1790, this township contained 164 houses, 197 families, and 1,094 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,181 inhabitants ; and in 1810, 1,154. Raynham was the summer residence of Metacom, or Philip, chief sachem of the Wampanoags, or Pokanokets, sometimes written Pawkunnawkuts.* During the winter he lived in Bristol, in the State of Rhode-Island. This prince made a greater figure in the history of New-England than any other man, among the numerous tribes of Mohekanneews. His father, as has been al ready observed, was the celebrated Massasoit, who welcomed the Plymouth Colonists to America, and was their faithful friend throughout his life. Massasoit was naturally frank, friendly, and honourable. No stain has been left upon his character by histo ry ; and there is reason to believe, that he died a Christian. Alexander, the eldest son of Massasoit, died a young man, and left the Sachemdom to Philip. The views, which Sassacus enter tained concerning the settlement of the English, and which he expressed so strongly to the Narrhagansetts, when he attempted to unite them with the Pequods in a war against the Colonists, Philip imbibed early; and never lost sight of them until his death. He was sagacious, also, beyond the ordinary reach of savage minds ; and possessed in a singular degree the skill, and address, in negociation, which alone can persuade men, mutually hostile in their feelings and interests, to unite heartily in a com mon cause. The Indians of New-England had never known any interests, but such as were merely local. Himself, his family, and his tribe, include every thing, which is valuable in the eyes of a savage. These are his world ; and whatever does not in trude upon their welfare is to him nothing. By present objects, and their immediate consequences, he is roused to attention, and as the case may be, to action ; but those, which are remote lie beyond the limits of his horizon. Philip, however, passed these limits. He saw the Colonists increasing daily in numbers and in power ; and seems clearly to have discerned, that at no distant period their establishment on these shores would become fatal to the independence, and safety, of his countrymen. *This is the spelling of Major-General Gookin. LETTER L. 19 Engrossed by these views, he began early to adopt such meas ures, as might most effectually prevent the evils, which he dread ed. The field, in which he was to act, was unpromising. Every Indian tribe is of course hostile to every other. The larger are insolent ; the smaller, impatient to revenge their wrongs ; and all, mutually and intensely jealous. To fight with each other, and to subdue or be subdued, constitute their only employment, and their only lot. Those, who were near the English, might easily be persuaded to direct, and would indeed of course direct, their jealousy against them, unless when at war with their own country men. But those, who were at a distance, were too much occupi ed in their own concerns, and too apprehensive of danger from their neighbours, to permit the indulgence of any serious hope of success in attempts to excite their jealousy against the English. Philip, however, was not discouraged. With the peculiar secre cy, which characterizes this people, and which no nation, beside the French, has managed with equal suceess, he dispatched his run ners first to the neighbouring tribes, and then to those which were more distant. To all he represented in strong terms the num bers, the power, the increase, and the unfriendly designs, of the Colonists, and the danger, with which they threatened all the original inhabitants. In various instances he pleaded the cause in person ; and by himself, and his emissaries, made a deeper and more general impression than could easily have been believ ed, or than some discreet inhabitants in this country can even now be persuaded to admit. These measures Philip laboured to conceal as much as possible from the English. He was probably employed in this business in 1671. Through the succeeding four years he was at times, and during the two last of them very generally, and strongly, suspect ed. To the accusations brought against him he replied with so much address, and in his behaviour was so adroit, as in a great measure to remove the suspicion, and preserve the good opinion of many, at least, among the Colonists. While his affairs were in this situation, John Sausaman, an In dian, who was a disciple of Mr. Elliot, having been guilty of some 20 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. transgression against the laws of Christianity, fled to Philip, and became his confidential counsellor. Mr. Elliot, however per suaded him to return, after some time, to his praying brethren at Natick, and atone for his fault in the Christian manner. Sausa- man, whose penitence was sincere, having afterwards met with Philip, and several of his chieftains at Middleborough, discovered his designs against the English, and felt himself obliged to dis close them to the Governour of Plymouth. The communication was made under the seal of absolute secrecy. Yet Philip, who strongly suspected Sausaman, partly from the jealousy, which is characteristical of Indians, and partly from knowing his disposi tion, ordered him to be dispatched. Accordingly, he was killed by three of Philip's Indians, as he was crossing a frozen pond. His body was put under the ice, as if he had accidentally fallen through, and been drowned. His hat and gun were, however, left upon the ice ; and these led to the discovery of his body. One of his friends, who took him up, observed several bruises up on his head ; and concluded, that violence had been done to him. This man, whose name was David, told the English at Taunton what he had seen, and what were his suspicions. The Governour of Plymouth ordered Sausaman's body to be taken out of the grave, and examined ; when it was discovered, beyond a doubt, that he had been murdered. The murderers were apprehended;: and were convicted by the testimony of an Indian, who providen tially was on a hill near to the pond at the time, and had seen the murder committed. One of the three Indians also confessed that his father, a confidential friend to Philip, and the other Indian, who had been under trial, had killed Sausaman, while he looked on. The murderers were executed at Plymouth in June 1675. From this time Philip attempted to conceal his designs no longer, and began immediately a vigourous succession of hostilities. The progress of the war, far the most distressing, which was ever experienced by the inhabitants of this country ; its issue in the death of Philip ; and the final ruin of Indian power in New England ; will hereafter be sufficiently detailed in the course of these letters. Whatever opinion we may form of this Chief, we. LETTER L. 21 cannot deny, that he was a sagacious, brave, high-spirited man. His faults must in no small degree be ascribed by candour to the state of society, in which he was educated. The Colonists he considered, and justly, as dangerous intruders, whose views, and interests, were hostile to those of his countrymen. Their pow er, already formidable, he saw every day becoming more so ; and their numbers continually increasing. The design, which he formed of delivering his country from this band of strangers, was exactly of the same nature with those, which mankind have generally pronounced patriotic, and glorious. Had he succeed ed ; (and there was a period, when his success was at least doubt ful;) the tribes of this country would in their future songs have celebrated his name with the same enthusiasm, and in their tra ditions have twined round his temples the same laurels, which in Sweden have been devoted to Gustavus Vasa, and in England to Alfred ; with which the Romans adorned the najnes of Camil- lus, and Scipio Africanus, and the Greeks commemorated those of Miltiades, Leonidas, and Cymon. The house of Philip stood on the North side of a pond, called the Fowling-pond. It was called his hunting-house, because he spent the summer here in hunting. This Chief was peculiarly attached to the Leonard family ; and gave strict orders to all his men, when the war commenced in 1675, to do them no injury. In this journey I found Taunton somewhat improved. The completion of the bridge from Rhode-Island to Tiverton at How- land's ferry is believed here to be an object of considerable im portance to all this part of the country. The road from Newport to Boston passes through Taunton ; furnishes the inhabitants along the Eastern shore of New-England with the shortest and easiest road to New-York ; and will undoubtedly command a considera ble part of their intercourse with the country South of Connecti cut. Saturday October 18, 1796, we rode from Taunton to Provi dence through the skirts of Rehoboth, and Attleborough, and through North-Providence, twenty miles. The road is tolerably good to Pautucket river; and thence to Providence, four miles, Vol. II. 4 22 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. is intolerably bad ; being a deep sand, very heavy, and most un comfortably set with stones of a considerable size. Attleborough is a township, distributed almost wholly into plan tations, with only a small village around the first church. It in cludes two parishes ; and two Presbyterian, and two Baptist con gregations. The surface is moderately undulating, and the soil tolerably good. Providence furnishes it with a market for every thing, which the inhabitants have for sale. In 1790, the number of dwelling-houses was 314, and of inhabitants, 2,166. In 1800, they amounted to 2,480 ; and, in 1810, to 2,716. The Rev. Habijah Weld was born at Dunstable, (Massachu setts) September 2, 1702 ; received the degree of A. B. in Har vard College, in 1 723 ; and was ordained pastor of the first church and congregation in Attleborough, October 1st, 1727. He died, May Uth, 1782, in the 80th year of his age, and the 55th of his Ministry. The following account of this gentleman I received from the Hon. Mr. D. a Senator of the United States ; who wai born, and during the period of childhood educated, in his near neighbourhood. Mr. Weld was below the middle stature ; and in the lat ter part of his life, corpulent. His constitution was vigorous ; and his mind, almost singularly energetic. The stipend, which he received from his parishioners consisted of an annual sal ary of two hundred and twenty dollars ; and the use of a par sonage lot, which furnished him with wood, and a little pas ture. With his patrimony he purchased a farm of about sev enty acres, of moderately good land, and a decent house. He had fifteen children ; ten of whom were married during his life, and one after his death. The remaining four died while young. This numerous family he educated with the means, which have been mentioned, in a manner, superiour to what is usually found in similar circumstances ; entertained much com pany in a style of genuine hospitality ; and was always prepared to contribute to the necessities of others. For the regulation of his domestic concerns, Mr. Weld pre scribed to himself and his family, a fixed system of rules ; which were invariably observed, and contributed not a little to the LETTER L. 23 pleasantness and prosperity of bis life. His children, labourers, and servants, submitted to them with cheerfulness ; and his house became the seat of absolute industry, peace, and good order. Breakfast was on the table precisely at six o'clock ; dinner, at twelve ; and supper, at six in the evening. After supper he nei ther made visits himself, nor permitted any of his family to make them. His observation of the Sabbath was probably unexampled. When hired labourers were at work for him, however busy the season, even when his crops were exposed to destruction by rain, be dismissed them all so early on Saturday afternoon, as to ena ble them to reach their own homes before sunset : the time, when he began the Sabbath. His cattle were all fed ; his cows milked ; the vegetables for the ensuing day prepared ; and his family summoned together; previously to this sacred period. Until nine o'clock he spent the evening with his household in reading, and prayer ; and at this moment they uniformly retired to their beds. No room in his house was swept ; no bed was made ; nor was any act, except such as were acts of necessity and mercy in the strict sense, done ; until sunset on the succeeding day ; when in bis opinion the Sabbath terminated. Mr. Weld was naturally of a very ardent disposition. Yet so entirely had he acquired an ascendancy over his temper, that a censurable, or imprudent, act, is not known to have been -done by him, nor an improper word uttered. To vice and licentiousness, in every form, he gave no indulgence, either in his conversation, or his public instructions. On the contrary, idleness, intemper ance, profaneness, and all kinds of immoral conduct, were repro ved by him with undeviating severity. His example in the prac tice of every virtue was such, as to create in all classes of men entire veneration for his character. It is doubted whether any person ever uttered a reproach against Mr. Weld. Nor was his piety less remarkable. Since the days of the Apos tles, it is questioned whether his zeal, fidelity, and intrepidity, in the cause of his divine Master have been excelled. During the long period 0»f fifty-five years, he was never once detained from 24 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. the pulpit by disease, nor from any other of his pastoral duties. His prayers were wholly formed by himself; and adapted with strict propriety to the various Occasions, on which they were made. They were pertinent, solemn, and impressive. His sermons were written, and were usually delivered without variation from his notes. Yet at times he addressed his congregation extemporane ously in a manner eminently forcible and affecting. The doc trines, which he received, were those of the Reformation ; those of the ancestors of New-England, which you will find recited in a subsequent part of these letters ; and in communicating them he made no compromise with what he esteemed error. As he regarded the Scriptures with profound reverence, so he taught the truths, which he believed them to contain, in a manner un daunted, and unwarping. With the same spirit he reproved vice of every kind. Not a riot, not a serious violation of order, not a scene of dissipation, whenever any thing of this nature existed among his parishioners, escaped his rebukes from the desk. In decency in ^the house of God was never tolerated by him for a moment. If any member of his congregation slept during di vine service, he was sure to be roused by a pungent reproof. In his parochial visits he was accustomed to address the truths, and duties, of the Gospel to the hearts, and consciences, of the family ; and never lost sight of the eternal interests of his congre gation. And, while he administered the balm of life to the wound ed spirit, he addressed the most solemn alarms, as well as the most pungent reproofs, to stubbornness, and impiety. Mr. Weld continued his labours to the Sabbath, before his death, without any visible decline in his powers, either of body or mind. On that Sabbath he preached two sermons from these words : "He that believeth, and is baptised, shall be saved; and he that believeth not shall be damned." On the Tuesday follow ing he rode in his chaise to Providence ; ten miles ; returned about four o'clock in the afternoon ; walked into the house ; told his wife, that he was unwell ; requested her to open a window, as he found a difficulty in breathing ; sat down ; and instantly expi red, of ari Apoplexy. So well were his secular concerns arran- LETTER L. 25 ged for his departure, that the settlement of his estate cost less than five dollars. His excellent wife survived him many years ; and died after she had passed the age of ninety, universally la mented. At the death of Mr. Weld, only one of his congregation was living, of those who assisted in his settlement. His parishioners shewed their sense of the loss, which they sustained in his death, by an universal mourning. The house of this gentleman was the resort of many distin guished persons, from Boston, Providence, and various other parts of New-England; and in no house were they received, and treated, with more hospitality. His manners were at once digni fied, and polite ; and every member of his family was courteous and well bred. Nothing was seen among them but harmony and good will. That with such an income Mr. Weld could support so large a family, and live in so hospitable a manner, will certainly excite not a little wonder. The explanation is found in his industry, regularity, and exactness, in all his concerns. Every thing was managed in such a manner, that almost in the literal sense nothing was lost. " In my opinion," adds Mr. D. " Mr. Weld was a more strict observer of the divine law, and more eminently holy, than any man, whom I ever knew." Permit me to subjoin, that if all Clergymen sustained the same character, and lived in the same manner, the world would speed ily assume a new aspect, and its inhabitants, a new character. Before we reached Providence, we crossed Seekonk plain : an absolute level, about five miles in length, and three and a half in breadth. This spot has for a long time been a favourite scene of the Rhode-Island horse races ; and more than any other ground within my knowledge resembles Hempstead plain on Long-Is land ; devoted from an early period to the same miserable em ployment. Rehoboth is a large farming town, bounded on the So>ith by the State of Rhode-Island, and on the North by Attleborough. Its 26 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. surface to a great extent is level, but interspersed with hills of a moderate elevation. Its soil is tolerably fertile. This township was settled in 1644 by a colony from Weymouth, under the conduct of the Rev. Samuel Newman. It was incor porated in 1645. The country from Bridgewater to Providence, perhaps thirty miles in breadth, was to a great extent the seat of Philip's imme diate hostilities. In Rehoboth the Indians burnt on the 28th of March, 1676, about forty houses, and thirty barns ; and in Provi dence, soon after, about thirty houses. On the 8th of the follow ing May they burnt about seventeen houses and barns in Bridge- water. Not long after they killed four of the inhabitants of Taun ton. The preceding year, also, many outrages were committed both upon Taunton, and Bridgewater; and in the months of April and May, there were burnt in Bridgewater thirteen houses, and several barns. Philip had declared, that the people of Taunton, and Bridge- water, should be the last to be destroyed. On the 1 1 th of July, 1676, he assembled all the warriours, whom he was able to col lect, and marched to Taunton, with a design to accomplish its destruction. Raynham was at this time, and for many years after, a parish of Taunton ; and was undoubtedly to be included in the common ruin. A black man, who understood the language of the savages, and had been taken prisoner by Philip's people, discovering his intention against the inhabitants of Taunton, made his escape, and acquainted them with their danger. They ac cordingly prepared themselves to give him a warm reception ; and, with the aid of some soldiers in their neighbourhood, saluted him with such spirit, that, after having set two houses on fire, he re treated. Captain Church, afterwards Colonel Church, the com mander of the Plymouth forces, and one of the most celebrated partisans in the New-England history, attacked him speedily af ter ; defeated him in several successive engagements ; and killed, and took, a considerable part of his men. At length he fled to a swamp in the neighbourhood of Mount Hope, in Bristol, (R. I.) Captain Church, being informed of this fact, pursued him ; but LETTER L. 27 scarcely had he reached the ground, when Philip was shot by one of his own countrymen. In 1790, Rehoboth contained 688 houses, and 4,710 inhabit ants: in 1800, the number of inhabitants was 4,743, and in 1810, 4,866. The Indian name of Rehoboth was Seconnet. It includes one Presbyterian, and five Baptist Congregations. The two last-mentioned townships are improving. The near neighbourhood of Providence furnishes the inhabitants with a ready market for all their produce ; and stimulates them to indus trious exertion. In the North- Western corner of Rehoboth there is a com pact, and neat, settlement on the Pawtucket, or Providence river. This, with another on the Western bank, form what is called North Providence : although this name in strict propriety be longs only to the latter. This village is well-built; and wears a flourishing aspect. The river is a large mill-stream; and just be low the village becomes navigable for boats. Directly under the bridge commences a romantic fall, which, extending obliquely down the river, furnishes a number of excellent mill-seats. Of this advantage the inhabitants have availed themselves. There is probably no spot in New-England, of the same extent, in which the same quantity, or variety, of manufacturing business is carri ed on.* In the year 1796, there were here 3 Anchor-forges, 1 Fanning Mill, 1 Flouring Mill, 1 Slitting Mill, 3 Snuff Mills, 1 Oil Mill, 3 Fulling Mills, 1 Clothier's Works, 1 Cotton Manufactory, 2 Machines for cutting nails, 1 Furnace for casting hollow ware ; all moved by water, 1 Machine for cutting screws, moved by a horse, And several forges for smiths' work. The whole descent of the river is said to be fifty feet. The principal fall is about thirty. The mass of rocks, by which it is produced, is thrown together in the wildest Gonfusion. When we passed this place, the river was low. In 1807, while crossing * 1810, 28 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. the ferry, just below, in an oblique direction near a mile in extent, during almost the whole of which it was visible, I had a remark ably fine view of this cataract. The river was full ; and fell in a circuitous extent of little less than two hundred feet, and in a great variety of forms of wildness and grandeur. Most of the manufactures at this place have been carried on successfully. The number of workmen employed, the number of buildings, and the mass of capital, have therefore continually increased. But in the year 1806, the deluge of rain which fell in the beginning of February, raised the river to an unprecedent ed height; and swept away in a moment the laborious efforts of many years. North- Providence was formerly a part of Providence. In 1 790 it contained 1,071 inhabitants. In 1800, 1,067, And in 1810, 1,758. I am, Sir, yours, &c LETTER LI. Providence — College-"-Publ'ic Buildings — Major General Greene — Commerce of Providence. Dear Sir, The settlement of Providence, the largest town in the state of Rhode-Island, was begun by Roger Williams, heretofore mention ed, in 1636. Soon after, it became the general resort of such adventurers, as were disaffected with the Massachusetts govern ment ; and in a short time, the plantation, as it was called, be came considerable. Mr. Williams was held in high veneration by all the inhabitants, and regarded as their common father. Providence is built on the Western side of Pawtucket river, in two divisions; one on the Eastern, and the other on the Western side of a cove, which is an arm of that river. The site of the Western division is a slope, gradually rising from the cove; that of the Eastern is the narrow base, and the side, of a lofty hill, which runs between the cove and the river to the point of their junction. The two principal streets on the Eastern side, pass, one at the bottom, and the other at a little distance along the side, of this hill, until they terminate at the river. The principal street on the Western side is a part of the great road towards New-Lon don and Hartford. Those, on the East, are crossed by several others nearly at right angles. Many of the houses in this town are ancient, and ordinary ; ma ny more are modern buildings, and would be called good houses in a New-England village ; although inferiour to a multitude of houses in such villages. A small number are of a character su- periour to this : and three or four are splendid,* *Since this was written, a great number of good houses have been built in Provi dence, of which a considerable proportion may be justly styled elegant. Two new churches, an Episcopal, and a Presbyterian, both honourable to the inhabitants, have been lately erected. Few towns in New-England have been more improved in their appearance. Vol. II. 5 30 JOURNEY TO .BERWICK. The public buildings in Providence, are a College; three Pres byterian, one Episcopal, and two Baptist Churches : a Friends' meeting-house ; a court-house ; a gaol ; a work-house ; and a market. The College stands on the summit of the hill : and is a brick building of four stories, one hundred and fifty feet in length, and forty-six in breadth. A projection in the centre, of twenty feet on each side, enlarges the breadth here to eighty-six feet ; and contains the public rooms. The rest of the building consists of rooms, and studies designed for the students. It overlooks every part of the town ; the cove, and the country beyond it ; the river with the regions on both sides ; together with extensive- tracts to the North, and East. The prospect is noble ;. but is sensibly im paired by the sterility of the soil in the Western quarter; and is not a little deficient in fine varieties of surface. The Faculty of this College is composed of a President, Pro fessors of Natural Philosophy, of Mathematics and Astronomy, of Theology, of Moral Philosophy and Metaphysics, of Oratory and Belles Lettres, of Law and of Chemistry, and three Tutors. The Corporation is composed of two boards : one of Fellows ; the other of Trustees. The former consists of twelve, including the president : of whom eight are required by the charter to be Baptists. The latter consists of thirty-six : of whom twenty-two must be Baptists; five Quakers, five Episcopalians, and four Con- gregationalists. This Institution was established in 1 764 ; and was originally stationed at Warren ; where the first commence ment was held in 1769. The next year it was removed to Prov idence. Its legal name is now Brown University : given it in hon our of Nicholas Bfown, Esq. who has been its most liberal bene-. factor. This Seminary possesses a library of about three thou sand volumes ; a philosophical apparatus ; and a museum, con taining a number of natural and artificial curiosities. Both its in ternal and external concerns are considered as prosperous. The whole number of students graduated to the year 1817 was eight hundred and twenty-nine, of whom seven hundred and fifteen were then living. The whole number of ministers among the LETTER LI. 31 alumni was one hundred and forty-nine, of whom one hundred and thirty were then living. The number of students is from one hundred and twenty to one hundred and thirty. The Baptist church is a very good building, with an uncom monly handsome steeple : too high, however, for the body Of the Church. Its situation is disadvantageous : the hill, before men tioned, rising suddenly behind it, and making it appear lower than it really is. The Presbyterian church on High-street is located with taste ; and, both within and without, is one of the handsomest churches in New-England. It is fronted with two towers ; each crowned with a well appearing cupola.* A short time before our arival at Providence, this building fur nished a remarkable instance of the efficacy of sound. While it was unfinished, a bird flew into it; and in endeavouring to escape directed his course to a sky-light in the dome, over the centre of the house. As he was fluttering around the sky-light, one of the workmen on the floor struck with his hammer a smart blow upon a work-bench. The bird instantly dropped ; and was taken up dead. Whether he was killed by the sound, or by the fall, can not, perhaps, be determined. ., The Court-House is a decent building. The morals of Providence are probably superiour to those of any other town in this State. The usual order of things, with re spect to morality, seems here to be inverted. In most other States the country is more virtuous than the city. Here, a gene ral, and honourable, regard to morality, and a general perform ance of its duties, such as is found in other respectable towns of this country, appears to prevail. Many years have not elapsed since the market, the street, and the wharves, were little less fre quented on the Sabbath, than on other days. You will remem ber, that the Sabbath in this slate is neither regarded by the laws, nor sanctioned by any general religious observance. We saw a few carts entering the town ; but were informed, that the num. * In the year 1814, this church was consumed by fire. 32 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. ber had yearly decreased for a considerable time, and that the inhabitants were strongly, as well as generally opposed to this in decent intrusion. Of Providence the Hon. Nathaniel Greene, a Major-General in the army of the United' States, and during the latter part of the revolutionary war Commander in Chief of the army in the South ern States, was a citizen. This gentleman was born at Warwick in the year 1740. His parents were of the sect of Friends. In early life he was fond of study, and reflection ; and particularly attached to the history of military transactions. In Providence he established himself as a merchant ; and acquired a distinguish ed character in the estimation of his fellow-citizens. After the battle of Lexington, he went as a Brigadier-General, at the head of three regiments, to Cambridge ; and was of course discarded by the Friends. In August 1776, he was raised to the rank of Major-General ; and very honourably distinguished himself in the following December, and January, by his gallant behaviour in the battles of Trenton, and Princeton : as he did the succeeding year at the battle of Germantown. In March 1778, he accepted the place of Quarter-Master-General, on the condition of retaining his rank, and his command during the periods of action. ThiB year he signalized himself, June 28th, at the battle of Monmouth, and in the action on Rhode-Island the following August. After the defeat of General Gates at Camden, August 16th, 1780, he was appointed to the chief command of the military force in the Southern States. Upon this command he entered in circumstances, which would have discouraged almost any other man. After the miserable defeat above mentioned, that part of the country was, in a sense, overrun by the British. Multitudes of the inhabitants had already joined the enemy. Multitudes more were on the point of following their example. The rest, though sufficiently firm and resolute, were continually wounded by the defection of their neighbours, and perpetually in fear of the rav ages of invasion. Colonel Williams had, indeed, with the aid of his generous companions, Tracey, Banan, Campbell, Shelby, and Cleveland, checked the progress of the enemy by the gallant ac- LETTER LI. 33 tion at King's mountain : as had General Sumpter by two hon ourable efforts at Broad and Tiger rivers. But their force was too small to obstruct, in any serious degree, a well-appointed and victorious army, commanded by officers of distinguished talents. In these circumstances General Greene commenced the ardu ous business of recovering this country from the British. At his arrival, he found himself at the head of 3,000 men, including 1 ,200 militia. These he divided ; and sent one part under Brigadier- General Morgan into the district of Ninety-six : the other he himself led to Hicks's Creek, on the North side of the Pedee. Morgan was attacked by Lieutenant-Colonel Tarlton, a brave and skilful partisan, at the head of a superiour force. But he re pulsed the attack ; and gained a complete victory. Lord Corn- wallis, with the whole British army, pursued Morgan's detach ment ; at the head of which General Greene, after a rapid jour ney, placed himself, and conducted it with such felicity, and suc cess, as to reach the main body, in spite of one of the most vigor ous pursuits recorded in history. He was, however, still pursued with the same celerity, until he arrived in Virginia : but he com pletely eluded the vigilance of the enemy. The moment the pur suit ceased, having received a reinforcement, he marched after Lord Cornwallis ; and gave him battle at Guilford Court-House, now Martindale. Victory declared for the British ; but cost them so dear, as to produce all the consequences of a defeat. Lord Cornwallis retreated. Greene, immediately following him, and finding that he was directing his course to Virginia, returned to South-Carolina ; and marched at the head of about 1,100 men, within a mile of Camden, then defended by Lord Rawdon with 900 men. The British commander attacked him. He was again defeated ; but with so little advantage to the victors, that his lord ship found himself obliged to burn a considerable part of his bag gage, and to retire to the South side of the Santee. Greene, in the mean time, directed his several detachments with such skill ; and the highly meritorious officers, by whom they were led, employed them with such activity and gallantry ; that a great part of the Brit ish posts in Carolina, and Georgia, were rapidly retaken ; and a con- 34 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. siderable number of the troops, by which they were defended, made prisoners. He then made an unsuccessful attempt on the post at Ninety-Six ; and was obliged to raise the siege by the approach of Lord Rawdon. He next moved his force to the South side of theCongaree. The British, having collected theirs, passed that river also ; and took post at the Eutaw springs, on the South side of the Santee. Here Greene determined to attack them in their encampment ; and the consequence of his attack was a vic tory, which ended the war in this part of the Union. General Greene took the command of the Southern troops near the close of the year 1 780. The battle of the Cowpens was fought on January 17th ; and that of the Eutaw springs on the 6th of Sep tember following. The troops under his command were chiefly new-raised, half armed, half clothed, and often half fed. They were however brave, determined men ; and wanted nothing, but the usual advantages of war, to meet any soldiers in equal num bers, on fair ground. Within nine months, therefore, did this illustrious man, aided by a band of gallant officers, recover with these troops the three Southern States from a veteran army of su perior force, commanded by officers of great merit, and furnished with every accommodation. The country he found in a state of extreme suffering and despondency." His progress through it was a source of perpetual personal hardship, intense labour, and unre mitted anxiety. Seven months was he in the field, without taking off his clothes, even for a single night. At times he was obliged to ask bread of his own soldiers ; themselves miserably supplied with food. Yet he never desponded. " Nil desperandum" was the motto of his military life. The very letters, which conveyed to Congress, and to General Washington, accounts of the difficul ties with which he struggled, contain, also, proofs of his invincible fortitude, and resolution. When he was advised, after he had re treated from Ninety Six, to retire into Virginia ; he answered, " I will recover South-Carolina, or die." With this gentleman I was well acquainted. His person was above the middle stature, well formed, and invested with uncom mon dignity. His eye was singularly keen, and intelligent. His LETTER LI. 35 mind, possessed of vast resources, was bold in conceiving, instan taneous in discerning, comprehensive in its grasp, and decisive in its determinations. His disposition was frank, sincere,, amiable, and honourable : and his manners were easy, pleasant, affable, and dignified. Seldom has the world witnessed superiour re spectability. This great man died June 19th, 1786, at his own house in Georgia, when he had commenced his 47th year. Having walk ed for some time in an intensely hot day, he was smitten with what is called a stroke of the sun ; and lost his life, not improba bly by neglecting to carry an umbrella. He had removed to that country, to cultivate a plantation, presented to him by the Legis lature as a testimony of its gratitude for services, so honourable in themselves, and so important to its inhabitants. Providence was settled, as I have observed, in the year 1636. It was purchased by Roger Williams of Miantonimoh, and Canon- icus ; and by him and several of his friends, the plantation was begun. In 1640, they adopted a form of government. In 1645, or 1646, the number of men, able to bear arms, was about one hundred. They lived in peace with the Indians until the great war with the Narrhagansetts in. 1776; when these savages inva ded the town, and burnt about thirty dwelling houses. This seems to have been the only instance in which the inhabitants suffer ed, materially, from Indian incursions. Fifty-four years after wards, the white inhabitants of Providence, then including Prov idence, North Providence, Smithfield, Gloucester, and Scituate, amounted to 3,707. In the year 1790, there were on the same ground 16,962 per sons; and, in 1800, 18,333 ; and in 1810, 20,535. The present town of Providence contained in 1790, 6,380 in habitants ; in 1800, 7,614, and, in 1810, 10,071. Providence is the third town in New-England, in its population and commerce, and probably the first as to manufactures. The inhabitants, like those of Salem, have been obliged to combat many disadvantages, but in the end have surmounted them with a spirit of industry, enterprise, and perseverance, rarely displayed. 36 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. The country around them, particularly in their own State, is gen erally so lean, as scarcely to supply its inhabitants with food. But the merchants by their activity and prudence have engross ed, to a considerable extent, the custom, and produce, of the neighbouring regions of Massachusetts, and Connecticut. They have, also, engaged in several kinds of manufactures with a spirit, and success, unrivalled in this country. The following abstract of duties will exhibit a partial view of the imports of this town. Years. Duties. 1801 $289,233 1802 - - - - - 269,756 1803 - 367,939 1804 422,455 1805 - - .... 331,608 *' 1806 - - - - 375,610 . 1807 - 281,819 1808 .... . 173,637 1809 - 131,578 1810 338,173 I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER LI I. Rhode-Island Turnpikes — Johnstown — Scituate — Coventry — Sterling — Plainfield. Dear Sir, We left Providence, Monday October 20th, and crossing the state of Rhode-Island through the towns of Johnstown, Scituate, and Coventry, entered Connecticut at Sterling, and rode to Plain- field : thirty miles. The road after leaving Providence lay for two or three miles on a pine plain ; and was tolerably good. It then became stony, and ill, or rather not at all, repaired. Af ter dragging uneasily over several tedious miles, we came to a road, begun in the turnpike manner, and tolerably well made ; which lasted, though not without several interruptions, ten or twelve miles. The former disagreeableness of the road was here renewed ; and we proceeded with sufficient difficulty, till we came to Sterling ; where we were again relieved by a turnpike road. The country between Providence and Sterling is a suc cession of hills and vallies, running North and South. The hills are of considerable height, and incumbered, as the vallies are also, with a multitude of rocks and stones. The people of Providence expended upon this road, as we are informed, the whole sum permitted by the legislature. This was sufficient to make only those parts, which I have mentioned. The turnpike company then applied to the legislature for leave to expend such an additional sum, as would complete the work. The legislature refused. The principal reason for the refusal, as alleged by one of the members, it is said was the following : that turnpikes, and the establishment of religious worship, had their origin in Great Britain: the government of which was a mon archy, and the inhabitants slaves ; that the people of Massachu setts and Connecticut were obliged by law to support ministers, and pay the fare of turnpikes, and were therefore slaves also; that, if they chose to be slaves, they undoubtedly had a right to their choice ; but that free born Rhode-Islanders ought never to Vol. II. 6 58 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. submit to be priest-ridden, nor to pay for the privilege of travel ling on the highway. This demonstrative reasoning prevailed ; and the road continued in the state, which I have mentioned, un til the year 1805. It was then completed ; and free born Rhode- Islanders bowed their necks to the slavery of travelling on a good road. The soil of this tract is usually lean ; and the prospects are destitute of beauty. The townships are as thickly settled, probably, as they will ever be, unless by means of a new state of society, and a new mode of cultivation. The houses are almost all very poor, and ill repaired. Two or three small buildings, resembling miserable barns, were seen on the road, which we were informed were Baptist churches ; and not more than per haps half a dozen dwelling houses, between the environs of Prov idence and Sterling, of those which were visible to us, could be termed decent. The cultivation of this country, is of a piece with every thing else, which it presents to the eye ; and exhibits very few proofs either of skill or success. The whole tract is a collection of thinly scattered settlements, without a village, or even a hamlet. We found, however, a good inn in Scituate. Inhabitants. Inhabitants. Inhabitants. contained in 1790 in 1800 in 1810 . Johnston, 1,320 - - 1,364 - - 1,516 Scituate, 2,315 - - 2,523 - - 2,568 Coventry, 2,477 - - 2,423 - - 2,928 At Sterling, we were pleasantly advertised, that we had enter ed the State of Connecticut by the sight of a village, with a de cent church and school-house in its centre, and by the appear ance of comfortable dwellings, and better agriculture. The coun try was rough, here also ; but it wore the appearance of having been dressed. Every thing looked, as if the activity of man had been successfully, as well as diligently, employed to render life easy and desirable. From the hill, on which Sterling is built, we had, after we begun our descent, a very rich and extensive pros pect of the country along the Quinibaug ; one of the most fertile and beautiful tracts in New-England. Sterling was formerly a part of Voluntown. In 1 800 it contained 908 inhabitants ; in LETTER LH, 39 1810, 1,101. Voluntown contained, in 1756, 1,029 whites, and 29 blacks ; in 1800, both these towns contained 2,037 persons : and, in 1810, 2,117. Plainfield is a beautiful township lying along the Quinibaug. It is formed partly of a considerable plain, bordering that river, and partly of the Western declivity of those handsome hills, by which the valley of the Quinibaug is limited on the East. The soil is generally good ; and the surface, pleasant. The plain, indeed, has for some years been considered as in a great measure ex hausted. But the inhabitants are now beginning to cultivate it with gypsum, and with considerable success. The town of Plain- field is principally built on a long street, running North and South ; and, although the houses rise only to the style of decency, makes a pleasant appearance to the eye, In the autumn of 1 805, and in that of 1 807, I passed through this country. Providence itself had increased in the beauty of its appear ance. The tract between that town and Sterling had scarcely changed at all. Sterling had advanced in a moderate degree, and Plainfield was greatly improved. Many of the buildings were repaired, and beautified ; and several new ones added materially to its appearance. There is a respctable Academy in Plainfield, which has gener ally been under the superintendence of excellent instructors. With little assistance from funds, it has been usually in a prosper- ous condition ; and has sent out many excellent scholars to the New-England Colleges. In 1756 Plainfield contained 1,800 inhabitants ; in 1774, 1,562 ; in 1800, 1,619; and, in 1810, 1,738. In 1756, the number of slaves was 49; in 1774, 83; in 1800, none. Whether any part of this township has been taken off since the first of these enumer ations I am ignorant. If there has not, 1 suspect there is an error in the number. Plainfield contains two congregations ; a Presbyterian, and a Baptist: Sterling one; a Presbyterian. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER LIU. Preston— Lisbon— The Shetucket— Quinibaug, and Thames Rivers— Norwich- Gov. Huntington. Dear Sir, Tuesday morning, -October 21st, we proceeded on our journey through Plainfield ; and, passing through a corner of Preston, and a part of Lisbon, we arrived at Norwich before dinner. Of Preston we saw nothing, except a skirt of the township, and a little village, called Jewett's city; consisting of a few well-ap pearing houses on the Eastern bank of the Quinibaug. I forgot to observe, that Plainfield was purchased, together with Canterbury, in 1 659, by Governor Winthrop. Twenty years af terwards it was settled by some planters from Chelmsford in Mas sachusetts ; and was incorporated in 1699. Preston is a considerable township of valuable land, bounded Northward by Plainfield, Westward by the Quinibaug, Southward by Groton, and a part of North-Stonington, and Eastward by a part of North-Stonington, and by Voluntown. It contains three Presbyterian, one Independent, and one Baptist, Congregations. In 1756, the number of its inhabitants was 2,018 ; slaves 78. In 1774, it was 2,338; slaves '83: in 1800,3,440; slaves 5: in 181,0, 3,284. Lisbon was formerly a part of Norwich. This is an ex cellent township : the soil being here, as in most of the region ou the Quinibaug, the reddish loam, heretofore mentioned ; but less mixed with clay. Naturally it is suited to every production of the climate ; but is said, for some time past, to have been Less fa vourable to wheat than formerly. The reason is probably that, which I mentioned in my observations concerning the County of Worcester. Our journey lay along the Eastern border of -this township. Here it was a succession of hills and valleys, on which are interspersed fine groves of tall and beautiful trees. One of these eminences named Bundy Hill is sufficiently difficult, to make a humane traveller feel for his horses. The whole region LETTER LUI. 41 between Plainfield and Norwich, except the little village mention ed above, is a collection of farms, cultivated by inhabitants, gen erally in easy circumstances. Lisbon includes two parishes; and contained in 1800, 1,158 inhabitants; and io 1810, 1,128. That part of die township of Norwich, through which we pass ed, is much inferiour to Lisbon, both in the fertility of its soil, and the beauty of its surface. The town-plat is principally a val ley ; rather smooth and pleasant, but bordered by rude hills, and on the West by rugged precipices, which abut disagreeably upon the gardens, and in some instances almost upon buildings. Norwich lies "upon ttwee rivers, which have their confluence within its bounds: the Little river or Y antic, Shetucket, and •Quinibaug. The first of tfiese has its sources in Lebanon, and Colchester. It is a valuable mill-stream ; and about a mile above its mouth, falls very romantically, over a confused mass of gran ite. Colonel Trumbull was so well pleased with this spot, that he took, a few years since, three beautiful views of as many dif ferent scenes, which it furnishes. The principal branches of the Shetucket have their sources in Stafford, Tolland, and Union. These unite in the South- West ern corner of Windham : whence the common stream proceeds along fee Southern skirt of that township ; and then, forming the boundary between Lisbon on the East, and Franklin and Norwich on the West, unites with the Quinibaug just above the city of Norwich. This river, having its sources in a country, formed of high hills, (the Lyme range,) is subject to sudden and violent freshets ; and frequently ravages its banks with great fury, and not a little devastation. The river, which empties its waters into the Sound at New- London, is more unhappily named, than any other. Hop, Willi- mantic, Fonton's, Mount Hope, and Bigelow's, rivers, uniting in Windham, form the Shetucket. After this river unites with the Quinibaug, the common stream bears the name of Shetucket, until it reaches the point, on which Chelsea is built; here customarily called Norwich Landing. From this point to the ocean it is nam- 42 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. ed the Thames. To remove this misnomer, I would call the Quinibaug, the longest and noblest of these branches, the Thames : and, if propriety be permitted to influence, I am sure of being fol lowed by my countrymen. Now, a stranger, conversing with the inhabitants of this region concerning the Thames, and its branch es, can neither understand them, nor be understood by them.* Norwich contains two parishes ; the Town, and Chelsea ; and four congregations : two Presbyterian, one Episcopal, and a Bap tist. The centres of these parishes are distant from each other about two miles : but the buildings of both are extended to the dividing line. The ends are spread out, and populous : the mid dle is a single chain of houses. The town contains a considera ble number of good, ancient houses; together with a number, not small, of those which are decayed. Chelsea is built more in the modern style ; and generally exhibits a sprightlier and better ap pearance. There is also a settlement above the town, consisting principally of farmers, and included in the first parish. The two parishes are supposed to contain upwards of 500 houses. Half of the courts in the County of New-London are holden here. The Court-House is not remarkable for its beauty. The Presby terian churches are good structures. Nothing can be more ir regular than the manner, in which this town is built. Chelsea, particularly, is a high, steep and rocky point ; encompassed by a margin, scarcely wide enough to admit two rows of houses. The inhabitants have been obliged, in many instances, to level spots for their buildings, before they could lay the foundations. The plain between Chelsea, and the town, is, however, beautiful ground. This city, besides the usual parochial schools, has an Academy, and another school supported by funds. Its religious and moral interests, are, as I believe, nearly on the same level with, those of the ancient settlements, in New-England generally ; perhaps a little above that level. The government of^Norwich is vested in a Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Council. * When a child, I had similar perplexities about the Trent and the Humber. LETTER LIU. 43 The inhabitants of this town were formerly distinguished be yond any other in the State for the variety, and abundance, of their manufactures : while at the same time they carried on a prosperous commerce. Within the last twenty years their trade has suffered severely from several causes ; particularly from fires, and French depredations. From the latter source no town with in my knowledge has experienced greater losses, in proportion to its trading capital. Its commerce however is still considera ble : and Chelsea has lately increased much in its buildings, and population. At a future day it must, I think, be one of the three most commercial places in Connecticut. For a great part of the Easlprn division of the State it must ever be the most convenient por*: and* there are now turnpike roads, branching to it from al most every town in this region. Norwich has always been the residence of ma%y respectable in habitants. The names of Huntington and Lathrop have long been distinguished. The late Governor Huntington deserves to be particularly mentioned. This gentleman was originally a lawyer; and in this character rose to high estimation. In public life he sustained the offices of representative, councillour, member of the old congress, President of the same, Chief justice of the State, Lieutenant-Governor, and Governor. All these offices he filled usefully, and honourably ; and died in the gubernatorial chair. With this gentleman I was intimately acquainted ; and revere his memory for his candour, moderation, wisdom, integrity, patriot ism and piety. It ought to be observed that he rose to this re spectability without the advantages of a liberal education. In the year 1756, Norwich, including Lisbon, Franklin and Bozrah, contained 5,540 inhabitants : slaves 223: and, in 1774, 7,327 : slaves 295. Within the same limits, there were in 1800, 6,778 inhabitants : slaves twenty. The present Norwich contained in 1800, 3,476 ; in 1810, 3,528. I am, Sir, youjg, &c. LETTER L1V. Montvilie— Mohegan Tribe of Indians— Uncas the chief Sachem— Return. Dear Sir, Wednesday morning, October 22d we left Norwich ; and pro ceeded through the skirt of Montvilie to New-London : twelve miles. The road is a turnpike : the first which was made in the United States. The former road was perfectly fitted to force upon the public mind the utility of turnpike roads. As New- London is^Jthe Portjof entry for Norwich, the merchani^olPJJor- wich must often visit it upon business; and the convenieMlofBes- patch in cases ot&usiness I need not explain. Yet few persros for merly attempted'^ go from one of these places to the other, and return, on the same day. Pleasure-carriages on this road were scarcely used at all. The new road is smooth, and good : and the journey is now easily performed in little more than two hours. These towns, therefore may be regarded as having been brought nearer to each other more than half a days journey. The views, here presented to the traveller, are frequently pleasant. The township of Montvilie is a collection of hills and vallies, cultivated by substantial farmers. The soil is good ; and liberal ly rewards the labour of the husbandman. Montvilie consists wholly of plantations, and contained, in the year 1800, 2,233 in habitants ; and in the year 1810, 2,187. Montvilie includes the principal Moheagan Reservation ; that is, land, reserved by the State for the maintainance of this tribe of Indians. The number of these people, who were remaining in 1774, was, in Montvilie, 206. At the same time, there were in Stonington 237 ; in Groton 186 ; in Lyme 104 ; in Norwich 61 ; and in Preston 30 : in all, 824. These, universally, may be con sidered as descended from those, who once owed some kind of allegiance to Uncas ; an Indian chief not a little celebrated in the history of this country. The lands, owned by these people in Montvilie, are valuable'; and of sufficient extent to yield them, LETTER LHI. 46 with moderately good cultivation, a comfortable support. They are partly cultivated by themselves ; and partly leased to the farmers in the neighbourhood. From neither of these parts do they, probably, derive any great advantage. Their agriculture is miserably imperfect : and that of their neighbours is, I presume, more useful to themselves, than to the Indians. The concerns of these Indians have been long superintended with great upright ness and fidelity by the Hon. William Hillhouse, many years a Councillour of this State. On our way we visited the spot where Uncas formerly lived. No pjace could have been pitched on with more felicity. It is a Mgh pojjnt of land, commanding a noble and extensive view of th\ Thajhes, here a large river, and of the country on both sides. It was, therefore, well fitted for the discovery of an "enemy's ap proach ; and furnished every convenience to* hostile excursions. At the same time it bordered on a never failing supply of provis ions, furnished by the scale and shell fish, with which both the river, and the neighbouring ocean, have ever been richly stored. Uncas was originally a petty Sachem ; a Pequod by birth ; a subject, and a tributary, to Sassacus. When the English made war upon the Pequods, Uncas was unfriendly to this chieftain ; and would have quarrelled with him, had he not been kept in awe by the talents, and prowess, of this formidable warrior. Of the English he appears to have entertained, from the first, a very respectful opinion ; and, when he saw them determined upon a war with his master, concluded to unite his forces, and his fortune, with theirs. His dread of Sassacus, was, however, so great, that when Captain Mason marched against the Pequods, he did not believe him to be serious in his professed design of attacking that terrible nation ; nor did he ever engage in the conflict, until after Mason and his little band of heroes had stormed the Pequod for tress. Upon the death of Sassacus, Uncas became the Sachem of the remaining Pequods, as well as of the Moheagans. In this charac ter he claimed, perhaps rightfully enough, as*there was no other Vol. II. 7 46 JOllRNEY TO BERWICK. acknowledged heir, all the territory, which had been possessed by that tribe. This tract included almost the whole of the Eastern division of Connecticut, from the middle of the Lyme range. He understood his own interest too well to quarrel with the English ; and had a sufficient share of cunning to support his claims with very plausible reasons. They were, therefore, generally allowed. From this time he became one of the most formidable, and al together the most prosperous, Indian chieftain in Southern New- England. Over his subjects he exercised a more efficacious and unresisted government, than perhaps was ever exercised by any other Sachem. Nor was his. control confined to them; but ex tended, in a considerable degree, to several of the tribes on the Western side ofjthe Connecticut. To his enemies he,. became scarcely less forMdable, than Sassacus had been before him. At the head of four or five hundred men, he met Miantonomoh, a brave and sagacious Chief of the Narrhagansetts, coming to at tack him with twice the number ; and, after having in vain chal lenged him to single combat, defeated his army, took him pris oner, and put him to death. On this occasion he cut a piece of flesh from his shoulder ; roasted and ate it ; and with the true spir it of a savage declared, that it was the sweetest meat, which he had ever tasted in his life. The avarice, ambition, and restlessness, of this man frequently embroiled him with his neighbours ; and were sometimes trouble some to his English allies. The natives considered them as the friends of Uncas ; and implicated them more or less in his mis chievous conduct. When he found the English resentful, and himself severely censured ; he made such submissions, promises, and presents, as he thought necessary to restore their good-will, and secure his future peace. But he was not indebted for these advantages to his address only. On several occasions he render ed them real and important assistance; and to their interests he adhered faithfully, and uniformly. No Indian among the New- England tribes, except Massasoit, exhibited an equally steady at tachment to the Colonists, or so regular an adherence to his en- LETTER LUI. 47 gagements. Hence he enjoyed their public friendship, and the good-will of individuals among them, until the day of his death. Throughout most of his life he was hostile to the Christian reli gion. At Wabquisset, or Wabbaquasset, (Woodstock,) he openly opposed the efforts of Mr. Elliot, and Major General Gookin, to christianize the Indians of that place. His agent, sent for this purpose, declared his Master's displeasure against their proceed ings ; and insisted, that the christianized Indians became less obe dient to his government, and paid their tribute with less punctu ality. Towards the close of his life, however, he appeared to think more favourably of Christianity. Uncas' died at an advanced age, in his own house ; and left his power, and his property, to his Children. Onecho, his eldest son, commanded a party of Mohcagans in a war, which the English car ried on against the Narrhagansetts, in 1676. The family, howev er, soon declined in their importance by the general declension of their tribe, and the sale of their property "to the English. A few years since, a man, descended from Uncas, came from North-Car olina, or Tennessee, where he is settled ; and obtained permission of the Connecticut Legislature to sell his patrimonial share in this tract. This man had received a military commission from the British government ; and, it is said, was well dressed, well inform ed, sensible, and gentlemanly in his deportment. He is probably the only respectable descendant of Uncas, now living. The Moheagans have been repeatedly solicited by the Oneidas to sell their own lands, and plant themselves at Brothertown in the State of New- York, a township, given by the Oneidas to the In dians of Connecticut. A few of them have, I believe, complied. Generally, they are so attached to their native spot, so addicted to a lazy, sauntering life, and so secure of gaining an easy liveli hood by fishing in the neighouring waters, as to feel little inclina tion to remove. Indeed, their circumstances, unless they should become industrious farmers, would certainly be made worse by their removal : and, if they are willing to labour, the lands, which they here possess, would furnish them ample subsistence. 48 JOURNEY TO BERWICK. Thursday, October 24th, we left New-London ; and, being de tained half a day at the ferry by a violent wind, rode only to Say- brook: twenty miles. The next day we arrived, without any ac cident, at New-Haven : thirty-four miles: having travelled, inclu ding occasional excursions, seven hundred miles in the whole. The towns, which lie in this part of our route, I shall describe hereafter. I am, &c. JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. LETTER I. North-Haven — Wallingford — Meriden — Berlin — Mount Lamentation — Manufac- ture of Tin Ware. Dear Sir, It was my intention, when I began the journey, of which 1 have already given you an account, to go to Portland : the prin cipal town in the District of Maine. This intention was frustra ted by the badness of the roads from Berwick onward. On the 18th September, 1797, I commenced another journey with the same design, in company with Mr. L. one of the Tutors of Yale College. Both of us wished, also, to examine the country along Connecticut river, and to visit the White Mountains ; which rise in the upper parts of New-Hampshire, and are the highest hills in the American Union. Accordingly we directed our course to Lancaster ; a recent settlement in that State, on the Eastern bank of the river, about two hundred and seventy miles North of New- Haven. Thence we proposed to proceed, through the Notch of the White Mountains, in the only road, which led from the West, to Portland. On the first day we proceeded to Berlin : twenty- six miles. Our road lay wholly in the valley, formed by the Middletown range on the East, and that of Mount Tom on the West; commencing at New-Haven, and terminating in the Con necticut Valley at Wefhersfield and Hartford. This I have taken the liberty to call the Valley of Berlin. The first sixteen rrilfts of it are principally sandy and heavy. The rest is over firm ground, and tolerably good. Abetter road h&c been projected to Hartford ; and since this journey was taken, has been com pleted. SO JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. After leaving New-Haven, we crossed a corner of the township of Hamden ; or, as it ought to be written, Hampden. Thence we entered North-Haven. North-Haven lies on both sides of Wallingford river ; and com prises the valley, and a part of the bordering hills. The soil of the valley is partly rich interval land, and more extensively sand, covered with a thin stratum of loam ; light, but warm; and yield ing tolerable crops of rye. Near the Northern limit of the town ship it is so light, as in two or three places, of small extent, to be blown into drifts. In these places it is absolutely barren. The soil of the hills is good : being the reddish loam, heretofore men tioned. The inhabitants of North-Haven, living so near to New-Haven, and accustomed to carry every thing to that market, are in easy and thriving circumstances. The township is divided principally into scattered plantations. There is, however, a small village' around the churches. The ancient houses are ill built, and de creasing. The modern ones are good farmers' houses, and in creasing in their number. There are two congregations in North-Haven: a Presbyterian, and an Episcopal. The latter is a small plurality, under the care of a neighbouring minister. The churches stand upon a square in the centre of the township. The Episcopal is without a stee ple. The bell of the Presbyterian church is partly composed of a mass of virgin copper, weighing ninety pounds ; which some years since was found in Hamden, at the foot of Mount Carmel. North-Haven, as I formerly observed, was originally a part of New-Haven. In 1790, it contained 1,236 ; in 1800, 1,157 ; and, in 1810, 1,239 inhabitants. Wallingford bounds North-Haven on the North ; and lies, also, on both sides of the river. The plain, here, is narrow. The in tervals, and the hill country, richer and more extensive. The soil of the township, generally, is excellent : being the loam so often mentioned. The town of Wallingford is beautifully situa ted on a fine elevation ; a mile and a half East of the river : and consists principally of a single street, extending along the ridge of the hill, from a mile and a half to two miles. LETTER I. 51 Wallingford at the date of this journey, contained two parishes : Wallingford and Meriden. In Meriden there is a small neat vil lage on a handsome eminence in the centre of the parish. The remainder of the township is distributed into farms. There are four congregations in Wallingford : two Presbyteri an, an Episcopal, and a Baptist. There are also four churches. The first Presbyterian church, only, has a steeple. The second Presbyterian congregation, since this journey was taken, has, I believe, united with the first. The Baptist church, but for some windows, half glazed, would be mistaken for a barn : and is, I think, the most indifferent building, consecrated to the worship of God, which I have ever seen in this State. All these congrega tions, except the first Presbyterian, are small. Meriden contains two congregations and two churches : a Pres byterian, and an Episcopal, which is a plurality. This church, also, is without a steeple. Wallingford was settled in 1670; and was originally called New-Haven Village. The inhabitants, although not without ma ny respectable exceptions, are far from being distinguished by their attachment to. learning. Within the fifteen years, preceding 1810, no native of this town has, within my knowledge, received a liheral education. In Meriden, the business of manufacturing culinary utensils from tin plates has been considerably extended ; and is becoming a source of wealth to the inhabitants. Fruit trees usually blossom here on the Southern declivity of the hills, and in the valley at the bottom, three or four days ear lier than at New-Haven. In the year 1756, Wallingford contain ed 3,713 inhabitants ; in the year 1774, 4,777; of whom 134 were slaves. It then included Cheshire, a considerable township, ly ing immediately Westward of the Mount Tom range, in the val ley of Farmington. In the year 1 790, it contained 3,375 ; in 1800, 3,214. It then included Meriden, which has since been in corporated as a town. In the year 1810, Wallingford contained 2,325, and Meriden 1,249. 52 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Berlin lies immediately North of Wallingford. Here the val ley expands, at the Southern limit of the Township, from four to five miles; and, at the Northern, not less than eight ; the Middle- town range, which bounds it on the South, turning Eastward, and the range of Mount Tom diverging to the North. No township within my knowledge, which does not border upon the ocean, a lake, or a large river, is equally beautiful with this. It is compos ed, almost wholly, of a vast basin, studded with several fine em inences, and the acclivities, by which it is surrounded. On the South-Eastern side runs the Middletown range; on the North- Eastern, shooting out from it as a spur, a small ridge, called New- ington Mountain ; on the North-Western, the range of Mount Tom, at such a distance, as to leave a large opening to the North; and on the South- Western, a succession of rising grounds, exten ding over the breadth of the valley. In the Mount Tom range, beside the general chain, are seen in the South-Western point the noble bluffs of the Blue Mountains in Southington, at the dis tance of ten miles ; Farmington Mountain, five ; West Mountain, fifteen ; and the peak of Mount Tom, forty-five. The basin it self is a scoop of singular elegance and beauty. The soil is of the richest kind ; the groves thrifty ; the vegetation luxuriant : and the interspersion of churches, houses, and fields delightful. In the Middletown range there is a handsome eminence on the South ; called, from the following incident, Mount Lamentation. Mr. Chester, formerly a distinguished inhabitant of Wethers- field, lost himself, many years since, in the forests, with which this region was then covered. His fellow-citizens came out in a body, to search for him : but, after exploring the forests a consid erable time, they gave over the search: concluding, that he was dead. From the lamentations, which they here made for the supposed, unhappy end of this respectable man, the mountain de rived its name. He was, however, soon after found alive. Berlin contains three parishes : Worthington on the East, Ken sington on the West, and New- Britain on the North : neither of the parishes bearing the name of the township. This fact has, I suppose, arisen here, and elsewhere, from the fear, lest one of the LETTER I. 53 parishes should assume an aristocratical precedency. Worthing ton Was so named, from respect to the Hon. John Worthington, LL. D. late of Springfield. This gentleman and two others were chosen, to divide the original parish of Kensington, comprehend ing at that time both the Southern parishes ; and by his prudent, and persuasive, efforts to quiet their contentions recommended himself so much to the inhabitants, that they petitioned the Le<- gislature to call the second parish by his name. Worthington is a handsome village, extending about a mile on the road, where it passes along a beautiful eminence. The houses in it are general ly good, and the prospects superiour. The inhabitants of this village make great quantities of tin ware; or utensils, formed of tinned plates. As this species of manufac ture, on the Western side of the Atlantic, probably commenced here ; I will give you an account of the manner, in which it was introduced. About the year 1 740, William Pattison, a native of Ireland, came to this country, and settled in this town. His trade was that of a tinner: and soon after his arrival, he commenced man ufacturing tin ware, and continued in that business until the Rev olutionary war. He was then under the necessity of suspending it, as the raw material could not be obtained. After the war, this manufacture was carried on at Berlin, by those young men who had learned the art from Mr. Pattison ; and these persons have since extended the business over a number of the neighbour ing towns. For many years, after tinned plates were manufactured in this place into culinary vessels, the only method used by the pedlars for conveying them to distant towns, for sale, was by means of a horse and two baskets, balanced on his back. After the war, carts and waggons were used for this purpose, and have, from that time to the present, been the only means of conveyance which have been adopted. The manner, in which this ware is disposed of, puts to flight all calculation. A young man is furnished by the proprietor with, a horse, and a cart covered with a box, containing as many tin Vol. II. 8 54 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. vessels, as the horse can conveniently draw. This vehicle with in a few years has, indeed, been frequently exchanged for a wag*. gon ; and then the load is doubled. Thus prepared, he sets out on an expedition for the winter. A multitude of these young men direct themselves to the Southern States ; and in their ex cursions travel wherever they can find settlements. Each of them walks, and rides, alternately, through this vast distance, till he reaches Richmond, Newbern, Charleston, or Savannah ; and usu ally carries with him to the place of his destination no small part of the gain, which he has acquired upon the road. Here he finds one or more workmen, who have been sent forward to .co-operate with him, furnished with a sufficient quantity of tinned plates to supply him with all the ware, which he can sell during the season. With this he wanders into the interiour country ; calls at every door on his way ; and with an address, and pertinacity, not easily resisted, compels no small number of the inhabitants to buy. At the commencement of summer they return to New- York ; and thence to New-Haven, by water ; after selling their vehicles, and their horses. The original load of a single horse, as I am told, is rarely worth more than three hundred dollars ; or of a waggon, more than six hundred. Yet this business is said to yield both the owner and his agent valuable returns ; and the profit to be great er than that, which is made by the sale of any ether merchandize of equal value. Even those, who carry out a single load, and dispose of it in the neighbouring country, find their employment profitable. In this manner considerable wealth has been accu mulated in Worthington, and in several towns in its vicinity. Every inhabited part of the United States is visited by these men. I have seen them on the peninsula of Cape Cod, and in the neighbourhood of Lake Erie ; distant from each other more than six hundred miles. They make their way to Detroit, four hundred miles farther ; to Canada ; to Kentucky ; and, if I mis take not, to New-Orleans and St. Louis. All the evils, which are attendant upon the bartering of small wares, are incident to this, and every other mode of traffic of the same general nature. Many of the young men, employed in this LETTER I. , 55 business, part, at an early period with both modesty, and princi ple. Their sobriety is exchanged for cunning; their honesty for. imposition ; and their decent behaviour for coarse impudence. Mere wanderers, accustomed to no order, control, or worship; and directed solely to the acquisition of petty gains ; they soon fasten upon this object ; and forget every other, of a superiour nature. The only source of their pleasure, or their reputation, is gain ; and that, however small, or however acquired, secures both. No course of life tends more rapidly, or more effectually to eradicate every moral feeling. Berlin bas, I suspect, suffered not a little from this source. Were their maufactures sold, like other merchandize ; the profits would undoubtedly be lessened : but the corruption of a conside rable number of human beings would be prevented.* I am, Sir, yours, &c. * The business of selling tin ware, has within a few years undergone a considera ble change. Formerly the pedlar's load was composed exclusively of this manufac ture : now he has an assortment of merchandize to offer to his customers. He car ries pins, needles, scissars, combs, eoat and vest buttons, with many other trifling ar ticles of hardware; and children's books, and cotton stuffs made in New-England* A number set out with large waggons loaded with dry goods," hats and shoes ; togeth er with tin ware, and the smaller articles already mentioned. These loads will fre quently cost the proprietor from one te- two thousand dollars ; and are intended ex clusively for the Southern and Western States. It is frequently the fact, that from twenty to thirty persons are employed by a sin gle bouse, in the manufacturing and selling of tin ware and other articles. The workmen, furnished with a sufficient quantity of the raw materials to employ them for six months, are sent on by water, in the autumn, to Virginia, North and South Car olina, or Georgia. They station themselv/es at some town in the interiour, where the employer, or his agent, has a store, well furnished with such articles as the ped lars require. As the stock of each pedlar is exhausted, he repairs to the store for a supply. In this way, a large amount of goods are vended during the six or eight months they are absent. Some idea may be formed of the extent te which this- business is sometimes car ried, from the fact, that immediately after the late war with Great Britain, which terminated in 1815, ten thousand boxes oftinned plates were manufactured into, cu linary vessels in the town of Berlin, in one year. Since that time, however, the quantity demanded for this market, has greatly diminished. — Pub. LETTER II. Hatfield— Whately— Deerfield— Battles with the Indians at Bloody Brook and Hat- field— Deerfield River— Burning of Deerfield, and captivity of Rev. Mr. Wil liams, and many of the inhabitants. Dear Sir, We began our journey from Berlin on the 1 9th, and rode through Wethersfield, and Hartford, to Windsor: twenty-three miles. The following morning we rode through Suffield to Spring field ; and, after dinner, by the South-Hadley canal to Northamp ton. The next day we crossed the river to Hadley ; and on Fri day, the 22d, we rode through Hatfield, Whateley, Deerfield, Greenfield, Bernardston, and Gill, to Northfield : thirty-four miles. About two-thirds of the road are good : of the remaining third, seven miles are a heavy sand, and the rest stony and rough. Hatfield lies opposite to the North end of Hadley, at the dis tance of a mile and a half. It is built chiefly on two streets : the principal, running North and South hear a mile : the other, about as far, East and West. The houses are generally decent ; and a small number in a better style. Hatfield contains 9,000 acres; 2,000 of them, however, are in the bounds of Williamsburg ; which, together with Whateley, was formerly a parish of Hatfield : and all three were originally in cluded within the bounds of Hadley. A part of this township is a pine plain ; a part, intervals of the first quality ; and the re maining part, valuable upland. The inhabitants have for a long period been conspicuous for uniformity of character. They have less intercourse with their neighbours, than those of most other places. An air of silence, and retirement, appears every where. Except travellers, few persons are seen abroad, beside those, who are employed about their daily business. This seclusion probably renders them less agreeable to strangers ; but certainly contributes to their prosper- LETTER II. 57 ity. Accordingly, few farming towns are equally distinguished either for their property or their thrift. Men, who devote them selves to their own concerns, usually manage them well. The people of Hatfield are good farmers. Their fields are cultivated, and their cattle fattened, in a superiour manner. The principal street lies on an interval. Connecticut river anciently ran, not only where the houses are now built, but near ly half a mile farther Westward ; and washed the foot of a hill, where runs a mill-stream, called Hatfield mill-river. This inter val has been greatly extended towards Hadley, since the settle ment of this country. Several considerable lots have been wash ed away from the Hadley shore, within sixty or seventy years : and tracts, equally large, have been added to the Hatfield shore. It cannot be wondered at, that this process of alluvion, and ablu- vion, which has gone on ever since the deluge, or perhaps more correctly, ever since Connecticut river broke down the ancient mound between Mount Tom and Mount Holyoke, should produce even greater changes than these. The proof, that these have ta-> ken place, is complete. A bridge has been built over Connecticut river between Had ley and Hatfield, since the date of this journey. Hatfield was incorporated May llth, 1670. A part of its history will be reci ted hereafter. In 1790, it contained 103 dwelling-houses, and 703 inhabitants; in 1800, 123 houses, and 809 inhabitants; in 1810, 805. Whateley lies immediately North of Hatfield ; and consists al so of three divisions : an interval, a yellow-pine plain, and a col lection of hills. The soil of the two first is indifferent ; that of the last is rich. The road passes over the plain ; and exhibits no part of the settlements, beside a little hamlet, consisting of a few houses, chiefly of an indifferent appearance. The hills are covered with a collection of Valuable farms. In the year 1 790, this township contained 1 20 houses, and 736 inhabitants; in the year 1800, 773; in 1810, 891. This plain, generally dull and wearisome to the traveller, pre sents, nevertheless, several fine objects to the eye ; particularly 58 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Sugar-loaf; the South end of Deerfield Mountain, and partially cut off from it by a valley. It is a sharp, and somewhat irregu lar, cone; singularly resembling the object, from which it derives its name. The Southern side presents a bold precipice, extend ing from the summit half way to the base. A huge mass of rocks, and fragments of sandstone at the bottom has been shaken off from this eminence, either by the gradual influence of time, or by some violent convulsion of nature. Two great openings ber tween Sugarloaf and Mount Toby on the East, and the hills which have been mentioned, on the West, appear like two vistas, to which there are no limits, beside such as are formed by the im agination. Near the Southern extremity of Deerfield is a small settlement, called Muddy brook, and anciently Bloody brook ; on which, in the year 1675, there was a severe action between a body of the Colonists, and an army of savages. To give you a just view of this event, it will be necessary to have recourse to some prece ding facts. Until the year 1675, the English inhabitants of this County had lived in as perfect harmony with their neighbours, as can be sup posed to exist between bodies of men, of so different characters, principles and interests. The settlers originally purchased their lands of the Indians at an equitable price ; and had paid the full amount of their demands, and the real value of the purchase. In . all their intercourse with them also, they had exhibited exempla ry justice and humanity. The first hostilities commenced in this" region, and throughout most of New-England, in consequence of the policy, intrigues, and influence, of the celebrated Philip. The character of this Sachem I have already given. With a discern ment, a comprehensiveness of views, and an efficacy of address, unprecedented among the Aborigines of this country, he succeed ed in a design, which few of them ever formed, and none of them was able to accomplish : that of uniting the great body of his countrymen in one effort to extirminate the Colonists. This fact, though questioned by a very respectable historian* of New-Eng- *Dr. Bellknap. LETTER II. 59 land, is, I think, clearly confirmed by the writers, and the events of the period, in which it existed. It is questioned, therefore, from philosophical principles only. Nor will these principles, when the subject is fairly examined, furnish any solid foundation for doubt. The Indians of New-England, though divided into many tribes belonged to one nation ; spoke one language ; and had one set of customs, manners, and religious rites. According ly they claimed, and acknowledged, a common kindred; and styled themselves, in the proper sense, Brothers. Almost always at war with each other, they still had a common interest ; and at this time felt it peculiarly. The Colonists, already numerous and for midable, were daily increasing both in numbers and powe&. Jealousy easily kindled in all men, burns of course in the breast of a savage and the fuel now furnished, raised it into a flame. Almost every tribe in Southern New-England was directly solicit ed by Philip, or his agents, to engage in a general war against the Colonists. Such a war actually broke out at this very pe riod : an event unprecedented, improbable, and on any other ground inexplicable. Sassacus, at a very early date, had made the same attempt without success : for the other tribes dreaded the Pequods more than they dreaded the English. This war united tribes, hostile to each other, destitute of any pretence for quarrelling with the English, and hitherto living with them in un interrupted harmony. Such were the tribes in this Country. Fi nally, all this was acknowledged by the Indians of Hadley : a tribe covering a considerable extent of country, at perfect peace with the planters of their neighbourhood through forty years, and now destitute of the slightest cause for hostility. These Indians declared that they took up the hatchet by the instigation of Philip. The first proof of their intentions was their desertion of their fortress, and their houses : a proof completely equivalent in the existing circumstances, to a declaration of war. Accordingly, they were pursued by a party of the English ; and were overtaken just after they had passed the river at the foot of Sugarloaf ; about eight miles above Hatfield. Here on the 25th of August 1675, a -skirmish engued, in which nine or ten of the English fell ; and 60 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. about twenty six of the Indians. The rest escaped ; and joined a party of Philip's friends in the neighbourhood. On the first of September following, they attacked Deerfield ; and burnt most of the houses. A few days afterwards, they fell upon Northfield ; and killed nine or ten of the inhabitants. Em boldened by these and several other successes, they assembled in a body of seven or eight hundred, with an intention to destroy Hatfield. Captains Mosely and Pool, were quartered here with their companies ; as was Major Appleton with another compa ny at Hadley. The savages assaulted Hatfield at the two ex tremes and in the centre, at the same time. Appleton and Pool defended the extremes ; and Mosely the centre. Early in the en gagement about ten of the English were killed : but the recep tion, which the assailants met, was so warm, and probably so unex pected, that, after burning several buildings, they fled with pre cipitation ; and were so much discouraged, as to leave the coun try for some months in quiet. On the 30th of May, 1676, a body of six or seven hundred fell upon Hatfield again ; and burnt about a dozen houses and barns, in the skirts of the town. As the assault was made in the day time, the men were chiefly abroad in the fields, at their husband ry. The people who were left behind, betook themselves to some fortified houses, near the centre of the town, for protection. One part of the enemy attacked these fortresses : while another employed themselves in collecting and driving away, the cattle, belonging to the inhabitants. In the mean time twenty five young men from Hadley, having crossed the river soon after the attack began, forced their way, through the body of savages with invincible resolution ; and, with the loss of only five of their num ber, killed several of the enemy, then joining the inhabitants, who had returned from their fields, they defended the town in the most gallant manner. This brave resistance so discouraged the Indians, that they withdrew with their plunder ; and never afterwards made any serious attack upon Hatfield. I have observed, that in September 1675, the savages invaded Deerfield, and buj:nt tfie principal part of the houses. It was LETTER II. 61 then evacuated by the inhabitants ; who fled to the neighbouring settlements for protection. Their harvest had been cut about two months before ; and having been stacked in the fields, escap ed the conflagration. A number of men went from the settle ments below, with a collection of teams, to bring it away. Capt. Lathrop voluntarily offered to go with a company of eighty men and protect this enterprise. The wheat, about 3000 bushels, was threshed, loaded upon carts, and without molestation conveyed to the brook mentioned above. It has been said, that the English stopped here, to gather grapes ; and that the assault was made, while they were thus employed : but Hubbard declares that the enemy fell upon them, while they were marching. Be this as it may ; seven or eight hundred Indians, on the 1 8th of September, attacked them at this place with their customary fury. Capt. Lathrop, with a very natural, but fatal mistake, ordered each of his men to betake himself to a tree, and to fight the enemy in their own manner. Nothing could have been more unhappy : for the Indians by their superiour numbers completely surrounded them. Every man, wherever he stood, had therefore an enemy behind him, by whom he was liable to be destroyed in the very act of pointing his musket at another. Besides, the savages, habituated to fight in this manner from their childhood, were both more alert in it, and more skilful. Every savage is trained to run with the greatest rapidity; to conceal himself with unexampled caution ; to take every advantage, presented either by the ground, or by the forest, to deceive, and circumvent his less cautious enemy, to watch inpatient silence all his motions; and to direct towards him certain death, at the moment, and from the quarter, most unsus pected. In a word, all the skill, and all the facility, which the whole energy of a savage mind can compass, the Indians, with respect to this mode of warfare, universallypossess. It is impossible therefore, that in any case of this nature they should fail of a superiority over their enemies, unless those enemies should have been habituated to the same system. When the Colonists have been long used to this manner of fighting, they have often, from superiour intelli gence, been an overmatch for the Indians themselves. Vol. II. 9 62 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Of the justice of these remarks the history of New-England has furnished many proofs ; and one of the most distressing, in the present conflict. Captain Lathrop, and his company, fought with great gallantry : but they fought almost in vain. Lathrop himself fell at the commencement of the attack. Of the whole number ninety were killed on the spot : seven only escaped. The company consisted of choice young men : and is styled by Hub bard who lived in the midst of them, " the flower of the County of Essex." The tale spread with an electrical rapidity through out New-England ; and awakened, not only among their surviving friends, but throughout the country, the deepest lamentation. Captain Moseley, who seems to have been at Deerfield when the enterprise was undertaken, marched his company with the utmost expedition to relieve Lathrop. Before he arrived the contest was over : and the savages, flushed with their success, were pillaging the dead. Having formed his men in a firm col umn, and commanded them to keep their ranks, he charged the Indians with an intrepidity and vigour, probably never exceeded. and utterly superiour to savage resistance. In spite of their numbers, he drove them into a swamp ; and forced his way through their whole body. They then attempted to hang upon his rear; but with a presence of mind, which merits the honour able remembrance of his countrymen, he wheeled his men, and broke through the Indians a second time. In this manner he fought them five hours ; and drove them several miles, with such success, that while he had but two men killed, and eight or nine wounded, he destroyed, according to the acknowledgement of the savages themselves, ninety-six of their number. His Lieu tenants, Savage, and Pickering, nobly seconded the efforts, of their commander ; and were gallantly followed by every man in the company. So much were the savages awed, that numerous as they were after the contest was ended, and few as were their adversaries, this little band of heroes returned, that evening, to Deerfield, without molestation. Next morning, Moseley marched again to the field of battle,.; and again found the savages stripping the dead. Soon after, Ma- LETTER II. 63 jor Treat, from Connecticut, joined him with about one hundred men. The savages fled at the approach of Treat. The English buried the slain ; and withdrew. A monument of stones was afterwards raised over them by their countrymen ; and remains to the present time. But the stream, on the banks of which this memorable disaster took place, has itself become the most per manent memorial of the catastrophe, by receiving the dismal name of Bloody brook. In populous and powerful countries, where war is a profession al business, and battles are fought for the sake of dominion, victo ry, and glory ; where success, and defeat, are regarded not as sources of life and death to the combatants, nor of sorrow to their surviving friends, but as materials for a gazette extraordinary, means of gratifying the curiosity of news-readers, and causes of national triumph, or disgrace ; the inhabitants can form ho idea of the distress, spread throughout New-England by this event. The day, on which it took place, is styled by Hubbard, writing soon after, " the saddest day, that ever befel New-England." The disaster, unattended with that complication, and confusion, which envelope the horrours of regular war, and hide its miser ies from the eye, was sufficiently limited to be comprehended by every mind, and sufficiently particular to be felt by every heart. The very tradition, which conveyed it down to succeeding gen erations, was, for ninety years at least, attended with peculiar gloom and horrour. I remember it perfectly, as one of the most awful and melancholy tales of childhood ; and when I first pas sed by the spot, could not refrain from shuddering at the sight of this scene ot woe. Should you think these emotions too strong for the occasion, you' will remember, that the same proportional loss to England, at the present time, would be that of 13,000 men. In the village of Muddybrook, and its neighbourhood, I preach ed several years; and never found so attentive a congregation. To the lasting honour of this little flock, I take pleasure in re cording here, that, while many other congregations, five, six, or eight times more numerous, and richer in a still greater propor tion, refused, during the period in which the continental curren- 64 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. cy was seriously depreciated, to pay the ancient stipend, custo marily established for preaching ; this little body of people, (and I will add those of South-Hadley also,) few in numbers, and gen erally in small circumstances, paid without a murmur, and with out hinting a wish to the contrary, the full sum. The township of Deerfield lies immediately North of Whate ley. Its surface is of every kind, from the roughest precipice to the most elegant interval ; and its soil distinguished by every va riety. It commences at Connecticut river in a succession of in tervals, immediately Westward of which rises Deerfield moun tain. This is succeeded by the valley, mentioned in the descrip tion of Whateley under the name of the Vista ; and this by a range of hills on the West, already mentioned, which form the remainder of its extent. From the Southern boundary about four miles, the space between these hills is occupied principally by a plain, about three miles in breadth ; a considerable part of which is good land. North of this plain lies an extensive collec tion of intervals along Deerfield river, spreading into the town ship of Greenfield. This river rises in Somerset, and Wilmington, in the Counties of Bennington, and Windham, and State of Vermont. Thence it runs South-Eastward through the North-Western part of the County of Hampshire, until it passes about two miles South of the town of Deerfield. Then, turning directly North, it runs four miles farther ; and dividing Deerfield from Greenfield, directs its course Eastward two miles, through a gap in the Deerfield moun tain, into the Connecticut. Its whole length is about forty miles. This stream is of considerable size ; and remarkably rapid and violent. During most of its course, it passes between high and steep mountains. Rains therefore, and melted Snowsv, suddenly raise its waters to a great height ; and often exhibit the liveliest images of that fury, and ravage, which is so favourite a theme of poetical description. In the spring especially, the disruption of its ice at times presents to the eye and ear terrifying specimens of physical power, and most impressive exhibitions of awful and preeminent grandeur. -. LETTER II. 65 But in the mild and beautiful periods of the year, few scene? are more delightful, than this river and its borders. The inter vals, which accompany the whole of its Northern, and a consider able part of its Eastern, course, are unusually elegant, and pro ductive. The town itself is situated on a handsome elevation, in the midst of luxuriant meadows and orchards. In union with these objects, the neighbouring mountain on the East, the more distant hills on the West, covered with farms and forests, and the river winding at the bottom, form a landscape, which, more than most others, engages the eye of a traveller. The town is built on an elevation spreading out from the foot of the mountain. The principal street, on which stand three fourths of the houses, runs from North to South. The buildings are generally neat ; and exhibit every where a tidy, thrifty appear ance. The inhabitants are generally farmers ; and of the first class in this country. Few places can boast of larger crops ; and none of finer, fatter beeves. Indeed, the stall-fed beef of this, and other towns in the County of Hampshire, is proverbially dis tinguished throughout the Northern parts of the United States. The people of Deerfield have ever been patrons of education. In the year 1797 they raised, by subscription, a considerable fund ; and finished a commodious building for an Academy. The State added to it a township, of unsettled land, in the District of Maine. The usual number of students may be considered as va rying from forty to eighty. In four years there have been admit ted four hundred and seventy-six : a considerable number of them, however, for short terms. The institution is flourishing. Deer field contains but one congregation, and scarcely a dissenting in dividual. With the exception of a short period, during the Amer ican revolution, when they were unhappily engaged both in eccle siastical and political contentions, the inhabitants have been dis tinguished for uniform harmony, good order, and good morals. Deerfield was granted by the Legislature in the year 1669 ; and began to be settled in 1671. The first four years the inhabitants lived happily with the natives. Between 1675, and 1763, attacks were made upon the town, or upon some of its inhabitants, about 66 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. thirty times. Twice it was burnt; in 1675, and in 1704; and twice deserted; in 1675, and in 1677. In 1677, some of the in habitants returned to it ; but were driven off the second time, and did not renew the effort until 1682. In 1704 forty of the inhabi tants were killed ; and more than one hundred taken prisoners : amounting to one half of their whole number. Of this tragedy a particular account was written by the Rev. John Williams, their Minister ; who was himself taken prisoner, and could truly say : "Quaeque ipse miserrima vidi, Et quorum pars magna fui." After the death of Philip, in August 1676, the war, which he bad instigated, continued for some time ; and in several of the following years various mischief was done to the inhabitants of this unfortunate town. From the year 1688 to the year 1760, the French in Canada, who had gained an ascendency over many of the savage tribes, made it a primary part of their policy to ex cite these people to depredations on the Colonists of New-Eng land. No nation was ever so eagerly attentive to its political in terests as France ; and no government ever pursued its interests with equal fraud, cruelty, or destitution of principle. Until the late irruption of Infidelity in Europe, no men were ever more zealously engaged in making proselytes than the Canadian Clergy, or less encumbered with moral restraints. The government de manded scalps ; and paid a bounty for them. The Clergy called for captives, whom they might convert to the Romish religion. The demands of both were clamorous ; and produced an uninter rupted succession, and an immense diffusion, of fire and slaughter. In the year 1697, the savages attacked Deerfield : but the in habitants with Mr. Williams at their head, made so timely and vigorous a resistance, that the attempt miscarried. In 1703, Co lonel Schuyler of Albany, to whom the people of New-England were not a little indebted for friendly offices of this nature, adver tised the Deerfield people, that an expedition against them was on foot. Mr. Williams earnestly seconded his monitions ; and warned his parishioners to prepare for their defence. He also LETTER II. 6-7 applied to the government for a guard. His parishioners slept in quiet, and the government, as if they meant to laugh at the ap prehensions of danger, sent a guard of twenty men. The pre tence for the intended expedition was to avenge some wrongs^ done by Sir Edmund Andros to Monsieur Castine of Penobscot. Andros had plundered the house pf Castine. Castine complain ed to the Governour of Canada, and the Governour, a true French Jurist, promised him, as a compensation, that he would burn some of the New-England villages, and slaughter their inhabitants. On Tuesday, February 29th, 1 704, three hundred Frenchmen and Indians, under the command of the infamous Hextel De Rou- ville, broke in upon this unhappy town a little before day-break. Even the Watch partook of the common stupidity ; and lay down to sleep, two hours before day. The enemy, who had for some time been employed in reconnoitering the town, perceiving eve ry thing to be quiet, attacked the fortified house, in which the garrison was kept ; and made themselves masters of it without any difficulty. A party of them then forced the doors of Mr. Wil liams' house. Awaked by the noise, he saw a number of them entering his bed-room ; and snapped his pistol at an Indian, who first came to his bed-side. But he was immediately seized, dis armed, and bound ; and kept standing in his shirt near an hour. His house, in the mean time, was plundered of every thing valu able : and two of his children, together with a black female ser vant, were killed in cold blood before the door. They then per mitted him, and Mrs. Williams, with five other children, to put on their clothes. The town around them was on fire : and every house but one, the next to that of Mr. Williams, presented all the horrours of slaughter and desolation. This house, although at tacked by the whole force of the enemy, was so gallantly defen ded by seven men only, that the invaders despaired of success, and withdrew. The house is still standing : and we w,ere gratifi ed by seeing a hole in the door, cut by these savages, and the marks of their bullets on the walls. When the work of devastation was finished elswhere, the rav- agers set fire to Mr. Williams' buildings ; and conducted him, 68 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. and his remaining family, across the river to the foot of the hills, a mile from the town. This was the place of general rendez vous. Here they were joined by about an hundred more of the inhabitants ; men, women, and children. The assailants had destroyed, burned, killed, or captivated, every thing within their power; and ended the work of desolation, only because there was nothing more to be done. Forty-seven persons fell in the sacking of the town, of whom thirty-eight were inhabitants. The journey of these captives lay over the range of the Green Mountains ; steep, and difficult of access ; encumbered with swamps ; buried in snow, and covered with forests, which in many ¦ places were scarcely penetrable by man. Not a house, beside a weekwam, existed between Deerfield and Canada ; nor an inhab itant, who was not a savage. Their route over these mountains cannot now be exactly traced : but it probably measured not less. than forty or fifty miles.* A journey of more difficulty, distress, and horrour, cannot be imagined, than that of this venerable min ister, before he arrived at Chamblee. He was lame, bound, in sulted, threatened, wearied to anguish, and half starved. The first night, after he left Deerfield, some of the Indians murdered his black servant before his eyes. On the second day, his wife, whom he had been forbidden to assist, was tomahawked by a sav age : and on that, and several succeeding days, seventeen other persons, belonging to his congregation, met with the same fate. Two more perished with hunger. As the enemy marched out of Deerfield, they were pursued, and attacked, by a body of men from Hatfield ; and lost more than forty of their number. When the assailants desisted from their pursuit, it was apparently from the apprehension, that any fur ther attempt would prove fatal to their captivated countrymen. After Mr. Williams arrived in Canada, it is but justice to say, he was generally treated with civility ; and often with humanity. At the end of two years he was redeemed ; and on October 26th, 1706, left Quebec, together with fifty-seven captives: among whom were two of his children. On the 21st of the following * The whole distance was about 230. LETTER II. 69 month they arrived at Boston ; where they were received with the kindness, dictated by the Religion of the Gospel. Soon after his arrival, the inhabitants of Deerfield sent a committee, to soli cit his return. The war still continued : and the town was still exposed to similar ravages. Yet he yielded to their solicitation. Eleven of the remaining years of his life were years'of war. The inhabitants were frequently alarmed and harassed ; and a con siderable number were captivated or slain ; but they never suffer ed, again, a destruction equally comprehensive. The following twelve years he passed in peace ; and died in 1729, in the sixty- sixth year of his age, and the forty-eighth of his ministry. Two of his sons were educated at Harvard College ; and after wards settled in the ministry : one, at Long-meadow ; the other, at Waltham, near Boston. Two more were settled in Deerfield : and all of them were much respected. The family has become numerous ; and is spread through various parts of the country. One of his children, a daughter, seven years old when she was carried into captivity, never returned to his family. Great ef forts were made by the Government, and by individuals, for her redemption : but the savages, who had adopted her as their child, could never be persuaded to give her up. She was afterwards married to a Sachem, by whom she had several children. Some of them are, or were lately, still living ; and were persons of su periour consideration among their countrymen. One of her grand children has been educated at Longmeadow in a respecta ble manner. I have seen this young man. He has a very good countenance, pleasing manners, a good understanding, and appa rently an excellent disposition, with scarcely a trace of the In dian character. He is destined to the employment of a Mission ary.* A small fort in the Southern part of Deerfield escaped the general destruction. It was violently attacked ; but it was also bravely defended. This event was the means of preserving ma ny of the inhabitants, and preventing the town from being de serted. * Mr. Williams is now a Missionary among the Oneidas. — Pub. Vol. II. 10 70 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. To all these evils Deerfield was peculiarly exposed by its situ ation. It was on the frontier ; was thirteen miles from Hatfield, whence alone it could receive effectual assistance; and was built at the foot of a mountain on the East, and at a small distance from a range of hills on the West. From these heights the sav ages saw every thing, which invited, or discouraged, an attack; and in the forests, which covered them, were concealed from de^ tection. Here they were able to make a descent in a moment ; and in a moment to secure themselves from pursuit. The agri culture of the inhabitants was principally carried on in the inter vals lying between these heights, at some distance from the town ; which, peaceful and smiling as they now appear, were often scenes of blood. Here solitary individuals, and little companies, were shot down in the hour of security ; their scalps taken off; or themselves seized, and conveyed to Canada : while the first in telligence of their fate was the sight of their corpses, or tidings of their arrival at Montreal. It ought to be added that the valley of Deerfield river, and the waters of Otter Creek, streams nearly coinciding in their direction, furnished the most safe and conven ient passage for the Indians from Lake Champlain to the New- England settlements in this quarter. The first object, which pre sented itself as their prey in the journey, was Deerfield. With such a combination of circumstances, singularly favourable to sav age invasion, the peculiar sufferings of its inhabitants cease to excite wonder. Deerfield originally included Greenfield, Conway, Shelburne, and a part of Gill. In 1 704, there were in the township 280 in habitants ; and, in 1763, 1,105 : of which 737 belonged to Deer field, and 368 to Greenfield, then a parish. In 1790, there were in Deerfield 181 dwelling-houses; in Green field, 224 ; in Shelburne, 169 ; and in Conway, 306 : in all, 780. The number of inhabitants in Deerfield at this time was 1,330; in Greenfield, 1,498; in Shelburne, 1,183; and in Conway, 2,093: in the whole, 6,204. In 1 800, the number of inhabitants in Dee'r- field was 1,531 ; in Greenfield, 1,254; (a part being then inclu ded in the incorporation of Gill,) in Shelburne, 1,079; in Con- LETTER II. 71 way, 2,013; and in the part of Gill, originally included in Deer field, 144: total, 6,021. Between 1704, and 1763, the number of the inhabitants was doubled in about thirty years ; and from that period to 1 800 in about fifteen. In the former period the progress of population was both prevented, and lessened, by war : in the latter it was extensively derived from immigration. In the year 1810, Deerfield contained - - - 1,570 Greenfield " - - - 1,165 Shelburne " - - - 961 Conway " - - - 1,784 5,480 I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER III. Progress of Vegetation— 'Greenfield— Bernardston— Gill— Battle with the Indian*,, called the Fall Figfc/— Northfield— Attacks of the Indians. Dear Sir, In the interval below Deerfield we passed on the 22d, the first field in which the harvest of maize had been gathered. The day following we saw several others in an interval above Northfield, in the same situation. At Haverhill, on the 28th, we found the inhabitants in the midst of their harvest; and at Lancaster, on the 30th, the harvest was nearly finished. At New-Haven it was scarcely more than half through, on the 20th of the following month. I could not avoid being struck with the wisdom and goodness, of God, conspicuous in these facts. In the opening of the spring, vegetation is earlier on the Sound than in any part of the interiour, situated (unless in some warm soils, and ex posures,) even at no great distance. The maize, particularly, is growing at New-Haven several weeks before it is planted at Lan caster; and, a still longer period, before it is planted on the neigh bouring hills. It has often been said, and I presume with truth, that a traveller might eat the first green peas at St. Mary's in the South-Eastern corner of the United States ; and, proceeding thence by moderate journeys, might also eat the first green peas, daily, throughout the whole distance to Machias, in the North- East corner. It will not be supposed, that absolute exactness is here intended : but that the assertion is true, in a loose and gen eral sense, I have no doubt: the effects of peculiar skill in garden ing, and of favourable and unfavourable exposures, being laid out of the question. From the Sound to the 45th degree of latitude the progress of the vernal vegetation, even when traced through the valleys, is varied in a greater degree than is here supposed; when referred to the mountains, the difference is greater still. From a period in the summer, estimated from the 20th to the 30th of June, the vegetation of the interiour advances upon that LETTER III. 73 of the coast ; and ultimately becomes, with respect to many ve getables, much more forward. This is especially applicable to maize : which, more than any object of agriculture in this coun try, demands the influence of intense heat. The cause of this phenomenon may be thus explained. In the spring, the ocean is warmer than the land. By the breezes from the ocean vegetation is quickened earlier, and advanced faster, on the shore of the Sound, than in the interiour, through March, April, and the principal part of May: the time, however, differ ing materially in different years. In the latter part of May, and the beginning of June, the atmosphere over the land becomes warmer than that over the ocean. By the land breezes then, and even by the sea breezes also, when warmed by blowing some distance over the land, the vegetation of the interiour is regular ly advanced towards that of the shore. By the beginning of June some, by the middle of that month more, and by the middle of July most, of the vegetables of the interiour are equally advan ced with those on the Sound. Then the sea breezes have usually become cooler than those of the land; and, in a comparative view, may be said to check the vegetation on the shore. This process continues through the summer, with an increasing difference in favour of the interiour vegetation. But for this order of things, maize, a plant uncommonly ten der, would in all the Northern parts of this country be frequent ly cut off by the early frosts in autumn ; and the crop rendered so precarious, as to discourage the inhabitants from attempting to produce it. Now, though somewhat more uncertain in the North ern parts of the country, than on the shore, it is yet so safe, as to be a regular object of general cultivation. An inhabitant of New- England cannot need to have the importance of this fact explain ed. When you are informed, that maize is nearly as valuable to this country, as all other kinds of corn united ; and yields a crop much more certain, and much more extensively useful, than any other ; you will, I presume, agree with me in admiring that wis dom and goodness, which has been the theme of these remarks. 74 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. The road from Deerfield to Greenfield was formerly exposed to serious inconveniences. As it crossed the interval between these towns, it was deluged by the river whenever its waters were high ; and was, also, rendered troublesome by a ferry. It now passes directly under Deerfield Mountain. A handsome toll- bridge is here erected over the river, consisting of a single arch; the chord of which is about two hundred feet. Hence winding along the margin of one of the most beautiful and vivid intervals in New-England, and then ascending a slope on the borders of Green River, the road enters Greenfield. This town is princi pally 150111 on a single street, running East and West, parallel with the course of Deerfield River. The houses are generally good : a few of them may be termed handsome. It is said that there is more business, of various kinds, done in this town, than in any other in this County, except Northampton and Springfield. The number of traders, and mechanics, is considerable ; and the town exhibits a general aspect of sprightliness and activity. The principal part of this township is composed of an extensive plain, spreading about twelve miles in length, and four or five in breadth. On the Eastern part of the township runs a succession of eminences, of moderate height, which are a continuation of Deerfield mountain. The soil on, and near these eminences is for some extent light and sandy ; that of the plain is moderately good ; and that along Green River, near the western border, is excellent. Most of this township is divided into farms. The in habitants are united in one Congregation. At the South-East corner of Greenfield is erected a bridge over Connecticut river. It consists of four arches, built on four piers of stone, with a semicylindrical face up the river. The ap pearance of these piers is handsome : but they leave the disagree able impression of weakness and fragility. It is however alleged,, that the ice, in passing the falls and rapids above, is universally broken into small fragments ; and that the bridge can never be in danger. Hitherto it has received no injury. The structure cer tainly reflects honour on the undertakers. Greenfield contained in 1790, 1,498 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,254; and in 1810, 1,165. LETTER III. 75 Bernardston lies immediately North of Greenfield ; and is prin cipally composed of the plain, which constitutes so considerable a part of that township. The soil appears to be moderately good ; and the houses generally Wear the same character. The town ship is universally distributed into farms ; and includes but one congregation. In 1790, it contained 101 houses, and 691,inhabj itants; in 1800, it contained 780 inhabitants ; and, in 1810, 811. In the upper parts of Bernardston the road to Northfield turns directly to the East through the Northern skirts of Gill ; unless I am deceived with respect to its boundaries. This last township is formed of Greenfield, and Bernardston ; and lies immediately. Eastward of both along the border of Connecticut river. As seen from the road on the Eastern side of the river, it is a beautiful tract of land ; consisting of a fine succession of intervals ; soft, easy slopes, ascending from them ; and a chain of hills, immedi ately beyond these, formed with unusual elegance. This town ship was incorporated in 1 793. It includes one congregation ; and, in 1800, contained 700 inhabitants ; and in 1810, 762. In this township was fought, May 17th, 1676, a battle with the Indians, known in this country by the name of the Fall-Fight. After many ravages, committed on the neighbouring towns, a large body of these people had seated themselves along the west ern bank of the river, at and above Miller's Falls. From an ap prehension, that the English had become quiet, the Indians had fallen into a state of security, with which they have rarely been chargeable, when so near to an enemy. Of this fact the English in the neighbouring towns were informed by some of their own people, who had been made prisoners, and fortunately escaped. One hundred and sixty-men, including a company of soldiers from Boston, marched from Springfield, Northampton, Hadley, and Hatfield, to attack them. The Rev. Mr. Atherton, Minister of Hatfield accompanied them: The troops set out from Hatfield in the afternoon ; and while crossing Deerfield river in the night, alarmed an Indian sentinel. The alarm being communicated by him io his countrymen, a number of them went to search at the customary fording place ; but, no traces of an enemy being found, 76 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. concluded, that the noise must have been made by the travelling of the moose through the water in that vicinity. The Indians then lay down again to sleep. In this unguarded situation they were awaked by a firing upon their weekwams. They suppos ed themselves attacked by their ancient enemies, the Mohawks ; and, after perceiving their mistake, were in such a state of sur prise and confusion, as scarcely to attempt any serious resistance. Many were killed outright. Others ran into the river, and were drowned. Others fled to their canoes ; and having forgotten to take their paddles with them, were carried over the falls and destroyed ; while others, who attempted to hide themselves in the neighbour hood, were detected, and slain. The preceding day they had held a great feast, the materials of which were supplied by cat tle pillaged from the English. When Indians feast they eat to surfeiting. They slept heavily, therefore ; and when roused by the alarm, were scarcely in possession of their senses. After the English had retreated, the Indians who survived, having discover ed, that the number of their enemies was but small, and having summoned a body of warriors from the neighbouring tribes, pur sued the invaders. They now greatly out numbered the Enghsh, and followed them almost to Hatfield. The English were unfor tunate in their retreat in having a sickly commander, Captain Turner, and in being ill supplied with ammunition. For ten miles their passage was disputed inch by inch. Thirty-seven of them were killed on the march; and several others, having been separated from the main body by accident, and lost their way, were taken and destroyed. The Indians acknowledged, that they lost three hundred. Captain Holyoke of Springfield merited, and acquired, high reputation for his gallantry, and good conduct, in this enterprise. The Rev. Mr. Atherton was one of those, whom the confusion of the retreat early separated from the main body. Having lost his way, he wandered the night following among the weekwams, undiscovered. The next day, exhausted with hunger, he offered to surrender himself to them as a prison er ; but they declined receiving him. He accosted them, but they would not answer. He walked towards them, and they fled. LETTER III. 77 Upon this he determined to make his way, if possible, to Hatfield by the river-side ; and after wandering several days, and suffer ing excessive hunger, arrived in safety. The Indians prob ably considered him as a sacred person, whom it was unlawful to injure. Their treatment of Mr. Williams was in all probability directed by their French allies. This expedition was the means of discouraging the savages from any farther attempts, of a serious nature, upon the English settlements in their neighbourhood, during the remainder of the war. Indeed, the Indians of this region never appeared, after ward, to make any considerable figure. Northfield is the Northernmost township in this County on the. Eastern bank of Connecticut river. A great part of it is excellent land, particularly several very valuable Intervals on both sides of the river. The town-plot contains, also, a charming collection of rich meadows. The range of Mount Toby, mentioned above, runs along the Eastern part of this township ; and furnishes a plentiful supply of timber, and fuel, for the inhabitants. The town of Northfield is built on a single street, about a mile in length, and running parallel with the river on a very handsome elevation. The town itself is pleasant, and contains a considera ble number of well appearing houses. The scenery around it is composed of rich meadows ; beautiful Intervals : the river, pleas antly winding for several miles ; an extensive collection of hills ; and a magnificent view of distant mountains, particularly on the North- West. There is scarcely a more agreeable ride in New- England than that from Northfield to Brattleborough. Northfield was incorporated in 1673. In 1675, the Indians at tacked this infant settlement, and killed nine of its inhabitants. The rest escaped to a fortified house. The next day, before the news of this disaster had reached him, Captain Beers was sent, with thirty-six men, to carry supplies to the garrison. On their march, they were way-laid, and surprised, by several hundred In dians. They fought gallantly; but twenty of them, with their brave commander, fell. The rest escaped to Hadley. Two days Vol. II. 1 1 78 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. afterwards, Major Treat, arriving with one hundred men, conduct ed the remaining inhabitants to the settlements down the river. For ten years the town was deserted. In 1685, the settlement was begun anew. It was", however, destroyed a second time. In 1713, they returned again ; and since that period were never whol ly broken up ; but they suffered the usual evils of an Indian neigh bourhood until 1763. Northfield includes one congregation. In 1790 it contained 120 houses, and 868 inhabitants. In 1800 the number of inhabitants was 1,047 ; and in 1810, 1,218. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER IV. Hinsdale — Indications of a Volcano in West River Mountain — Defeat of the Indians by Captain Hobbs — Capture of Bridgman's Fort — Account of the captivity of Mrs. Howe ; her sufferings, and return to New-England. Dear Sir, Saturday, September 25th, we left Northfield : and passing through Hinsdale, Chesterfield, and Westmoreland, arrived at Walpole just before evening : thirty-two miles. The road through out a considerable part of the distance was rough and unpleasant. Between Northfield, and Hinsdale, we crossed the Ashuelot, one of the considerable tributary streams of the Connecticut, to be mentioned hereafter. This river in its Western course is the boundary between Massachusetts and New-Hampshire. Hinsdale received its name from Colonel Hinsdale, a principal planter ; who, together, with several other persons, was allured to this spot by the intervals along the Connecticut. It formerly extended over that river : but the part, which lay on the Wes tern side, is now a township of Vermont, named Vernon. Hinsdale consists of a narrow level tract along these rivers, and a collection of hills and mountains, which are a part of the range of Mount Toby. The soil is moderately good ; and the surface, bordering upon the rivers, is pleasant. In a journey, which I took in 1798, 1 visited Hinsdale for the purpose of examining West river mountain, reported many years since to have been in a very humble degree volcanic. A Mr. Butler of this town, to whom we were recommended for informa tion, accompanied us to the spot. The mountain is in the Nor thern limit of the township ; and terminates on the Connecticut in a bold bluff, from eight to nine hundred feet above low-water mark. About one hundred and fifty feet from the summit, we found a pit, sixty or seventy feet deep, dug by the neighbouring inhabit ants, with the hope of finding some species of ore. We had no 80 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. means of descending into it, and were enabled to examine it, only in a very imperfect manner from the surface above. From our guide, and some other persons, whom we found at an inn, we re ceived the following story. Twenty-three years before, the peo ple of the neighbourhood were alarmed by a loud noise, proceed ing from this mountain, and resembling the sound of cannon. A Mr. Barrett, who visited the place, found a hole, forced through the mountain by a blast, evidently as he thought the result of in testine fire. The hole was about six inches in diameter. A pine tree, which stood near it, was in a great measure covered by a black mineral substance, forced violently out of the passage, and consisting chiefly of melted and calcined, iron-ore strongly resem bling the scoriae of a blacksmith's forge. It was forced out in a state partially liquid ; and driven with such violence against the tree, as not to be separated without difficulty. The tree stood several years afterwards ; but was cut down, and carried away, before we visited the place. The same calcined, and vitrified, substances were, however, still adhering to the rocks and earth in several places ; and could not be broken off without a violent ef fort. From the whole appearance it was completely evident, that it was driven against the cliffs in the same liquid state. The cliffs were of the common grey granite of this country ; and exhibited no appearance of having been heated. At a little distance from the pit there was a large pile of calcined and vitrified ore. A quantity of yellow ochre, also, was dug out of the pit ; a part of which, coarse, mixed with other substan ces, and unfit for use, was still lying in the vicinity. Specimens of the ochre, and of the vitrified ore, I brought to the cabinet of Yale College. We saw a little below the pit, two holes ; one circular, the oth er of an irregular figure ; which I at first supposed to have been made by animals. A nearer inspection convinced me, that this was impossible, and that they must have been formed by a blast of air from the bowels of the mountain. Hinsdale was incorporated in 1763, and settled many years be fore. It experienced, often, the sufferings of Indian invasion. In LETTER IV. 81 July 1 746, Colonel Willard of Winchester, a neighbouring town, came with a guard of twenty men to a mill, belonging to Colonel Hinsdale, for the purpose of grinding corn. Our ancestors, like the workmen of Nehemiah, were obliged to hold their weapons in one hand, and their instruments of labour in the other. The guard was scarcely set, when it was fired upon. The fire was re turned with spirit. Colonel Willard gave loud, and repeated or ders to his men to attack the enemy. The savages from this cir cumstance believed their enemies to be numerous : for they fled with such precipitation, that they left behind them, what Indians never leave if they can avoid it, their packs and provisions. On June 1 6th, 1 748, four men were killed, and six captured, as they were crossing from Colonel Hinsdale's to Fort Dummer. Only one escaped. On the 26th of the same month, Captain Hobbs, marching with forty men from Charlestown in New-Hampshire, was followed to Dummerston, within ten or twelve miles above Fort Dummer, by a numerous body of savages. Hobbs, while the company stopped to take their dinner, prudently placed centinels in their rear. A few minutes afterwards, the savages fired upon the scout, while the com pany were eating. Hobbs arranged his men in a moment, and faced the enemy, advancing with the usual Indian celerity. For four hours this little party fought with invincible resolution, and with such success, that their assailants finally fled with precipitation, and with great loss. Three only of the English were killed ; and three wounded. Mr. Taylor, from whose account this history was taken, justly observes, that, if Hobbs' men had been Romans, they would have been crowned with laurel, and their names trans mitted with perpetual honour to succeeding generations. The success of this party was owing particularly to the fact, that they had learned the best method of fighting the Indians, and thus ac quired the proper superiority of civilized over savage men. On the 14th of the following month, of seventeen men, who were crossing from Colonel Hinsdale's to Fort Dummer, all were kil led or made prisoners, except four. 82 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. In 1755, Bridgman's fort, a small work in Vernon was taken by the following stratagem. The men, residing in the fort, (Caleb Howe, Hilkiah Grout, and Benjamin Gaffield,) went into the field to perform their daily labour. Their wives, remaining in the fort, fast ened the gate according to custom : and were to open it, when their husbands and sons, returning, knocked for admission. The men, having finished their work, were returning to the fort, when a par ty of twelve Indians fired upon them. Howe was wounded in the thigh, and fell from the horse, on which he rode with two of his sons. The Indians instantly came up, and scalped him. He was found the next morning, alive, by a party of men from Fort Hins dale, but soon after expired- Grout escaped unhurt. Gaffield, attempting to cross the river, was drowned. The women heard the noise of the firing, but seem not to have suspected the cause. The Indians, having learned by observa tion the mode of gaining admission into the fort, knocked at the gate. It was opened without hesitation: and all within the fort were made prisoners. Mrs. Gaffield had one child ; Mrs. Grout three ; and Mrs. Howe seven; the youngest an infant six months old, the eldest eleven years. Should it seem strange, that these enemies thus learned the signal of admission ; you will remember, that an Indian can conceal himself with inimitable skill, and suc cess, and wait any length of time, to accomplish his purpose. After having plundered the fort, and set it on fire, the Indians conducted their prisoners about a mile and a half into the forest. Here they continued through the next day; but despatched six of their number to complete the work of destruction. The follow ing morning they set out for the place, where they had left their ca-oes about fifteen miles South of Crown Point. The distance was about sixty miles; but, as they were obliged to cross the range of the Green Mountains, it occupied them eight days. The ta dians were desirous to preserve their prisoners .; and in most in stances, therefore, treated them kindly, in their manner. Yet they abused some of them in the customary modes of savage cru- eltv. LETTER IV. 83 After many and severe sufferings, they reached Crown Point, where Mrs. Howe, with several of the prisoners, continued a few days. The rest were conducted by their captors to Montreal, to be sold to the French ; but, no market being found for them, were all brought back, except her youngest daughter, who was given as a present to Governor De Vaudreuil. Soon after the whole body embarked in canoes, just as night was approaching, for St. Johns. A thunder-storm arose in the West. The dark ness, when it was not illumined by lightning, was intense. The wind became a storm ; and the waves, which in this lake have nOt unusually been fatal to vessels of a considerable size, threatened their destruction. But they were not deserted by^ Providence. A little before day-break they landed on the beach : and Mrs. Howe, ignorant of what had become of her children, raised with her hands a pillow of earth, and laid herself down with her infant in her bosom. The next day they arrived at St. Johns, and soon after at St. Francis ; the residence of her captors. A council was called ; the customary ceremonies were gone through ; and Mrs. Howe was delivered to a squaw, whom she was directed henceforth to consider as her mother. The infant was left in her care. At the approach of winter, the squaw, yielding to her earnest solicitations, set out with Mrs. Howe, and her child, for Montreal, to sell them to the French. On the journey both she and her in fant were in danger of perishing from hunger and cold : the lips of the child being at times so benumbed, as to be incapable of imbibing its proper nourishment. After her arrival in the city, she was offered to a French lady; who, seeing the child in her arms, exclaimed, " I will not buy a woman, who has a child to look after." I shall not attempt to describe the feelings with which this rebuff was received by a person, who had no higher ambition than to become a slave. Few of our race have hearts made of such unyielding materials, as not to be broken by long- continued abuse : and Mrs. Howe was not one of this number. Chilled with cold, and pinched with hunger, she saw in the kitch en of this inhospitable house some small pieces of bread, floating 84 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. in a pail, amid other fragments, destined to feed swine : and ea gerly skimmed them for herself. When her Indian mother found that she could not dispose of her, she returned by water to St. Francis, where she soon died of the small pox, which she had caught at Montreal. Speedily after, the Indians commenced their winter hunting. Mrs. Howe was then ordered to return her child to the captors. The babe clung to her bosom : and she was obliged to force it away. They carried it to a place, called " Messiskow," on the borders of the river Missiscoui, near the North end of Lake Champlain upon the Eastern shore. The mother soon followed ; and found it neglected, lean, and almost perishing with hunger. As she pressed its face to her cheek, the eager, half-starved infant bit her with violence. For three nights she was permitted to cherish it in her bosom; but in the day-time she was confined to a neighbouring weekwam, where she was compelled to hear its unceasing cries of distress, without a possi bility of contributing to its relief. The third day the indians car ried her several miles up the lake. The following night she was alarmed by what is usually called the great earthquake, which shook the region around her with violent concussions. Here, also, she was deserted for two nights in an absolute wilderness : and, when her Indian connections returned, was told by them, that two of her children were dead. Very soon after she receiv ed certain information of the death of her infant. Amid the an guish, awakened by these melancholy tidings, she saw a distant volume of smoke ; and was strongly inclined to make her way to the weekwam, from which it ascended. As she entered the door, she met one of the children, reported to be dead ; and to her great consolation found that he was in comfortable circumstan ces. A good-natured Indian soon after informed her, that the other was alive on the opposite side of the lake, at the distance of a few miles only. Upon this information she obtained leave to be absent for a single day ; and, with the necessary directions from her informant, set out for the place. On her way she found her child lean, and hungry ; and proceeded with it to the week wam. A small piece of bread, presented to her by the Indian LETTER IV. 85 family, in which she lived, she had carefully preserved for this un fortunate boy; but, to avoid offending the family, in which he lived, was obliged to distribute it in equal shares to all the chil dren. The little creature had been transported at the sight of his mother ; and, when she announced her departure, fell at her feet, as if he had been dead. Yet she was compelled to leave him ; and satisfied herself, as far as she was able, by commending him to the protection of God. The family in which she lived, passed the following summer at St. Johns. It was composed of the daughter, and son-in-law, of her late mother. The son-in- law went out early in the season on an expedition against the English settlements. At their return, the party had a drinking frolic : their usual festival after excursions of this nature. Drunk enness regularly enhances the bodily strength of a savage, and stimulates his mind to madness. In this situation he will insult, abuse, and not unfrequently murder, his nearest friends. The wife of this man had often been a sufferer by his intemperance. She therefore proposed to Mrs. Howe, that they should withdraw themselves from the weekwam, until the effects of his present in toxication were over. They accordingly withdrew. Mrs. Howe returned first, and found him surly, and ill-natured, because his wife was absent. In the violence of his resentment he took Mrs. Howe, hurried her to St. Johns, and sold her for a trifling sum to a French gentleman, named Saccapee. Upon a little reflection, however, the Indian perceived, that he had made a foolish bargain. In a spirit of furious resentment he threatened to assassinate Mrs. Howe; and declared, that if he could not accomplish his design, he would set fire to the fort. She was therefore carefully secreted, and the fort watchfully guarded, until the violence of his passion was over. When her alarm was ended, she found her situation as happy in the family, as a state of servitude would permit. Her new master and mis tress were kind, liberal, and so indulgent as rarely to refuse any thing, that she requested. In this manner they enabled her fre quently to befriend other English prisoners, who from time to time were brought to St. Johns. Vol. II. 12 96 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Yet even in this humane family she met with new trials. Mon sieur Saccapee, and his son, an officer in the French army, be came at the same time passionately attached to her. This singu lar fact is a forcible proof, that her person, mind, and manners, were unusually agreeable ; for she had been twice married, and the mother of seven children. Nor was her situation less per plexing than singular. The good will of the whole family was indispensable to her comfort, if not to her safety ; and her purity she was determined to preserve at the hazard of her life. In the house, where both her lovers resided, conversed with her every day, and, together with herself were continually under the eye of her mistress ; the lovers a father and a son ; herself a slave ; and one of them her master ; it will be easily believed, that she met with very serious embarrassments in accomplishing her determi nation. In this situation she made known her misfortunes to Colonel Peter Schuyler of Albany, then a prisoner at St. Johns. This gentleman I have already mentioned with honour ; and he Well merits the most respectful, and lasting, remembrance of eve ry inhabitant of New-England, for his watchful attention to the safety of its settlements, and his humane interference in behalf of its captivated inhabitants. As soon as he had learned her situa tion, he represented it to the Governour De Vaudreuil. The Governour immediately ordered young Saccapee into the army ; and enjoined on his father a just, and kind, treatment of Mrs. Howe. His humanity did not stop here. Being informed, that one of her daughters was in danger of being married to an Indian, of St. Francis, he rescued her from this miserable destiny; and placed her in a nunnery with her sister. Here they were both educated as his adopted children. By the good offices of Colonel Schuyler also, who advanced twenty-seven hundred livres for that purpose, and by the assist ance of several other gentlemen, she was enabled to ransom her self, and her four sons. With these children she set out for New England in the autumn of 1758, under the protection of Colone Schuyler; leaving her two daughters behind. As she was cross. ing Lake Champlain, young Saccapee came on board the boat, in LETTER IV. 87 which she was conveyed ; gave her a handsome present ; and bade her adieu. Colonel Schuyler, being obliged to proceed to Albany with more expedition than was convenient for his fellow travellers, left them in the care of Major Putnam, afterwards Ma jor-General Putnam. From this gentleman she received every kind office, which his well-known humanity could furnish ; and arrived without any considerable misfortune at the place of their destination. After the peace of Paris, Mrs. Howe went again to Canada, to bring home her second daughter : the eldest having been taken by Monsieur De Vaudreuil to France, and married in that coun try to a gentleman named Louis. Her sister had become so at tached to the life, customs, and religion of a nunnery, and so alienated from her country, and even from her parent, as to be absolutely deaf both to solicitation, and authority. When she was compelled by the peremptory orders of the Governour to leave the convent, she lamented bitterly her unhappy lot, and re fused consolation. This is one among the many instances of the perseverance, art, and efficacy, with which the Religious in Cana da laboured to make disciples of the children, taken from New- England. Beside all the horrours of war, and captivity, the pa rent in this case was forced to. suffer the additional, and excrucia ting anguish of seeing his children, lost to him in this world, and exposed to every danger of filially losing a better. In this journey Mrs. Howe met with the younger Saccapee ; and found that he had not forgotten his former attachment. That part of Hinsdale, which lies between the mountains, and Connecticut river, is pleasant and romantic. The township in cludes one congregation ; and, in 1 790, contained 522 inhabit ants ; in 1800, 634 ; and, in 1810, 740. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER V. Chesterfield— Westmoreland— Walpole— Colonel Bellows. Dear Sir, Chesterfield lies immediately North of Hinsdale. The town ship is generally composed of hills : one of them mountainous. The soil is good grazing land, distributed into farms. Around a church in the centre there is a hamlet of decent houses. Chesterfield was incorporated in 1752. The number of its in habitants in 1775, was 874 ; in 1790, 1,905 ; in 1800, 2,161 ; and, in 1810, 1,839. They are said to be much divided in their religious opinions, and separated into four or five congregations. These divisions are unhappily, but very commonly, found in new settlements. The planters, coming together more by casualty than by design, bring with them all their former habits of thinking. Their re ligious principles, their views of ecclesiastical discipline, and their scheme of morals, must of course be various. This difference will naturally be increased in some instances, and lessened in oth ers, by the clashing of opposite interests, by individual exertion, and by the occasional influence of party. Those, who are most similar, will naturally unite in little bands; the more strongly op posed because they come frequently into the field of contention, and are thus habitually arrayed against each other. Local caus es, and those contemptible, often edge their animosity, and excite new contentions. Most of them, however, become at length weary of so unprofitable and tedious a mode of life ; of debates, which prevent the existence of good neighbourhood; and of con tentions, which waste their time and money, and preclude every thought of a religious nature, and, assuming more moderation, ei ther sink into general listlessness, or rise to a sober, rational, and respectable character. Westmoreland lies immediately North of Chesterfield ; and was originally called the Great Meadow, from a considerable interval LETTER V. 89 on the opposite side of Connecticut river. It was also often styl ed No. 2 ; being the second in a range of townships, granted on the Connecticut at the same time ; of which Chesterfield was No. 1 : Walpole, No. 3 : and Charlestown, No. 4. This township is less mountainous than Chesterfield ; and along Connecticut river the hills, as seen from the opposite bank,/ are beautiful. The soil is excellent; and, what may hereafter prove a misfortune to the inhabitants, it contains very little land, Which is incapable of cultivation. Few farmers have forecast enough to preserve lands in a forested state. Almost all townships, which, throughout, are of a rich soil, experience ultimately a scarcity of timber, and fuel. The people of Westmoreland will exhibit more than common prudence, if they avoid this evil. At present, their farms and houses give undoubted proofs of prosperous industry. A small village surrounds the church in the centre of this town ship. Westmoreland was incorporated in 1752. The first settlements here, and in the other three townships of this range, were begun several years earlier ; but, being exposed to the ravages of the Indians, were few, and scarcely progressive, until after the con quest of Canada. The early settlers were several times attacked by them, and various mischief was done, but of no great magni tude. In one of their excursions they killed William Phipps, the first husband of Mrs. Howe ; and in another, carried Nehemiah Howe, the father of her second husband, a captive to Canada, where he died. Westmoreland, in 1775, contained 758 inhabitants; in 1790, 2,018; in 1800, 2,066; and in 1810, 1,937. These are formed into one Presbyterian, and two Baptist, congregations. The township began to be settled in earnest in 1774. Walpole is the Northern boundary of Westmoreland ; and was originally called Bellows-town, from Colonel Bellows, its first and principal planter. This gentleman stationed himself here in ear ly life, as a commissary, for that part of the army, which, during the war of 1 755 was posted in this quarter. Under the protection of a small fort, which also bore his name, and with the assistance 90 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. of a few hardy companions, he was enabled to keep his ground through the war. As he was the first planter, a man equally sa gacious and industrious, and furnished by his commissariat with considerable advantages for acquiring property ; he became pos sessed of a large landed estate; and left his family in opulent cii- cumstances. Some of his descendants, particularly his son, Ma-i jor-General Bellows, have been persons of much respectability. The remarkable falls in Connecticut river have taken his name, and will probably convey it down to distant generations. Walpole consists of a level tract along the river, principally composed of two beautiful intervals, (originally the property of Colonel Bellows,) and a lofty hill, a part of the range of Mount Toby : the highest parts of whieh are not less than seven or eight hundred feet above the surface of the river. The soil of this em inence is good grazing ground, and is universally under cultiva tion. The farmers appear generally to be in easy circumstance. The towh of Walpole stands at the foot of this hill on a plain ; the margin of one of these intervals. The principal street runs North and South ; and is bordered on bbth sides by a collection of well appearing houses, stores, and shops. A turnpike road from Boston passes through this village ; and crossing the river at Bellows-Falls, passes over the Green Mountains to Rutland in Vermont; and thence, through Middlebury and Burlington, by Lake Champlain, to Montreal. As this is the principal channel of communication between Boston, and the country on the North- West, the travelling and transportation on it are great. From these circumstances, this village has become the seat of considera ble business. It contains a printing office and a book-store. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER VI. Bellows-Falls — Cavities worn in the rocks by the river — Canal — The first bridge' over Connecticut River erected at this place by Colonel Enoch Hale — Govern- our's Meadow. Dear Sir, Monday, September 25th, we set out for Charlestown, accom panied by Col. Tyler of Guilford in Vermont; who politely offer ed to point out to us whatever was interesting at Bellows-Falls, three miles North of the village of Walpole. These are the falls, so fancifully described by Peters in that collection of extravagan cies, which he has been pleased to style, ': the History of Con necticut." They are certainly an interesting natural curiosity ; although we did not find the water beneath them so hard, as to be impervious to an iron crow. They are formed by four successive rifts, with the same number of rapids; and extend in a straignt line three fourths of a mile ; or, if measured on the circular course of the river, seven eigliths. In this estimate I include that part of the riyer, which, lies between the two ends of the Canal, to be described hereafter. All these rifts run from the foot of the Fall Mountain ; the base of which, at this spot, terminates about forty rods Eastward of the river. The rocks are very hard grey gran ite.- In the Northern and middle rifts there is nothing remarka ble ; but the Southern has long been an object of peculiar atten tion. The waters of the Connecticut, which both above and be low the falls are forty rods in breadth, are here contracted to the narrow compass of twenty feet; and, when the stream is very low, it is said, within that of six. The rapidity of the current may be conjectured from this fact. An inquisitive traveller, while inspecting this ground, will want no argument to convince him, that the river, anciently had its channel about fifty rods, where the distance is greatest, Westward of the place where it now runs. Here a canal is dug in its for mer bed, to facilitate the transportation of boats around these 92 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. falls. The bed of rocks, after crossing the present channel, takes a South- Western direction towards the lower end of the canal. Originally, the bed of the river was from fifteen to twenty feet higher than it is at present ; as is unanswerably evident from the great number of excavations, which it formerly wrought out in the rocks, chiefly on the Western bank, which are now from ten to fifteen feet above the highest present water-mark. The river now, is often fuller than it probably ever was, before the country above was cleared of its forests: the snows in open ground melt ing much more suddenly, and forming much greater freshets, than in forested ground. The river cannot, therefore, have risen to the height of these excavations by having a greater supply of wa ter. Besides, excavations so deep, so large, and wrought in rocks so hard, show with absolute certainty, that the river ran at. this level often, and for a long period : a fact, which no possible sour ces of its waters could have been the means of accomplishing, had it customarily flowed at its present level. These cavities are very numerous, both above and below the bridge. They are, also, of various forms ; from that of a shallow dish to that of an iron pot, that of a barrel; and in one instance, that of an inverted pear ; and of various sizes, from the capacity of a pint bowl to that of perhaps two hogsheads. Their greatest depths we could not accurately estimate ; because those which were deepest, as well as many others, were partially filled with water, gravel, and stones. From these cavities, and others like them, and, generally, from the depredations, made by falls of water upon the rocks, over which they fell, that class of Infidels, who have discernment ex actly fitted to perceive, candour enough to love, and industry suf ficient to point out, petty objections against Revelation, have with no small triumph found, here, in their own opinion, means of disproving the date, assigned to the creation by Moses. An argument, founded, as this is, on arithmetical computation, re- , quires, that the means of computing should be within the reach of him, by whom the argument is adduced. Had these gentle men taken the pains to examine the subject on the spot ; they LETTER VI. 93 would have fouiid, that neither here, nor in any other place of the like nature, are there any possible means of such a computa tion ; and that, therefore, the argument is totally destitute of foundation. The rocks are in some places harder than in others ; the Wafer some years rises oftener, and higher, than in others, and is sometimes more replenished with grit. The gravel and stones exist in greater quantities ; the stories are larger, have sharper angles, and are of a harder consistence. From these facts it is evident, that nothing like regularity can exist in this op eration of nature ; nothing which can present materials for any calculation. The manner, in which these cavities commenced, and how the stones and gravel, by which they are worn, are retained in the same spot before the rock is to a considerable degree hollowed Out, it seems not very easy to determine. The best solution of the difficulty, which I am able to give, is the following. The rocks, although generally of a form approaching towards convex- rry, are in some places flat, and in others in a small degree con cave. There are in all rivers, especially where they are most agitated, innumerable little circular eddies, or whirlpools. Wher- eVCr One of these exists immediately over such a spot, having grav el and stones lying on it, they are driven around in exact con formity to the direction of the water, and are retained in their place by its circular force. In this manner, they grind the rock until they have worn a concavity ; whose figure will ever after wards create a similar whirlpool within its limit's. All the stones and gravel, which we saw in these cavities, had their angles entirely worn off by the attrition. On- one of the rocks, lying in the river below' the bridge, we saw two rude Indian attempts at sculpture. They were very cOarse1 copies of the human face : a circular figure, cut in the rock, serving for the outline; ; two round holes for the eyes ; and an elliptical one for the mouth. For what purpose they were made in this place we were unable to divine. They are not vis ible, except when the water is low. Vol. II. J 3 94 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. I have observed that the bed of the river is lower. than it was formerly. This change has been chiefly accomplished by the washing away of the earth, gravel, and stones, which were of such a size, as to yield to the force of the current. In consequence of this process, the stones and rocks, of a larger size, have gradu ally subsided. Even these, indeed, have been partially worn : but not so as to contribute perceptibly to any alteration in the channel. Where the bed of a river is a stratum of slate, or lime stone ; very great changes often take place, from the attrition of the stream, and the influence of the atmosphere ; but these rocks are of too firm a texture to be greatly affected, by the effi cacy of either. On the Western side of the river a canal was begun, and, in 1 797, about two thirds finished, for the purpose of conveying boati around these falls. Its length is three fourths of a mile ; its breadth at the bottom eighteen feet, at the top sixty ; and its depth twen ty. The expense, at which it is dug, exclusive of the passage through the rocks, mentioned above, is thirty dollars per rod. Through these rocks a way has been blown, with great expense. The whole sum, already laid out, as we were informed, is $45,000. A considerable addition must be made to this, before the works can be completed. In September 1803, October 1806, and May 1810, I visited this spot ;* and in all these instances found the canal answering, in a good degree, the purpose, for which it was made. Boats, of the size formerly mentioned in the account of the South Hadley canal, are safely, and easily, conveyed through it ; as are also rafts of boards and timber. The water is thrown into it by a dam, which crosses the river a little below its upper entrance. The whole number of locks, including a guard lock, is seven ; six of these raise, or lower, the boats seven feet four inches, each; or forty-four feet : the whole descent of the river at this place. In digging the canal the proprietors have availed themselves of the ancient bed of the river ; and thus have saved a prodigious * And since in October 1812, and October 1813. LETTER VI. 95 mass of labour. Indeed, without this advantage the attempt in all probability would not have been made. Two saw-mills, a grist-mill, a paper-mill, and a carding-ma- chine, are built near the lower end of the canal. All these are esteemed valuable property ; as they stand in perfect safety from the ravages of the river, and are furnished with a never failing supply of water. The grist-mill, particularly, is considered as the best, and most profitable, in this part of the country.* It is questionable whether the canal will soon become proportionally profitable to the proprietors ; although it cannot fail to be of con siderable use to the community. These works were projected, and executed, by William Page, Esq. of Charlestown. The capital, as I believe, was chiefly fur nished by Mr. Atkinson ; a merchant in the city of New- York. There is a small hamlet, containing a few houses and stores, on the Western side of the canal, and on the island between that and the river. Just below the principal fall, was built in the year 1785, and in the year 1797 was still standing, the first bridge, which was ever erected over Connecticut river. The builder was Colonel Enoch Hale. When he first formed the design, its practicability was generally denied ; and the undertaker laughed at for seriously proposing so romantic a project. He was not, however, discour aged : but, meeting the common opinion, and the ridicule with which it was expressed, with that firmness, which is indispensa ble to the success of new and difficult efforts, he began, and com pleted, the work in the year 1785. The spot was granted to him for this purpose by the Legislature of New-Hampshire, and the toll established by law. The project has been eminently useful to the public ; but was not very profitable to himself. The want of a good road across the country prevented a great part of that travelling, which has since been produced by the establishment of the turnpike, last mentioned. He was, therefore, obliged to sell his property, without reaping from it that reward, which a generous mind instinctively wishes to ingenuity, and public spirit. *These works were consumed by fire in 181 1. 96 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. How often do the authors of ingenious, and honourable underta kings experience this painful retribution ! Colonel Hale was probably the first man, who seriously real ized the practicability of erecting a bridge over this rjver. What is much more, he was the first man, who proved that it could be done. It is curious to mark the progress of opinion concerning subjects, originally so difficult, as scarcely to become topics of re flection, and yet so interesting, as to be objects of general desire. This river, at Lancaster, one hundred and thirty-three miles. North of this bridge, is thirty rods in breadth, and of consideja,- able depth. The ice, with which it is covered every winter, is. thick, and strong ; and the freshets are at times sudden, and not unfrequently, so great, as to raise its waters from ten to twenty-five feet above their common level, and to spread them in various, places, from half a mile, to a mile and a half, or two miles, in breadth, over the intervals on its borders. Before a bridge had, been actually built over it, therefore, it was a very natural con clusion, that no structure of this kind, which the wealth of the in habitants could conveniently furnish, would be of sufficient strength to sustain the occasional violence of the stream. I have often, heard this subject mentioned in the early periods of my life ; and; always, as a thing, which was indeed extremely desirable, but absolutely impracticable ; an object of ardent wishes, but of no expectations. In such a situation, the man, who with compre hensive views discerning all the difficulties, sees also, the means of surmounting them ; whose energy not only prompts him to adven ture, but invigorates him to overcome ; and whose public spirit quickens him to useful enterprises, from which his heavy minded, and parsimonious, neighbours shrink with.self-gratulation ; begins, and in a sense creates, all the future success of such, generous, efforts ; and deserves a grateful and permanent rememjbrance as, a public benefactor. Doctor Belknap, speaking of this bridge in 1792, says,'"This£ is the only bridge across Connecticut river, but it is in contem plation to erect one thirty-six miles above, at the middle bar of. White river fall." There are now thirteen bridges over this LETTER VI. 97 river.* The commencement of difficult enterprises is usually entered upon very slowly, and reluctantly; their progress is often rapid beyond the most sanguine expectation. Ib the yeaF 1 803, the bridge erected by Colonel Hale, at the expense of twenty-seven hundred dollars, had been taken down; and a new one built, under the direction of Mr. Geyer, a merchant of Boston, and the present proprietor. I was not a little pleased with this structure. It is neat, light, and simple ; and yet pos sesses great strength. Two sets of very long, and very firm, braces, fastened near the ceatre, extend to the rocks on. both sides. of the river ; and leave the passage for the water and the ice, en tirely clear, and the bridge perfectly secure. Its figure is a very obtuse arch. Wherever the ground will admit of this construc tion, it is the best within my knowledge ; and combines neatness and strength with the least possible expense. This bridge is said to be valuable property. A few rods from it, on the Eastern bank, Mr. Geyer has erect ed a large elegant mansion, fronted towards the river, with hand some appendages.t At a small distance from, this house ascends, perpendicularly, the Fall mountain ; a bald, rocky, gloomy pre cipice, rising about six hundred feet above the surface of the riv er. To an eye, surveying this mountain, it sfeems scarcely pos sible, that its torrents, or even its rocks, should not at some time or other intrude, very inconveniently, upon the possessions of thjs gentleman. This mountain is familiarly known by the name of. the Gover- nour's Meadow : an appellation, which it is said to have derived from the following incident. Colonel Bellows applied to Ben- ning Wentworth, Esq. fprmerly Governour of New- Hampshire, to grant him a tract of land in Walpole. The Governour had been informed by Theodore Atkinson, Esq. then Secretary of the Prov ince, that Bellows was a shrewd man, and must be watched with peculiar caution in cases of this nature. With this fact Bellows * The number is since increased to eighteen. 3 There are two good houses on the Western side, belonging to the Hon. William Hall, one of them very handsome. 98 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. had been made acquainted ; and knew perfectly well how to turn it to his advantage. Accordingly, when he came to solicit the grant, he requested, that it might be located in the North-West- ern quarter of the township ; that is, on the summit of this ragged mountain. The Governour had been informed by Mr. Atkin son, that there were very fine meadows, or intervals, in this township ; and took it for granted, that these only would be the objects of an application from so sagacious a suitor. He there fore told Colonel Bellows, that he could not grant him the land in question ; since he understood that it consisted of very valua ble meadows ; but subjoined, that he would permit him to take an equal tract in any other part of the township. Bellows accor dingly yielded to necessity ; and consented to locate his grant agreeably to the Governour's proposal. In this manner, it is said, he became the proprietor, either partially, or wholly, of those beautiful intervals, which have been already described, and which were the very lands, intentionally reserved by the Gover nour for himself. Colonel Bellows, however, earned his fortune very dearly. For a long time he was exposed, without any other defence than a small fort, with a trifling garrison, to the incursions of the Cana dians and savages. During the season of war, every day of his life was a day of hazard ; and every step, which he took out of his fortress, encircled by peril. In 1755, a party of Indians from St. Francis invaded Walpole ; killed two men ; and took possession of the fort. Bellows was abroad. On his return, with twenty men he met fifty of the savages ; fought his way through them ; killed several ; and recovered the fort; without losing a man. This fact may serve as a picture of his life until after the con quest of Canada. These falls, though much less magnificent than those of South- Hadley, have engrossed much more the attention of travellers. To see a river, usually forty rods wide, and at all times deep enough to convey boats, carrying twenty-five tons, run through a channel, twenty feet in breadth, is equally singular and sur prising. The impression, made by this extraordinary fact, is not LETTER VI. 99 a little increased by the surrounding objects. The rapids above and below, the canal, the mills, the stores, and the neighbouring hamlet ; the rocks on both shores, piled together in absolute con fusion, and fantastically worn into such a variety of forms ; the very bridge, on which the traveller stands ; the beautiful house of Mr. Geyer ; and the wild and rugged mountain, hanging over it with its awful precipices ; leave an impression on the mind, which it will be impossible for him to forget in the future periods of life. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER VII. Charlestown— Indian Depredatidhs— Gallant eoHdnct of Captain Phineas Stwens. Dear Sir, Having surveyed the falls, and dined at an inn on the Western side of the canal, we proceeded to Charlestown, nine miles : from Walpole twelve. This is a very pleasant ride. The road is ex cellent. The Fall mountain, ascending immediately on the right, accompanies the road almost to Charlestown. On the left it lies partly on the river, and partly on the border of rich and ele gant intervals. On the West, the prospect is limited by a succes sion of rude hills. This union of soft and rude, of solemn and sprightly, scenery is more interesting than a person, who has not been on the spot, can easily imagine. Charlestown, anciently named No. 4, is bounded on the North byClaremont; on the East by Acworth, and Olmsted; on the South by Walpole ; and on the West by Connecticut river. It was incorporated in 1753. A fort was built here in 1 743 ; de serted in 1745 ; and re-occupied in 1746. Except two short pe riods in the winters of 1746 and 1747, a garrison was continued in it until 1763.* The settlements, however, were few until af ter the last date. The town is built on a plain, pleasantly elevated above a hand some interval, and terminating at the foot of the Fall mountain ; which here recedes towards the North-East, and is no other than a continuation of the range of Mount Toby. The principal street lies parallel with the river ; and is accompanied by another, a little Eastward, which has the same direction. These are met at right angles by two others. The houses are generally neat ; several of them are very good ; and the whole appearance of the town is interesting. The situation is, I think, particularly pleas ant. The verdure is fine ; the orchards are thrifty ; the inter vals, containing 1,750 acres, are rich, and handsome. A rough * It is still standing. LETTER VII. 101 mountain, by the name of Skitchawaug, furnishes with its shaggy sides a good contrast, on the North- West, to the smiling elegance of the scenery below it ; and at the distance of sixteen miles As- chutney ascends in the Northern point with great magnificence. The inhabitants of Charlestown constitute one congregation ; but, as they are scattered in their settlements to the Northern extremity of the township, they have erected two churches ; one in the town ; the other Northward of it about three miles. In the latter, divine service is celebrated, one Sabbath in three, by such of the inhabitants, as cannot conveniently meet in the for mer,* Charlestown, as I have heretofore observed, is a half-shire town. Both the churches, and the court-house, are decent build ings. This town was repeatedly attacked by the Canadians and In dians. In May, 1 746, they assaulted it in considerable numbers, and killed one man ; but were driven off by the spirited behav iour of Major Josiah Willard, at the head of a small party of sol diers. On the 24fh of the same month they ambushed twenty soldiers, as they went out to view the place, where the man was slain ; and fired upon them. At this time the fort was command ed by Captain phineas Stevens ; a partjzan, of great gallantry. Upon the first notice of their danger, he marched to their relief; and found the enemy attempting to cut off their retreat to the fort, An action ensued. The savages killed three of Stevens's men ; took one ; lost five of their own ; and fled. On the 1 9th of June following, as Captain Stevens and Captain Brown, with about fifty men, were going from the fort to the interval, which }ies Westward pf it, their dogs discovered an Indian ambush. Stevens immediately attacked them ; and, after a sharp skirmish, drove them into a swamp, at some distance. He lost one man ; and killed several of the enemy. On the 3d of August these peo ple, after baying assaulted the garrison for several days in vain, killed a map by the name of Phillips ; burned several buildings ; and destroyed a number of cattle. * There are now two Congregations. (1813.) Vol. II. 14 102 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. In the beginning of the winter of 1747 the fort was deserted. The Legislature of Massachusetts Bay, being apprized of the im portance of this and other military posts along Connecticut river, ordered out a number of men, to serve as garrisons, and to scour the country. These men were appropriately called Rangers.5 In March 1747, Captain Stevens came, with a company of thir ty rangers, to this town ; and, finding the fort entire, determined to garrison it. Soon after, it was attacked by a large body of Canadians and savages, under the command of Monsieur Debeli ni, who attempted to set it on fire by kindling the fences and out works, and shooting into it a great number of burning arrows. This mode of assault the enemy continued through two days ; but were completely defeated in their design by the activity, and pru dence, of Stevens. The next morning Debelini demanded a par ley ; and sent an officer into the fort, with a proposition, that the garrison should lay down their arms, and be conveyed to Mon* treal as prisoners of War ; or, as an alternative, that the two com manders should meet, and confer on the subject. To the latter proposal Stevens agreed. Debelini opened the meeting by de claring, that, if Stevens should reject his former proposition, or should kill one of his men, he would storm the fort, and put the whole garrison to death. To this formidable declaration Stevens replied, that it was his duty, and his determination, to defend the fort until he found the Frenchman able to execute his threaten- ings. Debelini then told him to go, and see whether his men would dare to second him. Stevens went back to the fort, and put the question to his men ; who answered with a single voice, that they would fight to the last. This answer he immediately announced to Debelini. The Frenchman had already prepared a wheel carriage, loaded with dry faggots, with which he intended to set fire to the fort. Upon receiving this answer, therefore, he ordered some of his men to kindle the faggots, and push the machine up to the fort ; while the rest renewed the attack. But he found himself unable either to burn the fort, or terrify the gar rison. The assault, however, was continued all that day. Sorely mortified with his ill success, the Frenchman the next morning LETTER VII. 103 proposed a second cessation of arms. It was granted. He then sent in two Indians with a flag ; and offered to withdraw, if Ste vens would sell him some provisions. This Stevens refused to do; but offered him five bushels of corn for every captive, whom Deb elini would promise to send him from Canada ; leaving hostages for the performance of his promise. The Frenchman in a rage ordered his men to fire a few muskets at the fort ; and marched off. In this gallant defence not one of Stevens's men was killed ; and only two were wounded. Sir Charles Knowles, then at Bos ton, was so well pleased with Stevens's conduct, that he sent him an elegant sword. From this gentleman Charlestown took its name. Charlestown in 1775 contained 594 inhabitants ; in 1790,1,098; in 1800, 1,364; and, in 1810, 1,501. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER VIII. Claremont — Cornish — Windsor — Aschutney — Luminous spot oh the mountain — Hartland— Plainfield — Lebanon— Lebanon-Falls. Dear Sir, We were detained on Tuesday, September 26th, by the rain. One of the courts was in session ; and several gentlemen Of the bar lodged at the inn. One of these, Colonel M. a respectable man, informed me, that Colonel Maclain, who, as you may re member, was seized as an agent of the French Government in Canada, hinted to him, a part of his plot some time before Mac- lain was apprehended ; and among other things told him, that, if he wished to have a Colonel's commission under the French Gov ernment, as an actor in this business, it might be easily obtained. On Wednesday, September 27th, we left Charlestown in the morning; and rode through Claremont, and Cornish, in New- Hampshire ; Windsor, and Hartland, in Vermont ; a corner of Plainfield, and the whole breadth of Lebanon, in New-Hamp shire, to Dartmouth College, thirty-six miles. We found the road good. Claremont is a fine, undulating country ; covered with af rich gravelly loam, converted into the best meadows, and pastures. The hills are sloping acclivities, crowned with elegant summits. The township is chiefly distributed into plantations. The houses in many instances are good ; and the indications of prosperity abundant. Claremont is one of the wealthiest towns in this Coun ty ; and in its soil inferiour to very few on the river. When we left Charlestown, we quitted the ground, which was formerly the scene of Indian ravages. All the country above this town in New-Hampshire, and above Brattleborough in Ver mont, was almost an absolute wilderness until after the peace of Paris. An attempt, indeed, was once made to begin a settlement at Newbury ; but the Indians opposing it, it was given up. After that time, the whole region was converted into a fruitful field, with a rapidity, which has rarely been paralleled. LETTER VIII. 105 Claremont was incorporated in 1764 ; and contained, in 1675, 523 inhabitants; in 1790, 1,435; in 1800, 1,889; and in 1810, 2,094. These form two Congregations ; one a Presbyterian ; the other an Episcopal. Of Cornish we saw little. On Sugar river, which runs be tween this township and Claremont, there is a long chain of hand- Some Intervals, lying in one, perhaps in both, of these towns. The road, here, lies along the Connecticut : and the hills ap proach so near to that river, as to shut out the prospect of the in teriour. Since this journey was taken, a decent Episcopal church has been erected here, almost on the bank. The Presbyterian church in Claremont is also handsome. Cornish was incorporated in 1763; and contained, in 1675, 309 inhabitants; in 1790, 982; in 1800, 1,268; and, in 1810, 1,606 : chiefly included in one congregation. We crossed the Connecticut between Cornish and Windsor on a bridge, consisting of two arches, built exactly on the plan of the Haverhill bridge, formerly described. The chord of these arch es is 144 feet ; and the length of the bridge 521. The expense of erecting it was 20,000 dollars. Windsor is a flourishing and beautiful town ; the shire town of the County of Windsor ; and plainly superiour to any other in the state of Vermont, on the Eastern side of the Green Mountains. It is seventeen miles North of Charlestown by the shortest road ; eighteen by that, which we took ; one hundred and sixty-seven from New-Haven ; about one hundred and nine from Boston ; and about one hundred and five from Portsmouth. It is divided by a North and South line into two parishes. The Eastern, only, is the subject of my observations. This parish is naturally divided into three parts : a flat near the river ; a lofty mountain, called Aschutney ; and a collection of hills, filling a principal part of its extent. The flat consists principally of an Interval, extending along the river four and a half miles ; in breadth from one quarter to one half, and three quarters of a mile. The mountain rises at a small distance from the river ; and is separated from it by a plain, which may be con- 106 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. sidered as its base. Above this plain, after ascending a moderate acclivity, lies another : both of them handsome grounds, and the latter finely prospective. On it are built a considerable number of good houses. The great body of the town, however, consists of a single street, parallel with the river ; not far from two miles in length, and lying partly on the lower plain, and partly on the In terval. The houses in Windsor are generally good ; and several of them are built in a handsome style. Very few inland towns in New-England appear with equal advantage. The court-house, which stands on the North-Eastern corner of the upper plain, is an ordinary building : the church, which stands on its declivity, is large and well appearing. Windsor contains a considerable number of stores ; and among others one or two bookstores. Here, also are two printing offices. More mercantile and mechanical business is done here, than in any town on the river, North of Massachusetts ; and it is said to be increasing. On the upper plain the Legislature of Vermont have stationed their state prison. It is a large and well appearing structure, built of grey granite ; furnished abundantly in this neighbourhood, and extremely well fitted for such a purpose. It is very firm: and yet capable of being split into pieces of any shape, and of any size, which can conveniently be employed in building. This work cost, it is said, $ 36,8 13 78 cents ;* and is destined for the reception of persons, guilty of felonies, which are not made capital. The Interval, here, is excellent. The uplands, where they are moist, are well suited to meadow and pasturages ; and where they are dry to the various kinds of grain. Aschutney, it is said, signifies the three Brothers : the name being supposed to indicate the three principal summits of this mountain. As seen in most directions, it is, however, a single conical emi nence, with several inferiour summits, which are also conical. From its whole appearance I was induced to suspect that at some former period it had been volcanic ; and made several enquiries concerning this subject. A respectable inhabitant of Windsor in- * Report of building Committee, in the Washingtonian, Dec. 16, 1810. LETTER VIII. 107 formed me that a Mr. West, one of the first planters, who was living in 1 803, and of a fair reputation, declared to him, that in the early periods of the settlement he saw flame, at several times, and those considerably distant, ascend from the summit of this mountain. Fires are sometimes kindled on mountains by light ning, and sometimes by huntsmen ; and the fires, kindled in either manner, will in some instances continue to burn for several days. It would seem, however, that the fires seen by Mr. West, at least in one instance, cannot have been produced by either of these causes ; for the time was the month of March ; and the snow on the mountain was three feet deep. Clouds usually envelope the summit of Aschutney for some time before a rain ; and rain commonly commences on the moun tain before it descends on the subjacent country. Of both these facts I have been an eye witness. On the 10th of October, 1803, I was riding from Dartmouth College to Charlestown. A strong South wind blew during the whole day. The sky was overcast, and the clouds, flying low, impinged at times against the sides of the mountain and covered its top. In these clouds, at a small distance from the summit, and in such a direction as to make an angle of about 25° with the perpendicular height of the mountain, appeared a luminous spot, from ten o'clock in the morning to four, in the afternoon ; the whole period, during which the mountain was within our view. All this time the clouds wore a misty ap pearance, every where nearly uniform ; and moved with great rapidity. Yet the luminous spot continued in exactly the same position ; and scarcely at all changed its appearace. In a few in stances, the clouds were so thin, that the beams of the sun were faintly but distinctly seen on the side of the mountain. Generally they were intercepted. As the clouds changed their position ev ery moment ; as the sun, during this time, passed over ninety de grees of the heavens ; as, when the spot was first seen, we were perhaps eight or ten miles North, and when it was last seen about the same distance South of the mountain ; I could think of no satisfactory reason, why the position, and appearance of the spot continued unchanged. 108 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. I saw the same phenomenon, October 23d, 1 804, in the neigh bourhood of Taghkannuc. Aschutney is said to have been measured by James Winthrop, Esq. The height, as given by Doctor Morse, is 1732 feet above the surface of the river and 2031 above that of the ocean. The real height, as it has since been geometrically measured by the Rev. Bancroft Fowler, the present minister of Windsor, is 1929 feet above the river. The inhabitants of this town have, from an early period, been greatly divided with regard to their ecclesiastical affairs. So far did these contentions proceed at one time, that they settled two ministers, when they were ill able to support one. Both these, as might have been foreseen, were after a short time removed ; and a greater degree of harmony has sprung from a greater de gree of moderation among the inhabitants. It is ardently to be wished, that christian congregations could more clearly under stand, and more deeply feel, that interesting declaration of St. James, " The fruit of righteousn ess is sown in peace of them that make peace." Fewer families would, I believe, lose the way to heaven by quarrelling about its direction. The scenery in, and about this town has many attractions to the eye of the traveller. The rough bank on the opposite side of the river, the river itself, the luxuriant interval, the plains, the town, the hills, and the magnificent mountain, form a groupe of fine objects, on which no eye, delighted with the beauties of na ture, can fail to rest with peculiar pleasure. Windsor, in 1790, contained 1,542 inhabitants; in 1800, 2,211; and in 1810, 2,757. We dined at Windsor ; and finished our journey in the after noon. The road from Windsor to Dartmouth College passes through the skirt of Hartland ; in which we saw little that was interesting, except a handsome house, and beautiful farm, at a lit tle distance ; and a brook, called Lull's brook, from a person of that name, settled on its border ; which on the right side of the road has cut a channel in the earth, perpendicularly and wildly, forty or fifty feet deep. In the chasm mills are erected, which LETTER. VIII. 109 the stream, a perpetual cascade, turns very briskly. The mills, if I do not misrecollect, are invisible above the common surface. , At a small distance above this brook runs Waterquechee river, which joins the Connecticut at the ferry. About a quarter of a mile before this junction, the Waterquechee, with a stream more than two hundred feet wide, pours down a semicircular ridge of rocks, about forty feet in height. The descent varies sufficiently from perpendicularity, and is so broken as to throw the water in to a great variety of the most romantic and elegant figures. It presents very little of the force and grandeur of a cataract, but all the beauties of a wide-spread and most elegant cascade. I saw it afterwards, when the river was full ; it had then become a mere sheet, and, although a fine object still, the fascination had vanished. Hartland is numerously settled on the hills ; and contained, in 1790, 1,652 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,960; and, in 1810, 2,352. Plainfield exhibits on this road nothing but two or three houses, with little farms around them, and a continued forest through the remaining distance. The settlements lie on the Eastern side of the hills; and were to us invisible. In 1790, it contained 1,024 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,435; and, in 1810, 1,463. In Lebanon there is a considerable number of settlements on the road ; composing a hamlet upon a small plain, bordering the river. At the Northern extremity of this plain, appear, in an ad vantageous point of view, Lebanon falls ; formed by the brow of a hill, which is its boundary. These falls are handsome. The breadth of the river is about two hundred feet ; and the descent, in three fourths of a mile, about thirty feet : twenty of which are occupied by the Southernmost ledge of rocks where the water pours wildly, and romantically, into a deep basin below. After ascending the brow of this hill, we found another plain, extending several miles to the North, of an irregular surface, and beautifully covered with young white pines. Unhappily, a great part of them have been since cut down. There is reason to fear that this noblest of all vegetable productions will be unknown in Vol. II. 15 HO JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. its proper size, and splendour, to the future inhabitants of New- England. Lebanon is the Southernmost town in the County of Grafton ; a County, comprising the whole Northern end of New-Hamp shire, and about one third of the State.* In 1 775, Lebanon con tained 347 inhabitants; in 1790, 1,180; in 1800, 1,574; and, in 1810, 1,808. I am, Sir, yours, &c. * It has since been divided into two Counties. The Northern division is called the County of Coos. — Pub. LETTER IX. Origin of Dartmouth College— Rev. Sampson Occom— Funds of the College— Its number of students and officers — Its course of studies and buildings — Extreme difficulty of educating Indian youth — Dartmouth — Hanover. Dear Sir, Dartmouth College stands on the plain last mentioned, about two miles from its brow, or from Lebanon fall ; sand half a mile East of Connecticut River. It is one hundred and thirty-three miles from Boston, and one hundred and eighty-five from New- Haven. It derived its name from William, Earl of Dartmouth; one of its most considerable benefactors ; and was founded, in the year 1 769, by the vigilant and persevering industry of the Rev. Eleazar Wheelock, D. D. formerly a minister of the third parish of Lebanon in Connecticut. Here, this gentleman had before set up an Academy, intended particularly for missionaries, who were to spread the Gospel among the Western Indians. In this school, several of the Aborigines were fitted to enter upon a Collegiate education, and expectations were extensively formed, that by their assistance their countrymen might be persuaded to embrace Christianity. Several of them were promising youths ; and by the proper trials were found to possess the average share of genius, and to acquire learning, and science, with the same fa cility, as their white companions. Several of them were placed in Colleges ; and received the usual degrees. Almost all of them however, renounced, ultimately, the advantages which they had acquired; and returned to thegrossness of savage life. One of them, a Moheagan, born in the township of Montvilie, advanced so far in knowledge, and behaved so well, that he re ceived from the Presbytery of Suffolk, on Long-Island, a regular ordination. This man was the celebrated Sampson Occom. Soon after, he became a Missionary ; and preached for some time to the Indians. From them, he at length returned ; and began to preach in this country to crowded, and astonished audiences. 112 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Few persons had believed, that an Indian could preach with in telligence, and propriety ; and multitudes regarded the fact with a kind of rapture. I heard Mr. Occom twice. His discourses, though not proofs of superiour talents, were decent; and his ut terance in some degree eloquent. His character at times labour ed under some imputations. Yet there are good reasons to be lieve, that most, if not all, of them were unfounded ; and there is satisfactory evidence, that he was a man of piety. During sever al years (the last of his life,) he lived within the bounds' of the Presbytery of Albany. By a respectable Clergyman, belonging to that body, I have been informed, that he was regularly receiv ed into their number; that he was esteemed by them a good man, and a useful minister ; that he was uncensurable in his life; and that he was lamented, and honoured at his death. Not long after Mr. Occom began to preach, he was sent to England by Dr. Wheelock, in company with a Mr. Whitaker, to solicit benefactions for a College ; to be erected in the wilder ness, and devoted principally to the education of Indian youth. No project could have been more happily devised. The ap pearance of Mr. Occom in England excited very strong sensa tions in the minds of great multitudes ; particularly of the pious and benevolent. Proof was here furnished, that an Indian could maintain so unblamable a life, and acquire such a degree of knowledge, as to be judged worthy of receiving a regular ordina tion; and could preach in such a manner, as to engage the atten tion of an English audience. All doubt on this subject was now dispelled; and the most obstinate unbelief put to silence. Benefactions were solicited, therefore, with a success, which outran the most sanguine expectations. Among the patrons was the King : and the royal example was followed by several per sons of distinction. A large sum of money was collected, and forwarded to America ; where the list of benefactors was consid erably increased. With this money Dr. Wheelock set himself immediately about the design of erecting a College, intended especially for the edu cation of Indians, and of Missionaries to the Indians. Other stu- LETTER IX. 113 dents, however, were to share in the benefits of the Seminary without distinction. The object, which first demanded attention, was the location of the College. Health, the fertility of the sur rounding country, convenient communication with the Indians, the prospect of obtaining English students, and the hope of dona tions from the State, in which the Institution should be fixed, were, all, considerations, which had their share of influence. By these, differently, the attention of the principal was turned suc cessively to Pennsylvania, New- York, and New-Hampshire. At length the township of Hanover, in the last of these Provinces, was pitched upon; as being supposed to combine more advanta ges, than any other place contemplated. Hanover was incorporated in 1761. The College was placed here in 1769. At this time, as you will naturally suppose from the observations, so often made in these letters, the whole of this region was almost a mere wilderness. In the county of Grafton, containing fifty townships, and sufficient land for thirty or forty more, there were, in the year 1775, but 3,945 inhabitants : and probably half of these planted themselves between 1769 and 1775. In the year 1800 there were in the same county 23,093. At the former of these periods Vermont was chiefly a forest. Hanover itself, in 1775, had a population of 434 only. Dr. Wheelock, therefore, looked chiefly, and let me add safely, to the progres sive and rapid settlement of these countries, for the necessary number of English students. Vermont was then regarded as a part of New-Hampshire ; and in customary language was styled the New-Hampshire grants. At this period also, neither of these countries could boast of any seminary, superiour to an ordinary grammar school. The region, in which this College was established, is very healthy, and fertile. Nor was it inconveniently situated for in tercourse with the Indian nations. The inhabitants of Hanover presented to the College 1 ,200 acres of valuable land : and the State endowed it with about 78,000 more, in several successive grants ; of which 1,200 are within the limits of Vermont. These lands may be generally considered as increasing in their value. 114 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. The largest tract, however, containing 42,000 acres, and lying im mediately Northward of the town of Stuart on Connecticut river, and above the forty-fifth degree of North latitude, is to a con siderable extent rough, broken, and incapable of cultivation. Not more than one half of this tract will probably be of any serious importance to the Institution. Other donations, of a moderate amount, have been occasionally made to it by the State. In the year 1770, Dr. Wheelock, whose zeal and perseverance peculiarly qualified him to become, in such circumstances, the founder of such a Seminary, had the satisfaction to see the Col lege commencing its operations under his auspices. At first, the number of students was of course small : but, as was easily fore seen, regularly increased. For a series of years the average has been from one hundred and forty to one hundred and fifty. In the year 1771, at the first Commencement, four, only, received the degree of A. B.* The students are usually about one hundred and fifty in num ber ; and as in the other New-England Colleges, are divided into four classes. The freshmen study the learned Languages, the rudiments of speaking and writing, and the elements of Mathemat ics. The sophomores beside the Languages, and Mathematics, study also Geography, and Logic. The junior sophisters, beside the Languages, are employed in Natural and Moral Philosophy, and Composition. The senior sophisters compose in English and Latin, and study Metaphysics, together with the elements of Nat ural and Political Law. There is in this Institution a Professor of Divinity, a Professor of Mathematics and Natural philosophy, and a Professor, who teaches Medical science and Chemistry. The President is also iProfessor of History. The number of Tutors is small, and variable. Frequently there has been but one. The annual Commencement is held on the fourth Wednesday of Au gust : and is attended by a numerous assembly of gentlemen and ladies, from the surrounding country. The annual revenue of this * The number of Alumni to the year 1816, was 1,190, of whom 992 were living.. The whole number of Alumni who had been ministers of the Gospel was 263, of whom 228 were then living.— Pub. LETTER IX. 115 College, arising from tuition, was in the year 1793 about $ 2,000'; and the rent of its lands near $500 more. By contracts made that year, it was to amount, in 1797, to $ 1,500, and, in 1805, to $2,166*. There are two Vacations in this Institution : one, immediately succeeding the Commencement, and continuing six weeks and two days ; and the other, beginning on the fourth Monday in Feb ruary, and continuing five weeks and five days. The first Collegiate building erected here, stood almost twenty years ; and was then consumed by fire. Another has been since erected, (in 1786,) one hundred and fifty feet long, and fifty feet wide ; of three stories. It is built of wood. The figure is the same, as that at Providence, formerly described, and both are copies of that of Princeton. The public rooms, containing the library, philosophical apparatus, and a number of natural and arti ficial curiosities, are in a projection at the centre. This building has a decent appearance. At a small distance from the College Southward stands a Chapel ; the arched ceiling of which, ascend ing from the four sides, produces the same effect, as the whisper ing gallery in the dome of St. Paul's. A whisper, uttered in one of the angles, with so low a sound as not to be audible six feet from the speaker, is very distinctly heard in the opposite angle. These buildings stand on the Eastern side of a square, surrounded by decent houses, and covered with a lively verdure. The Trus tees of this College fill up their own vacancies. In the act, grant ing the 42,000 acres of land, mentioned above, the Governour and Council of the State, for the time being, are incorporated with, the Trustees for the purpose of acting with them in the manage ment of all the funds, which have been or shall hereafter be, grant ed to the College by the State. The original design of educating Indians, and Missionaries to the Indians, has been frustrated. Two of the natives, only, have been graduated in this Seminary. For three years after it was founded, a small number of Missionaries, and persons destined as candidates for this employment, were sent among the Indians. From that period, it is believed, all efforts of this nature have j1G JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. ceased. You are not to suppose that any blame is to be attached either to Dr. Wheelock, or any others entrusted with this con cern. An Indian student cannot be obtained, ordinarily, without extreme difficulty. What is at least as unfortunate, his habits are in a great measure fixed, before he can be brought to a place of education ; and more resemble those of a deer, or a fox, than those of a civilized youth. In the literal sense, he must be tam ed ; and to tame him is scarcely possible. He may possess the average talents, or even those which are superior. He may learn, (for some of them do learn,) easily, whatever is prescribed to him as a task. Still he is a perfect devotee to idleness and wandering ; impatient of subordination ; hostile to regularity of life ; and en slaved to his gun, and his dog. To ingraft literature and science on such a stock demands a degree of skill, patience and persever ance, not often found in the mind of man. Few employments have been more hopeless than this ; even among those, wliich have been originally considered as desperate ; and no instructor of Indians, since the commencement of Philip's war. except the Mayhews and Brainerds, has had much reason to congratulate himself on the success of his efforts.* As to Missionaries, you will remember, that Dr. Wheelock .be gan his administration in 1770 ; and that the American war com menced in April 1775. This event induced the Indians to take up arms against the Americans ; and thus interrupted all friendly correspondence between us and them. A termination of hostili ties did not take place until the year 1794 when they were finally defeated by General Wayne, and an end put to Indian wars, it is to be hoped, on this side of the Mississippi. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at, that Missions to the natives, should, for a long period, be wholly interrupted. Since this date, the busi ness of Missions has been extensively taken up by other bodies of men ; able in many respects to pursue it with more facility, and with more advantage, also, than the Trustees of a literary In stitution. * Since this was written, Missionaries have been stationed at Brainerd and Elliot among the Cherokees, and Choctaws; and their labours, hitherto, promise to bo successful. — Pub. LETTER IX. 117 Those, who liberally contributed to the establishment of this Seminary, would, were they alive, have the satisfaction of seeing, that although it has not answered the very ends, at which they, perhaps, especially aimed, it has yet been a source of extensive benefit to mankind. The village of Dartmouth contains, perhaps forty houses ; sev eral of which, to our surprise, were ragged and ruinous. In so recent a settlement this was hardly to have been expected. On my return, in October 1803, I attended divine service in the church at this place ; and never, unless in a few instances at Wethersfield, many years since, heard sacred music, which exhib ited so much taste, and skill, as were displayed here. Directly West of the College, at the distance of half a mile, a bridge is built over Connecticut river. It consists principally of a single arch ; the chord of which is two hundred and thirty feet. It is a copy of the arch in the bridge over the Piscataqua ; and, except that, is the longest in New-England. The abutments, on which the arch stands, are of stone, and forty feet square. The whole length of the bridge is three hundred and forty-four feet ; and its breadth thirty-six. The property in it was originally divi ded into two hundred shares of sixty dollars each ; amounting to 12,000 dollars. The expense has somewhat exceeded this sum. Since we were on this ground, this bridge has been carried away. I have been informed, that one of the abutments was un dermined by the river, and gave way ; in consequence of which the bridge fell entire. When we arrived at Dartmouth, we found the inhabitants just recovered from a severe dysentery. Of 520 persons, the whole number in the village, 220 had been sick ; and 22 had died. The township of Hanover, of which we saw only the Western skirt, is said to be generally fertile. It was incorporated in 1761 ; and contained in 1775, 434 inhabitants; in 1790, 1,380; in 1800, 1,912, and in 1810, 2,135. There are two Congregations in this township besides that in the village of Dartmouth. I am, Sir, yours, &c. Vol. II. 16 LETTER X. Lyme — Orford — Piermont — Haverhill. Dear Sir, Thursday, September 28th, we left Dartmouth ; and proceed ed to Haverhill through Lyme, Orford, and Piermont : twenty- eight miles. The road, for a country so newly settled, was good. Of Lyme, the township immediately above Hanover, we saw very little ; as the road passes along the foot of the hills, and very near the river. The journey was, however, pleasant and romantic : the river, bordered in several places by small inter vals, being frequently in sight, and forming a cheerful contrast to the solemnity of the forest. The township of Lyme, which is extensively settled, and well cultivated, is said to be excellent land. A mine has been lately discovered here, which, we were told, yields good steel immedi ately from the ore, or with very little preparation. Lyme was incorporated in 1761 ; and, in 1775, contained 252 inhabitants; in 1790, 816; in 1800, 1,318; and, in 1810, 1,670; all included in one congregation. Orford lies immediately North of Lyme ; and contains a vil lage on the road. It is built on a beautiful plain, bordered by intervals on the West. The hills on both sides of the river, near the centre of the expansion, approach each other, so as to form a kind of neck ; and, with a similar approximation at the two ends, give the whole the appearance of a double amphitheatre, or of the numerical figure 8. The greatest breadth of each division is about a mile and a half; and the length of each between two and three miles. On the Western side of the river, and at the North- ern end of each division, rises a fine, bold bluff: the Southern, named Coney's, the Northern, Sawyer's, mountain. I was in formed, that a gentleman, in the neighbourhood, had measured Coney's mountain, and found the height of it to be four hundred LETTER X. 119 and fifty feet above the surface of the river. Sawyer's mountain is little, if at all, inferiour. Both are very noble objects ; being perpendicular cliffs of grey granite, terminating almost immedi ately on the road. In a part of the country, where precipices are uncommon, the effect, produced by these remarkable promonto ries on the landscape, is exquisite. Orford is chiefly built on a single street, extending between two or three miles along the river. The houses stand all along at moderate distances, and near the centre are built more com pactly. Generally they do not rise above mediocrity : a few are of a better class.* The intervals, particularly in the Southern part of the expansion, are rich. Soap-rock, a soft kind of magne sian stone, free stone, and a grey rock, said to make excellent mill-stones, (granite I presume) are all found in Orford. In this township there are two mountains ; one of which is named Mount Cuba, from a dog which bore that name, and was killed upon it by a bear. The other was named Mount Sunday, from the following fact. Seven men, one of them a Mr. Palmer, went into the Eastern part of the township, and, in the language of the country, were lost; that is, they became wholly uncertain of the course, which they were to pursue, in order to regain their habitations. Palmer insisted, that it lay in a direction, really Eastward, although he believed it to point Westward. His com panions, judging more correctly, determined to take the opposite course. In their progress, they passed over this mountain. The day, on which they ascended it, was the Sabbath ; and the moun tain has, from this circumstance, derived a name, which it will probably retain, so long as the posterity of the English colonists inhabit this country. The six men, returning home, and not find ing Palmer, went again in search of him. In a place, two miles Eastward of the spot where they had left him, they found him engaged in a contest with a bear ; which had attacked him the preceding evening, on his way. As the bear was advancing to wards him, he was fortunate enough to procure a club ; with * In my journey to the Winipiseogee Lake, I found on my return, this village greatly improved, both in the number and in the appearance of its houses. 120 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. which he had been able to defend himself, until he made good his retreat to a neighbouring tree. The bear followed him as he ascended the tree ; but his club enabled him to keep the animal at bay, until his companions came up, and delivered him from the impending destruction. I presume you will wonder at my mentioning these trifling in cidents. I have mentioned them because they are trifles. The names of mountains, rivers, and other distinguished natural ob jects, both here and in England, have often seemed to me strange and inexplicable. The little incidents, which I have mentioned, furnish, I suspect, a probable explanation of this enigmatical sub ject, in a great proportion of cases. Events, sometimes more, and sometimes even less, significant than these, have, I am persuaded, been the origin of a great part of those odd appellations, given to so many of the objects in question. Among the proofs, that this opinion is just, the oddity, and the vulgarity of the appellations, and the speedy oblivion, into which the causes of them have fall en, are, to me, satisfactory. Their oddity proves them to have been derived from incidents, aside from the ordinary course of things : their vulgarity shews them to have been given by per sons in humble life ; and the fact, that the sources from which they have sprung have been so soon forgotten, evinces their in significancy. I have mentioned, heretofore, the origin of the name Mount Lamentation. This was a case of such importance, as to insure the remembrance of it through a considerable period. Those, which I have now mentioned, are of so late a date, as to make it impossible for them to have been already forgotten. From these we may, I think, infer the origin of very many others. As I have never seen the subject explained, and have often known such an explanation wished, I thought you would pardon these remarks. Orford is a pretty settlement. The inhabitants are said to be sober, industrious, and well behaved. The township was incorpo rated in 1761 ; includes one congregation ; and, in the year 1775, contained 222 inhabitants ; in 1790, 540; in 1800, 988; and, in 1810, 1,265. LETTER X. 121 Piermont is a roughs and, generally, unpleasant piece of ground. The soil, also, appears to be lean, and unpromising. From Brad ford, opposite to it, there are seen, however, some rich and hand some lands ; particularly some beautiful intervals, belonging to this township. Piermont was incorporated in 1764. In 1775, the number of inhabitants was 168 ; in 1790, 426 ; in 1800, 670 ; and in 1810, 877 : all included in one congregation. Haverhill lies immediately North of Piermont. This is a well appearing town, built in a manner somewhat scattered, for seve ral miles along the road. The site is a handsome elevation, over looking the adjacent country many miles North and South, and not less than six or seven from East to West. The prospect is charming. The soil is loam, mixed with gravel, and suited to ev ery species of cultivation ; yet, for a reason which I could not dir vine, the apple-trees appeared less thrifty than in the country be low, and than I afterwards found them in the oppsite township of Newbury. In many instances they were decaying, as if with age : yet they were probably of less than thirty years standing. Haverhill is a half-shire town in the County of Grafton ; which begins on the river at the Southern boundary of Lebanon, and extends to the Northern line of the State : more than one hun dred and fifty miles. The court-house is a decent building ; and stands on a pretty square ; which, however, some individual has miserably deformed by building on it a merchant's store, and a stable. On this square there are several neat houses, and a little Northward a handsome church. From the street the ground slopes with unusual elegance to the West; and is succeeded by a chain of intervals. The other half-shire town of this County is Plymouth, about thirty miles Eastward, on the river Pemigewasset ; the longest head branch of the Merrimac. Both towns are remote from the centre of the County. After leaving the principal settlement in Haverhill, the road passes through a low, forested ground ; wet, and unfit for settle ment. It then ascends a yellow pine plain, on which is built a lean-looking village, called Haverhill Upper Street, and inferiour 1 22 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. to any other, which we had hitherto passed. I was unable to ac count for the existence of a settlement on this hopeless soil, until I came to the brow of the plain. Here I discovered a succession of rich intervals, extending along the river several miles, and fur nishing a most inviting field to industrious agriculture. The in habitants of the plain were, I presume, allured to this spot by so tempting an object ; but they must have been sadly disappointed. From the skirts of this settlement we discovered several houses, whose brilliant appearance plainly shewed, that their owners had preoccupied all these fruitful lands, and left the inhabitants of the plain to derive their subsistence from the parsimonious grounds in their neighbourhood. Haverhill was incorporated in the year 1763. The number of its inhabitants, in 1775, was 365; in 1790, 552; in 1800,805; and, in 1810, 1,105, included in one congregation. There is in this township a quarry of free-stone, and a bed of iron ore. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XI. Lower Amonoosuc — Bath — Concord — Girdled trees— Log-houses — Letter of Rev. Mr. Patten — Dangerous state of the roads and bridges in the new settlements — Littleton. Dear Sir, After leaving Haverhill Upper Street, and passing by several neat houses, the road turns to the right, leaves the Connecticut valley, and enters that of the Lower Amonoosuc. On the rising ground, by which these two vallies are separated, we saw the last yellow pines, and, soon after we had left it, the last oaks, in our rout, until we reached the District of Maine. The Lower Amo noosuc rises in the White mountains ; and runs a course of fifty miles. Its waters are every where pure ; its bed clean, being composed of rocks, stones, or gravel ; and its current gentle and rapid by turns, but always sprightly. Its size is that of Farming- ton river ; and its course, taken together, South- Westerly. The valley, in which it flows, was probably once the bed of a lake ; of which the South-Western limit was the rising ground at its foot, which I have mentioned as covered with the last yellow pines in our route. This barrier, over which its superfluous waters for merly descended in their way to the Connecticut, it has gradual ly worn down to its base. The valley of the Amonoosuc is from one quarter to three quarters of a mile in breadth. Its sides generally appear more like banks than hills ; resembling very strongly the brows of ele vated pine plains, heretofore mentioned. There is a beautiful fall in this river about six miles and a half West. of the notch of the White mountains. The descenf is from fifty to sixty feet, cut through a mass of stratified granite ; the sides of which ap pear, as if they had been laid by a mason in a variety of fantasti cal forms ; betraying, however, by their rude and wild aspect, the masterly hand of nature. 124 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. About two miles after the road enters this valley, the scenery is alternately gloomy and cheerful : the river being at times bor dered by intervals, and at times running through rude and solita ry grounds. For a considerable part of this distance it runs at the foot of the hills on the Northern side ; whose cliffs, and woods, overhanging the stream, form with their wild magnificence a fine contrast to the softer scenery by which they are succeeded. From this spot the river, during a progress of fifteen miles, winds with an elegant course through a chain of intervals, parted into rich farms, and, although recently cleared, and deformed in many in stances by log-houses, promising at no great distance of time, both by their fertility and their beauty of surface, to become a resi dence of peace, industry, and prosperity. In the year 1803, I found these settlements greatly improved. The girdled trees, stumps, and log-houses, had in a great measure vanished. In their places good farmers' houses, and, not unfre quently, those which were handsome, had been erected. A vil lage, neatly built, had been formed three or four miles above Hav erhill Upper Street, at a place called the Lower Mills. The num ber of mills had also been considerably increased : and one of them, as I Was informed, yielded the proprietor $1,000 a year. The quantity of boards, and scantling, lying by the side of it, certainly gave' some colour to the story. A traveller does not often find a more delightful ride than this. The road is good ; the soil fertile ; the surface beautiful ; the verdure vivid ; and the river brilliant, pure, and universally sprightly. Over all was diffused an undis turbed serenity ; a pleasant aspect of retirement ; and that sense of solitude, which, without gloom, or melancholy, softens all the emotions of the mind, and awakens the most pleasurable excur sions of the imagination. The township immediately North of Haverhill, is Bath ; which was incorporated in 1769, and, in 1775, contained 144 inhabitants; in 1790, 493; in 1800, 825; and, in 1810, 1,316. Concord, sometimes called New-Concord, lies North-Eastward of Bath. This township was incorporated in 1768, by the name of Gunthwaite. There is another town in this State, of the name LETTER XL 125 ef Concord, lying on the Merrimac : but the inhabitants of Gunth- waite, claiming that they had first applied for the name ~of Con cord, have insisted, and hitherto successfully, on this appellation for their own township. The most beautiful part of Bath, as well as of Concord, lies in this valley. The rest is made up of the hills on its borders. In Concord, as I was informed in 1803, there has been lately discovered an iron mine, said to yield seven ty-five per cent, from the ore, and to be inexhaustible.* In 1775 Concord contained 47 inhabitants ; in 1790, 313; in 1800, 663 ; and in 1810, 1,126. In this township we began to find the bridges, and causeys, made of round sticks, and logs. These are built in the following man ner. Two large logs are laid from one bank to the other : and these are covered by other small logs, laid in contact, transverse ly. The surface, which they present, is slippery, cylindrical, and of course unpleasant. They are also liable to speedy, and un- perceived, decay ; and when they appear still to be sound, some times yield suddenly to the foot, and hazard the lives both of the horse and his rider. When these bridges are once broken, they are frequently left a long time without repair. The inhabitants in the most recent settlements, you will remember, are few, thin ly scattered, and poor ; and are also engrossed by their domestic difficulties. At the same time they are so used to these and other inconveniences, that they feel them very little. Hence the ne cessary repairs are often neglected for a long time. It ought, however, to be by no means forgotten, that these settlers, amidst all their embarrassment, labour, and contribute, for the improve-" tnent of roads and bridges, more in proportion to their means, than perhaps any other people. I have mentioned above girdled trees ; and log-houses. As it will be impossible for you to understand this phraseology without an explanation ; I will give it. When a planter, in this country designs to cultivate a piece of forested ground, his first business, as you will readily conceive, is to get rid of the trees. This is a work of no small labour ; and to fell them is often beyond his * This mine is in Franconia, bordering on Concord. Vol. II. 17 126 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. power. To save himself excessive toil, and inconvenience, there fore, he makes a circular incision with his axe through the bark of the tree. This process is called girdling. All the trees, which are girdled, die ; and thus leave the ground sufficiently open for the purposes of cultivation. Grass, corn, and flax, will grow well where the forests have undergone this process: and the farmer is more expeditiously, as well as with less expense, furnished with food, both for his family and his cattle. Still the process is at tended with many inconveniences. Beside the uncouth, and dis gusting, aspect of fields, left with many dry trees standing, and others blown down, and lying in every direction ; whenever the trees fall, they tear up considerable parcels of ground with their roots ; and, so far as these extend, leave the earth totally bare of its soil. As they are very numerous, and grow every where; these depredations extend over a considerable part of the whole surface ; and very seriously lessen the value of the land. After the trees have begun to fall, they interrupt every process of culti vation ; and render the ground unfit for pasturage. Often also, when they fall, they break down the fences, kill the cattle^ and sometimes destroy human life. In consequence of these disad vantages, the practice of girdling has gone much into disuse, and most of the planters fell the trees universally. Still, there is a sufficient number of girdled trees standing, in many places, to give the new settlements a disagreeable appearance. A log-house is built in the same manner, as the weekwams, which have been constructed in later times by the Indians, and which were mentioned in a former letter, as having been derived from their intercourse with the Colonists. The logs, intended for this purpose, are chosen of one size, and hewn on two oppo site sides. They are then cut down to half the thickness at each end, on one of the hewn sides. After this, they are laid upon each other at right angles, and fastened together with wooden pins so as to form the external walls of the building. In this manner they are carried up to a sufficient height ; and covered with a roof, usually of shingles. The crevices are then stopped with mortar ; and the interiour is finished according to the fancy, and LETTER XL 127 circumstances, of the proprietor ; always, however, in a plain, and usually a coarse and indifferent, manner. On the conven iences, and inconveniences, of these buildings I shall have occa sion to make some remarks hereafter. It will be sufficient to ob serve here, that, although they are often absolutely necessary to the planter, when he first adventures into the forest, yet they are certainly no ornaments to the landscape. By the New-England planters they are intended only to shelter their families, until they can erect better habitations. We crossed the Amonoosuc at a ford. The water was deep ; and the bottom was composed of stones, so large and smooth, as to make the passage difficult and anxious. The river was pro nounced to be low : yet the current was sufficiently rapid to pre vent our horses from that secure command of their feet, which seemed indispensable to our safety. A few years before we took this journey, the Rev. William Patten, of Newport, in attempting to ford this river at the same place, was borne down the stream by the current, forced from his horse, and overturned into the water. A recital of the cir cumstances, and feelings, of a drowning man, given by himself, will probably be a novelty to you, and perhaps to the world ; and cannot fail to interest your curiosity. I will, therefore, give you the history of this adventure, as I have received it from the respectable clergyman, who was the subject of the dis aster. Hartford, May 14th, 1802. " Sir, The event, of which you requested an account from me, took place in the eighteenth year of my age. In the spring of that year I attempted to pass a river, called the Great or Lower, Amonoosuc ; at a fording place, about forty miles Northward of Dartmouth College. The stream is remarkably rapid : and had, the preceding night, been swollen by copious showers of rain, and the dissolution of snow, on the grounds adjacent. A number of persons with whom I was in company, went over in a boat : but some circumstances induced me, and two or three others, to 128 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. attempt to ford the river. About midway of the passage, my horse was turned upon his side ; apparently by the force of the current. Thrown by surprise, and with disadvantage, into the water, it was some time before I could recover a standing. The water then flowed up to my chin. As soon, almost, as I was up on my feet, the current bore me down, and left me struggling for breath. I rose again, with the hope of walking to the shore ; but in vain. The depth of the water being for a moment more fa vourable to my hopes, I made several other attempts ; in the last of which lying on the bottom, with my feet against the rocks, I determined to suffer my head to be buoyed up, till the weight of my body should counteract the force of the current, that in this inclined position I might be enabled to gain the shore. But I was immediately carried from this point, without finding my re sistance of the least avail. After this, as I was in deeper water, and my head down the stream, I attempted for the first time to swim. This exercise, to which I was accustomed, was perfectly easy to me. I rested on the surface of the water without any sen sible difficulty, greatly refreshed by the air ; which I had not freely inspired for fifteen or twenty minutes. I continued to swim without any other object, than to breathe ; but had not proceeded far, before my strength suddenly failed ; and I sunk without a struggle to the bottom. Of such an entire exhaustion of strength I never before had an idea. I could not have moved a finger, to save the world. Arguing, from the distress of being partially deprived of breath, the agony of the moment, when it should be totally excluded, I anticipated this moment with ex treme dread. When I sunk, this impression was fully on my mind, with a certainty, that it could be no longer avoided. After a short time, however, it occurred to me, that it was time to breathe. With this thought, I relaxed that exertion, by which my breath ing was suspended; and, feeling water entering my nostrils, im mediately resumed it; having before experienced the pain of in haling the water, which was much more distressing than to be without breath. Soon after this, my intellectual faculties very rapidly, but perceptibly, declined. I felt a pain in the small of LETTER XL 129 my back ; which, I presume would have been acute, had I been capable of a just sense of it: for I imagined, that a rock, or some other very heavy thing, lay on me. Before this, I was like a per son, under the influence of an overpowering opiate, and yet feel ing every inducement to keep awake: and soon after all con sciousness of my situation, and life, ceased. At the first exercise of returning reason, I supposed myself in the bed, in which I had slept the night before ; and that the night was dark and gloomy. The circumstances of the scene, through which I had been carried, occurred in a lively manner to my ima gination : but I supposed them a dream. To be certain, I resolv ed to arouse myself, but in attempting it was conscious of insupe rable weakness; and then concluded, that, as I should soon awake, I would try no further exertion. As soon as I rested in this hope, I heard a noise, like a person clapping his hands ; and said, " you hurt me." With this recovery of my hearing, my eyesight was restored. I perceived, that I was surrounded by those, with whom I had been in company: some of whom were striking my hands; and some were rubbing my stomach. My feelings, at this time, were greatly distressed. There was but a spark of life in a body of disorder and death : but the hope, with which that spark was connected, spread a smile over the ruins ; and I was very happy. My friends informed me, that I was taken from the water, after I had disappeared about a quarter of an hour, and laid on the shore ; that in bringing me to the shore a small sound was per* ceived from my throat ; but that my breast had not moved with breathing; and that my eyes continued lifeless, till the moment, when I spoke. From the time of my falling into the water till my recovery, nearly an hour must have elapsed. As the struggle was long ; so the distress was great. I can give no better description of it, than to say, that my sensations corresponded with the appearance of the dead. My meaning is ; that the aspect of a deceased per son makes a complicated impression on my mind, very similar to ¦what I then felt; and may be regarded as a very natural symbol of 130 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. the state of my own feelings. But the prospect, and to me the certainty, of immediately appearing before God, the Judge of all, was inexpressibly more affecting than the pains of dying. What I felt, in both respects, cannot be described, it can be known only. by experience. In such a situation, nothing but the power, and the grace of Christ can support the mind : and I determined, when I recovered, to dwell upon his name, if ever I should be called to attend the dying." How far the circumstances of other persons, who have gone through the similar process, resemble those, mentioned in this letter, cannot be ascertained. A Mr. Punderson, of Brookhaven on Long-Island, was drowned, and recovered, in much the same manner ; and gave me an account of the event. Unfortunately I did not commit the story to paper at so early a period, as would have assured me of an exact accordance with his recital ; and can therefore, only say, that as to the physical facts, it differed immaterially from this of Mr. Patten. After we had crossed the Amonoosuc, we rode several miles along the North bank of this river ; and then, turning to the left, began to ascend the mountains of Littleton. Before we left the flat ground, Mr. L's horse, crossing a pole bridge, fell through, and threw his rider. This was the only disagreeable accident, which befel either of us ; and even this was productive of no seri ous consequences. In this part of our journey the settlements were much more recent than those, which we had hitherto seen. The roads were less wrought ; the bridges were less safe ; and all the inconven iences of travelling were both multiplied, and enhanced. The kind of bridges, which we now crossed frequently, I have already described. From the following account you may form a tolerable conception of the roads. Wherever the earth is thickly covered with vegetable mould; (a fact, existing universally, where the forests have not been fre quently burnt;) this substance easily imbibing and long retaining, water, is converted, every wet season, into deep mire : and, where the ground is moist and springy, the effect is not a little in- LETTER XL 131 creased. On the hills of this country rocks and stones abound; particularly on those, which are high. When roads are cut through the forests ; the trees, which have grown near the path, shoot their roots into it, and across it, both on the surface, and beneath. In the former case, a horse is in danger of stumbling by striking his feet against the obstruction : in the latter, he is often still more exposed. When he sinks into a spot of deep and stiff mire, he sometimes steps partly on the root, hidden by the earth ; and is in danger of falling, either by slipping off, or by being disappointed of his expected po sition. At other times, he steps immediately by the side of the root : and when he attempts to take the next step, is ex posed to falling by striking his hoof against it. The roots, also, are branched, often entangle him in their forks, and sometimes between parallel branches, running near to each other. After they have decayed, they break ; and then endanger his falling by the suddenness, with which he goes down into the mire. To all these hazards, except the'last, he is still more exposed by the rocks and stones, which in these miry places often lie beneath the surface. Even on the surface they are an extreme inconvenience to the traveller; and present to him not a small degree of danger, in many parts of a recently settled country. In the roads newly opened , the stumps are still worse. Horses, unused to them, scarcely observe them at all ; because they are almost of the same colour with the surface. Wherever a forest borders on the road ; trees are frequently blown down, and in many instances lie across it for a considerable time. Here the traveller is forced to make his way round them as well as he can. Whenever the wind blows wth violence, he is in no small danger of being crushed by their fall : a fate which has sometimes arrested travellers, in roads corresponding with this description. In addition to all these evils, the causeys, which I have here tofore described, abound, of course, on every miry surface. These, you will recollect, are made of round, smooth poles; and therefore furnish, at the best, a very imperfect footing. Some 132 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. of them are soon displaced; and others broken. The inhabit ants, in the mean time, are so few, so poor, and so much occupi ed in subduing their farms, and in providing sustenance for their families, that it is often a long time, before these bridges are re paired. Such, upon the whole, was the state in which we found them, that they soon became objects of more dread, than any oth er inconvenience attending our journey. We began to ascend the mountains of Littleton in the dusk of the evening. The moment we entered the forests on its side, it became dark. Here all the dangers, mentioned above, assailed us at once. The mire was often so stiff, and so deep, that our horses scarcely struggled through it. The roots also,, the stumps, rocks, stones, and causeys, multiplied upon us in almost every part of our progress : while the darkness was such, as to prevent us from discerning the extent of our danger, and to keep us in a continual state of anxiety and alarm. At times indeed, the moon glimmered doubtfully on our path ; but the forest was so thick, throughout most of the way, as effectually to intercept its light. In this manner we laboured on five miles, before we reached our destined inn. At length, we arrived in safety; but found the inn-keeper absent, and ourselves obliged to take the necessary care of our horses. For this there was no help : and we submit ted to it with the best grace in our power. Mr. L. went to bed supperless, and sick with the head-ache. I consoled myself with a cup of coffee, and a partridge : an entertainment, which I had hardly expected in a house, just built in an almost impenetrable forest, on a high mountain, and in a spot, where the first stroke of the axe was struck scarcely five years before. At that period, as the inn-keeper afterwards informed me, he set out from Andover in the winter, on an ox sled, with his wife and one child, to seek his fortune: i. e. to find a settlement for himself and his family. Providence led him to this place. He was already beginning to live comfortably. When I visited Littleton in 1803, 1 found him in possession of a good house ; a good farm, well cleared, and cul tivated ; and in prosperous circumstances. LETTER XL 133 What motives could induce a man, even as enterprising, and determined, as our host appeared to be, to plant himself in a spot, so desolate and forlorn, with the expectation of living at all, it is not easy to imagine. I found, however, by conversing with him, that those, which appeared to me insuperable difficulties, he laugh ed at as mere trifles. Happy resolution. Were all men as easily deterred from difficult enterprises, as votaries, of pleasure, or even of study ; a great part of the earth would now be a desert. Littleton is almost merely a grazing ground. It was incorpo rated in 1784; and contained, in 1790, 96 inhabitants ; in 1800, 381 ; and, in 1810, 873. I am, Sir, yours, &c. Vol. II. 18 LETTER XII. Public roads— Dalton— Lancaster ; slow progress of its settlement— Climate of this region— Snow storms and prevailing winds singularly affected by the proximity of the White Mountains — Extensive and beautiful landscape. Dear Sir, On Saturday, September 30th, having slept soundly, and awak ed in good spirits, we left Williams' ; and rode through Dalton to Lancaster, fourteen miles, to breakfast. The road, for the first eight miles, is on the same mountainous ground, and embarrass ed with the same disagreeable circumstances. One part of it, extending three quarters of a mile, is so absolutely covered with stones, as to have given rise to a proverbial remark, that in this spot no horse ever set his foot on the ground. The height, and rudeness, of these mountains must prove a se rious obstruction to all travelling for pleasure, from the country below to the country above, unless an easier passage should be found. Roads in a new country are originally laid out to accom modate the first settlers ; and are, in a great measure, mere pas sages from farm to farm. When a township has become general ly settled ; they are usually so far changed, as to suit the conven ience of the inhabitants, considered as a body. The next change is generally made, to promote an easy correspondence with the neighbouring townships. Finally, the country at large, with a late but controlling efficacy, directs the course of all the princi pal roads, so as to suit the general interests of the community. These interests, however, become operative chiefly, if not solely, after considerable advancements are made in wealth and popula tion. Then the most direct courses, and the most feasible grounds, are chosen for general communication. Massachusetts and Con necticut have for some time been diligently employed in forming all the principal roads, throughout their respective jurisdictions in this manner. It will probably be a long time, before the country, through which this part of our journey lay, will be sufficiently wealthy, LETTER XII. 135 and populous, to reach this last stage of improvement. The dif ficulty, which prevents a passage along the Connecticut, is creat ed by the abutment of these mountains, and others opposite to them, on the river. This would undoubtedly make the construc tion of a road, on their steep declivities, expensive, if not imprac ticable. The travelling is insufficient to justify, and the inhabit ants are unable to sustain, any considerable expense. Better ground than that of the present road has, it is said, been found farther Eastward: and there is a distant reason for hoping, that it may hereafter be occupied. Dalton lies partly on the Northern declivity of these mountains, and partly on a long and narrow flat. The former is good graz ing ground : the latter, consisting of both a plain and an interval, is suited to every kind of cultivation. The township is chiefly the property of some gentlemen, resi ding in Providence, and New- York, who are able, and it is said, disposed, to retain their possessions. Hence the population has made a slow progress. Doctor Belknap says, that in 1755, the number of the inhabitants was 50. I suspect this to be a typo graphical error: for by the census of 1790 they were but 14; and by that of 1 800, 62. In 1810, their number was 235. Lancaster and Northumberland in New-Hampshire, and the towns opposite to them in Vermont, compose a tract, long known in New-England by the name of the Upper Coos. Of the meaning of this word I am ignorant. From its application to places, where there are remarkable intervals, and where there are ho other dis tinguishing objects, except a peculiar winding of rivers, it seems probable, that one or other of these must be denoted by the term. Lancaster has, accordingly, been especially designated by this title ; probably because it contains large tracts of such land. This was undoubtedly the reason, why it early engrossed the attention of purchasers, notwithstanding its Northern situation', and its remoteness from every New-England settlement. It was incorporated in 1763. In the year 1 766, a Mr. Page planted himself here on the rich est and most beautiful of these lands ; a large share of which he 136 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. left to his descendants. It cannot be denied, that he merited his valuable possessions by uncommon enterprise, industry, and per severance. A single fact will strongly illustrate this observation. For several years, after he came to this spot, he carried all his bread corn to Charlestown, (one hundred and twenty-four miles,) to be ground. For a considerable time he lived with his family in absolute solitude. There was not a single road in the neigh bouring region. All his communication with the world was either through the wilderness, or down the channel of the Connecticut, and this he was obliged to enter below the fifteen mile falls, and at the distance of twenty miles from his house. When any member of his family was sick; he had neither physician, nor nurse, except what the house itself contained. The settlement of this township, thus begun, was seriously ob structed by two causes : the American war, and the high value, set by the proprietors upon their lands. All these sold their property with reluctance ; and one of them, who owned more than half the township refused to sell at all. Hence there were, in 1787, only five families in Lancaster; beside two or three French families, who resided here transiently. Doctor Belknap, indeed, makes the number of inhabitants, in 1775,60. If this number be correctly stated, it must have partly consisted of indi viduals, who came hither to begin the cultivation of farms, and being discouraged by the war, gave over the design. In 1790 the inhabitants amounted to 161. In 1794, the number of fami lies was 40. In 1 800 there were 440 inhabitants. In 1 803, the number of families was estimated, to me, at 90 ; and in 1810 the number of inhabitants was 717. The principal settlement is formed on a street, lying upon a handsome plain, on the North side of Israel's river, and appropri ately called the street. It is about half a mile in length, wide, straight, and handsome ; and contains nearly one third of the houses in the township. The other settlements are partly on the road along the Connecticut, bqth above and below the street, and partly on the road to Portland. The houses are in some instances neat and good ; in others decent ; and in a few are built of logs. LETTER XII. 137 In the year 1794, the people of Lancaster, raised, and covered, a church of a sufficient size to contain the largest congregation, which will be included within their boundaries for many years to come. At the same time they set tied the Rev. Joseph Willard as their minister. The reasons, which determined them to make these expensive efforts at this early period, were their entire union with respect to both objects, and the danger of being less harmonious at a future time. I am disposed to give them no small credit for the wisdom of this determination ; the liberality with which they carried it into effect ; the harmony with which they settled Mr. Willard ; and the affection, which they exhibit both to him, and to each other. The lands in Lancaster are naturally divided into three classes : the intervals ; the plains ; and the hills. They are all generally rich. A part of the plains, is, however, sandy and light. The in tervals amount to more than sixteen hundred acres. Israel's river, an excellent mill stream, which runs through the middle of this township, has its source in the White Mountains ; is about thirty miles in length ; and furnishes a great number of the best mill seats. So many mills are already erected on it as to give a busy, cheerful appearance to the centre of the town. The climate of Lancaster, and the neighbouring country, is pe culiar, and I think delightful. But one Easterly storm had been known here, before the year 1 803. This was in February 1 802. It began on Saturday, the 1 9th, and continued a week ; covering the whole of New-England, and a large tract of the States West ward and Southward, with the greatest mass of snow, which ever fell at one time within my knowledge. It was four feet deep; and of at least twice the common density. The wind blew with excessive violence ; and threw the snow on open ground into waves, and drifts. The mail stage was four days in coming from New- York to New-Haven : a distance of seventy-six miles : although the passengers carried shovels with them, to make a path in the most difficult places. Some of them were badly frozen : and the whole country, for several weeks, might be said to have its inter course suspended. This storm appears to have been no less se vere at Lancaster, than elsewhere. 138 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Rains and snows, in this region, almost universally come from the Western side of the heavens, and chiefly from the North- West. Snow falls here in a singular manner. A light fleecy shower de scends, frequently, for a 'few minutes in the morning ; when the sky becomes perfectly clear, and the day perfectly fine. In this manner it has been known to fall thirty successive days, and yet to cover the ground scarcely to the depth of six inches. By this gradual accumulation it has sometimes arisen in the forests, to the height of thirty inches : commonly it has not exceeded eighteen. Travelling in the winter, therefore, is here easy and pleasant, and the weather generally delightful. The snow rarely lies permanently at Lancaster, until after the tenth or fifteenth of December ; and generally leaves it about the middle of March.* At this time the earth is usually free from frost. A stick, forced through the snow in the month of Februa ry, enters the earth without difficulty : the snow falling so early as to prevent the frost from penetrating the earth to any depth, and dissolving the little, which had previously existed. Hence the pastures suddenly become green, and cattle are safely turned into them in the middle of April. The time of pasturage is, there fore, as long here, as in Connecticut. In this mnanner that te dious period, styled the breaking up of the frost, is here chiefly prevented : and the warm season is annually lengthened, so far as the purposes of gardening and agriculture are concerned, about a month every year. This advantage is by no means confined to Lancaster, or its neighbourhood. The bounty of Providence has spread it over extensive tracts in the Northern parts of New-England, and over most of those high and cold elevations, which ih countries even farther South, would otherwise furnish too short a summer for safe and successful husbandry. The peculiar state of the weather at Lancaster, so different from that in, other parts of New-England, I attribute to the proximity of the White Mountains. These are so high, that they stop the pro gress of the Easterly winds ; or more probably elevate their course *The winters in New-England had been mild for several years. LETTER XII. 139 into a region of the atmosphere far above the surface; and prevent them from striking the earth, until they arrive at the Green Moun tains on the West. The Westerly winds in the mean time impinging against the White Mountains, twenty-five miles beyond Lancaster, but in regions of the atmosphere considerably elevated, are check ed in their career, just as a wind is stopped, when blowing directly against a building. A person, approaching near the building, per ceives a calm, notwithstanding he is in the course of the blast. In the same manner, these mountains, extending thirty miles from North to South, and rising more than a mile above the common surface, must, it would seem, so effectually check the current of the North- West wind, as to render its progress moderate, and agreeable, for many miles, towards that quarter of the heavens. Whether the cause here assigned, be the real one, or not, the fact is certain ; and gives this region in the pleasantness of its weather a superiority over many others. The salubrity of the climate in Lancaster may be estimated from these facts. In 1795, there were in this township forty fam ilies ; and in 1797, sixty. Within these three years, only one adult, and three children died : a little more than one in three hundred annually.* The scenery of this region is remarkably interesting. To give you just conceptions of its appearance, it will be necessary to present you with a summary geographical description of the country. From the Northern limit of Lancaster to the Northern limit of Bath, a distance of thirty miles in a direct line, and of thirty-five on its own course, the Connecticut runs from the North-East to the South-West. Above Lancaster its direction, exclusive of its windings, is not far from North to South : this town lying on the exterior of the angle. About twenty miles on the Southern part of the former direction the mountains abut upon the river. Eight miles below, the valley begins to open, by the recession of the hills in Dalton ; and, expanding rapidly, becomes about six miles *In the year 1803, this town was visited by the scarlet fever, which carried off several children. 140 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. wide at the street ; and continues of the same breadth about fifteen miles farther. From Lancaster a vast bason, somewhat more than twenty miles in length, and twelve in breadth, opens to the South-East ; bounded on the North by the little Moosehillock, on the South- West by the mountains of Littleton, and on the South- East by the White Mountains. Immediately North of the little Moosehillock opens the valley of the upper Amonoosuc, seven or eight miles in breadth, and more than twenty in length ; spread ing Eastward to the range of the White Mountains. A consider able part of this valley is visible at Lancaster ; and, together with the other two parts of this vast expansion, constitutes a field of view, singular in its form, unrivalled in the nobleness of its boun daries, and furnishing all the beauty and magnificence, of which a landscape is capable. In my first journey, I pronounced this the pleasantest country, which I had seen, North of Deerfield. The settlements were then few ; the cultivated farms scattered, and small ; and the houses generally indifferent, or very poor. Few persons, even among those, who are accustomed to examine prospects with a critical and impartial eye, are able so far to divest themselves of the disagreeable impressions, made by these objects, as to deter mine on the real appearance of a country, in a manner, which will afterwards be deemed just and satisfactory even by them selves. In the year 1 803, 1 found the scenery in this region more in teresting than I had before imagined. The country was more cleared, and cultivated ; the population considerably increased ; the buildings were better, and more numerous ; the outline was more distinctly comprehended, and more pleasingly filled up. In the first view of a new region, the mind, from its absolute want of knowledge concerning every thing within its grasp, finds not a little difficulty in settling upon certain capital points, as stations, from which it may proceed in all its enquiries ; and to which ev ery thing of inferiour importance must be reduced, in order to fix the proportions, and relations, of the subordinate parts, and thus correctly adjust the situation of the whole. In this case, the im- LETTER XII. 141 agination is equally at a loss with the intellect ; and until it has fixed its own stations, drawn its outline, and referred its inferiour images to this scheme, will find all its succeeding efforts to form the perfect picture, for which it labours, vain. The writer will in this case perceive a certain indistinctness spread over his descriptions, unsatisfactory to himself: and the reader will de rive from them impressions, which are imperfect, feeble, and per plexing. The Connecticut valley is a prominent part of this landscape. In its extent it is magnificent : in its form it is beautiful. The River, here thirty rods in breadth, and so deep, as every where to be ferried over, winds round a succession of the richest, and most gracefully formed intervals, in a manner unexampled. There are three peninsulas at Lancaster, of the same beautiful form with the Oxbow at Newbury; and several others in Lunenburgh, and Guildhall. Handsomer, and richer lands, probably do not exist. The hills, which limit this valley on the West, by their happily varied forms, and moderate heights, furnish one interesting varie ty in the picture. The valley of the Amonoosuc is scooped with uncommon beauty : the surface bending with a graceful, in verted arch from the river to the summit of the mountains, by which it is bounded on the North. This range, called the Peaks, presents to the eye, at Lancaster, two conical summits : the hand somest, and most regular, which I have ever met with. The lit tle Moosehillock, which separates this valley from the great ba son, is a magnificent ridge. Its whole length is in full view for twenty miles. Its summits are finely figured, and richly diversi fied. The bason is a vast ellipsis, comprising the townships of Durand and Jefferson, and several other extensive tracts ; and is watered through its whole length by Israel's river. The moun tains of Littleton protrude their bold and lofty promontories into its South- Western border : and the White Mountains bound it upon the South-East with a grandeur indescribable. The present, imperfect state of the settlements in this region will, I am well aware, prevent many persons from forming just views concerning the splendour of its scenery. In so vast an ex- Vol. II. 19 142 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. pansion the eye perceives a prevalence of forest, which it regrets ; and instinctively demands a wider extent of smiling scenes, and a more general establishment of the cheerful haunts of man. This temporary defect, from a long acquaintance with objects of this nature, and a perfect knowledge, from experience, of the rap id progress of cultivation, I easily overlook ; and am, of course, transported in imagination to that period, in which, at a little dis tance, the hills, and plains, and vallies, around me will be stripped of the forests, which now majestically, and even gloomily, over shadow them ; and be measured out into farms, enlivened with all the beauties of cultivation. In the place of the log hut, and the cottage raised but one degree above it, will ascend neat, and even elegant "mansions. Girdled trees, whether standing or fallen, stumps, rough and imperfect enclosures of logs, I consider merely as steps in the progress of improvement. Rocks and stones, now scattered over the half subdued farm, will soon be changed into neat, strong, and durable walls. The slough will be covered with a causey; and the marsh, by draining, be converted into a mead ow. In a word, whatever is rude, broken, and unsightly, on the surface, will, within a moderate period, be levelled, smoothed, and beautified, by the hand of man. Where nature, stripped of her fringe and her foliage, is now naked and deformed, she will suddenly exchange the dishabille ; and be ornamented by culture with her richest attire. The meadow will glow with verdure and sparkle with the enamel of flowers. Flocks and herds will frolic over the pasture ; and fields will wave with harvests of gold. To do justice, therefore, to this and every other landscape in the same stage of settlement ; I mean that, which will perma nently be justice ; all these imperfections must be left out of the account ; and the country exhibited, either as it is in a state of nature, or as it will soon be in a state of complete cultivation. With these views of the subject, I hesitate not to pronounce the region, before me, to be, in many respects, the most interest ing landscape, which I have ever seen. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XIII. Character and Enterprise of Rosebrook. Dear Sir, We left Lancaster October 2d, 1797, at eleven o'clock, with very favourable impressions both of the town, and the inhabit ants. In the family of the Rev. Mr. W. with whom we had lodg ed, we had spent our time in a very agreeable manner; and. had received from them every office of kindness and hospitality. Our road lay through a wilderness, in which, as I have heretofore observed, there were but four houses in forty miles. It was also, throughout a considerable part of the'distance, incumbered with all those disagreeable circumstances, which I have mentioned in the account of Littleton ; but was travelled with the conscious ness of absolute safety from every unwelcome intrusion of man. With the noblest scenery around us, and with the best health and spirits, we pursued our course. We dined at Jefferson, at this time called Dartmouth, and con taining only a single house on the road, built many years since by Colonel Whipple, the proprietor of the township. The house was occupied by two old people ; a man, and his wife ; named Haight. While we were dining here, on fare so bad, that with difficulty we swallowed a little part of it, our meal was embitter ed by the sight of our innkeeper, walking around the room in a singular kind of fit ; perfectly possessed of his senses, but unable to speak, and exhibiting a countenance constricted and ghastly. After dinner we rode to Rosebrook's, where we arrived about sunset. The whole distance was twenty miles. This man, with a spirit of enterprise, industry, and persever ance, which has surmounted obstacles, demanding more patience and firmness, than are in many instances required for the acquisi tion of empire, planted himself in this spot, in the year 1 788. At that time there was but a single house within twenty miles : viz. that where we dined. There are now two others : one within 144 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. seven, the other within thirteen miles, in the valley of the White Mountains ; and the inhabitants of these are his nearest neigh bours. Here he stationed himself in an absolute wilderness ; and was necessitated to look for every thing, which was either to comfort or support life, to those, who lived at least twenty miles from him, and to whom he must make his way without a road. By his industry he has subdued a farm of one hundred and fifty, or two hundred acres ; and built two large barns, the very boards of which he must have transported from a great distance with such expense and difficulty, as the inhabitants of older settlements would think intolerable. He has, however, had the satisfaction, for some time, to see these barns annually filled with the produce of his farm. He is now preparing to erect a saw-mill ; and after that a grist mill ; and, when these are finished, he proposes to build himself a house. Hitherto he has lived in a log-hut ; in which he has en tertained most of the persons, travelling in this road during the last eight years. The number of these is very great ; and but for this single man it is not easy to conceive how the road could have well been travelled at all. The distance between the hous es previously built, is so great, and the region so inhospitable* that travellers would always have been exposed to suffer, and in the cold season to perish, and their horses to starve ; were it not, that they here found the necessary shelter, and supplies. What these hardships and exposures mean you cannot conceive ; and will naturally smile at the assertion, that a log-house can be of so much consequence. We, who passed through this country in the most favourable season, were ready, from our own experi ence, to admit these facts without a question. For the usual in conveniences of a log-house we were prepared; but we found comfortable beds, good food, and excellent fare for our horses ; all furnished with as much good will, as if we had been near friends of the family. Our entertainment would by most English men, and not a small number of Americans, be regarded with dis dain. To us it was not barely comfortable : it was, in the main, pleasant. LETTER XIII. 145 To your mind, which still cherishes the genuine feelings of na ture, a rehearsal of " The short and simple annals of the poor," cannot be disagreeable* During twelve, out of fourteen years, this honest, industrious man laboured on his farm without any le gal title. The proprietor was an inhabitant of New-York ; and sold him the land through the medium of an agent. When he bought it, the agent promised to procure a deed for him speedi ly. Throughout this period he alternately solicited, and was promised, the conveyance, which had been originally engaged. Nor did he resolve, until he had by building and cultivation en- creased the value of his farm twenty fold, to go in person to New-York, and demand a deed of the proprietor himself. The truth is ; he possesses that downright, unsuspecting integrity, which, even in men of superiour understanding often exposes them to imposition, from a confidence honourable to themselves, but, at times, unhappily misplaced. Here, however, the fact was otherwise : for the proprietor readily executed the convey ance, according to the terms of the original bargain. In my jour ney of 1803, I found Rosebrook in possession of a large, well- built farmer's house, mills, and various other conveniences; and could not help feeling a very sensible pleasure at finding his in dustry, patience, and integrity, thus rewarded. The land, on which Rosebrook lives, is part of a tract in New- Hampshire, granted to two men ; one named Nash, the other Sawyer ; for discovering the Notch of the White Mountains. This pass, the only one, by which the inhabitants of a large ex tent of country, North- Westward of these mountains, can with out a great circuit, make their way to the Eastern shore, was knoWh to the savages ; who used to conduct their prisoners, taken on the coast, through this gap into Canada. By the peo^ pie of New-Hampshire it was either unknown, or had been for gotten. Nash discovered it ; but Sawyer persuaded Nash to adt mit him to an equal share of the benefits, resulting from the dis covery. It was, however, of little advantage to either. They were both hunters ; and, with the usual thoughtlessness of men devoted to that employment, squandered the property soon after it was granted. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XIV. Notch of the White Mountains— Head waters of the Amonoosuc and the Saco— Ap pearance of an American Forest when affected by Erost— Magnificent appearance of the White Mountains. Dear Sir, On the morning of Tuesday, October 3d, we pursued our jour ney. For some time before we set out, the wind blew with great strength from the North- West ; in this region the ordinary har binger of rain. The clouds, rapidly descending, embosomed the mountains almost to their base. The sky suddenly became dark; the clouds were tossed in wild and fantastical forms ; and poured down the deep channels between the mountains with a torrent like violence : and the whole heavens were overspread with a more gloomy and forbidding aspect than I had ever before seen. The scenery in the Notch of the White Mountains, commencing at the distance of five miles from Rosebrook's, was one of the principal objects, which had allured us into this region. A gen tleman from Lancaster, perfectly acquainted with this part of the country, had joined us at Rosebrook's ; and proposed to be our companion, and guide, through this day's journey, and to give us all the necessary information concerning the objects, of which we were in quest. If we stayed at Rosebrook's, we should lose his company, and information. If we proceeded on our journey, as the weather was, we should lose our prospects : many of the ob jects being at such a season invisible, and others, seen with the greatest disadvantage. Happily for us, our storm vanished as suddenly, as it came on. The wind ceased almost in a moment. The clouds began to rise, and separate : and we commenced our journey in the best spirits. From Rosebrook's, our road lay for about two miles along the Amonoosuc, on an interval. We then began to ascend an easy slope, which is tke base of these mountains. After proceeding along the slope two miles farther, we crossed a small brook ; one LETTER XIV. 147 of the head waters of the Amonoosuc ; and within the distance of a furlong, we crossed another, which is the head water of the Sa- co. The latter stream, turning to the East, speedily enters a pond, about thirty rods in diameter, lying at a small distance on the Northern side of the road ; and, thence crossing the road again, and winding along the margin of a meadow, formed by a beaver dam, enters the Notch. The North-Eastern cluster of mountains begins to ascend from the pond. The diameter of the meadow is about a furlong. The beaver dam was erected just below the Notch, in a place, happily selected for this purpose. The mountains were scarcely visible at all until we came upon them. The weather had now become perfectly fine. The clouds, as suming a fleecy aspect, rose to a great height, and floated in a thin dispersion. The wind was a mere zephyr; and the sky ex hibited the clear and beautiful blue of autumn. The Notch of the White Mountains is a phrase, appropriated to a very narrow defile, extending two miles in length between two huge cliffs, apparently rent asunder by some vast convulsion of nature. This convulsion was, in my own view, unquestionably that of the deluge. There are here, and throughout New-England, no eminent proofs of volcanic violence ; nor any strong exhibi tions of the power of earthquakes. Nor has history recorded any earthquake, or volcano, in other countries, of sufficient efficacy to produce the phenomena of this place. The objects rent asunder are too great : the ruin is too vast, and too complete, to have been accomplished by these agents. The change appears to have been effectuated, when the surface of the earth extensively sub sided ; when countries, and continents, assumed a new face ; and a general commotion of the elements produced the disruption of some mountains, and merged others beneath the common level of desolation. Nothing, less than this, will account for the sunder ing of a long range of great rocks ; or rather, of vast mountains ; or for the existing evidences of the immense force, by which the rupture was effected. 148 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. / The entrance of the chasm is formed by two rocks, standing perpendicularly at the distance of twenty-two feet from each oth er: one about twenty feet in height, the other about twelve. Half of the space is occupied by the brook, mentioned as the head stream of the Saco ; the other half by the road. The stream is lost, and invisible, beneath a mass of fragments, partly blown out of the road, and partly thrown down by some great convul sion. When we entered the Notch we were struck with the wild and solemn appearance of every thing before us. The scale, on which all the objects in view were formed, was the scale of grandeur on ly. The rocks, rude and ragged in a manner rarely paralleled, were fashioned, and piled on each other, by a hand, operating only in the boldest and most irregular manner. As we advanced, these appearances increased rapidly. Huge masses of granite, of every abrupt form, and hoary with a moss which seemed the pro duct of ages, recalling to the mind the " Saxum vetustum" of Virgil, speedily rose to a mountainous height. Before us, the view widened fast to the South-East. Behind us, it closed almost instantaneously ; and presented nothing to the eye, but an im passible barrier of mountains. About half a mile from the entrance of the chasm, we saw in full view the most beautiful cascade, perhaps, in the world. It issued from a mountain on the right, about eight hundred feet above the subjacent valley, and at the distance of about two miles from us. The stream ran over a series of rocks, almost perpendicular, with a course so little broken, as to preserve the appearance of an uniform current, and yet so far disturbed, as to be perfectly white. The sun shone with the clearest splendour from a station in the heavens, the most advantageous to our pros pect; and the cascade glittered down the vast steep, like a stream of burnished silver. At the distance of three quarters of a mile from the entrance, we passed a brook, known in this region by the name of the. Flume ; from the strong resemblance to that object, exhibited by the channel, which it has worn for a considerable length in a bed LETTER XIV. I49 of rocks : the sides being perpendicular to the bottom. This el egant piece of water we determined to examine further ; and, alighting from our horses, walked up the acclivity, perhaps a fur long. The stream fell from a height of 240 or 250 feet over three precipices : the second receding a small distance from the front of the first, and the third from that of the second. Down the first and second, it fell in a single current ; and down the third in three, which united their streams at the bottom in a fine ba sin, formed by the hand of nature in the rocks, immediately be neath us. It is impossible for a brook of this size to be modelled into more diversified, or more delightful, forms ; or for a cas cade to descend over precipices, more happily fitted to finish its beauty. The cliffs, together with a level at their foot, furnished a considerable opening, surrounded by the forest. The sun beams, penetrating through the trees, painted here a great varie ty of fine images of light, and edged an equally numerous, and di versified, collection of shadows ; both dancing on the waters, and alternately silvering and obscuring their course. Purer water was never seen. Exclusively of its murmurs, the world around us was solemn and silent. Every thing assumed the character of enchantment ; and, had I been educated in the Grecian mytholo gy, I should scarcely have been surprised to find an assemblage of Dryads, Naiads, and Oreades, sporting on the little plain below our feet. The purity of this, water was discernible, not only by its limpid appearance, and its taste, but from several other cir cumstances. Its course is wholly over hard granite : and the rocks and the stones in its bed, and at its side, instead of being covered with adventitious substances, were washed perfectly clean ; and by their neat appearance added not a little to the beauty of the scenery. Young Mr. Rosebrook informed us, on our return to his father's house, that he had followed this stream up the mountain a mile and a half, without any appearance of approaching near to its source. At the road, although the season was dry, it was of suffi cient size to turn an overshot mill. Vol. II. 20 150 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. From this spot the mountains speedily began to open with in creased majesty ; and in several instances rose to a perpendicular height, little less than a mile. The bosom of both ranges was overspread, in all the inferiour regions, by a mixture of evergreens with trees, whose leaves are deciduous. The annual foliage had been already changed by the frost. Of the effects of this change it is, perhaps, impossible for an inhabitant of Great Britain, as I have been assured by several foreigners, to form an adequate conception, without visiting an American forest. When I was a youth, I remarked, that Thompson had entirely omitted, in his Seasons, this fine part of autumnal imagery. Upon enquiring of an English gentleman, the probable cause of the omission, he informed me, that no such scenery existed in Great Brit ain. In this country it is often among the most splendid beau ties of nature. All the leaves of trees, which are not evergreens, are by the first severe frost changed from their verdure towards the perfection of that colour, which they are capable of ultimately assuming, through yellow, orange, and red, to a pretty deep brown. As the frost affects different trees, and the different leaves of the same tree, in very different degrees ; a vast multitude of tinctures are commonly found on those of a single tree, and always on those of a grove, or forest. These colours, also, in all their varieties are generally full ; and in many instances are among the most ex quisite, which are found in the regions of nature. Different sorts of trees are susceptible of different degrees of this beauty. Among them the maple is preeminently distinguished by the prodigious varieties, the finished beauty, and the intense lustre, of its hues ; varying through all the dyes, between a rich green and the most perfect crimson ; or more definitely, the red of the prismatic im age. There is however, a sensible difference in the beauty of this appearance of nature, in different parts of the country, even where the forest trees are the same. I have seen no tract, where its splendour was so highly finished, as in the region, which surrounds Lancaster for a distance of thirty miles. The colours are more varied, and more intense : and the numerous evergreens furnish, in their deep hues, the best ground work of the picture. LETTER XIV. 151 1 have remarked that the annual foliage on these mountains had been already changed by the frost. Of course, the darkness of the evergreens was finely illumined by the brilliant yellow of the birch, the beech, and the cherry, and the more brilliant orange, and crimson of the maple. The effect of this universal diffusion of gay and splendid light was to render the preponderating deep green more solemn. The mind encircled by this scenery, irresisti bly remembered, that the light was the light of decay ; autumnal and melancholy. The dark was the gloom of evening, approxi mating to night. Over the whole, the azure of the sky cast a deep, misty blue ; blending, toward the summits, every other hue ; and predominating over all. As the eye ascended these steeps, the light decayed, and gradu ally ceased. On the inferior summits, rose crowns of conical firs, and spruces. On the superior eminences, the trees, growing less and less, yielded to the chilling atmosphere ; and marked the lim it of forest vegetation. Above, the surface was covered with a mass of shrubs ; terminating, at a still higher elevation, in a shroud of dark coloured moss. As we passed onward through this singular valley, occasional tor rents, formed by the rains, and dissolving snows, at the close of winter, had left behind them, in many places, perpetual monu ments of their progress in perpendicular, narrow, and irregular paths, of immense length ; where they had washed the precipices naked, and white, from the summit of the mountain to the base. Wide and deep Chasms, also, at times met the eye, both on the summits and the sides : and strongly impressed the imagina tion with the thought, that a hand, of immeasurable power, had rent asunder the solid rocks, and tumbled them into the subjacent valley. Over all, hoary cliffs, rising with proud supremacy, frown ed awfully on the world below, and finished the landscape. By our side the Saco was alternately visible and lost ; and in creased, almost at every step, by the junction of tributary streams. Its course was a perpetual cascade ; and with its sprightly mur murs furnished the only contrast to the majestic scenery around us. 152 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Two miles from the entrance, we came to a farm, belonging to a man of the name of Davies; on the first spot, where the moun tains recede sufficiently to allow of a settlement. Here the Notch of the White Mountains terminates. The first quarter of a mile is a mere chasm between ruptured cliffs. The remainder is a vast ravine. Throughout the whole of this distance the road descends rapidly ; (as it does indeed, but with less rapidity) to Conway ; twenty-five miles. When we entered upon this farm in 1803, a fire, which not long before had been kindled in its skirts, had spread over an extensive region of the mountains on the North- East ; and consumed all the vegetation, and most of the soil, which was chiefly vegetable mould, in its progress. The whole tract, from the base to the summit, was alternately white, and dap pled ; while the melancholy remains of half burnt trees, which hung here and there on the sides of the immense steeps, finished the picture of barrenness and death. At the South-Eastern extremity of this farm, we had a new, and very interesting, retrospect of these mountains. Widest asunder where we stood, they gradually drew nearer, until they closed in the North- West ; exhibiting in the most lively manner the ap pearance of an avenue, formed by mountains of vast height, and extending more than two miles in length. At the head of this avenue rose a pointed summit, white with naked rocks, and over looking every other. The Saco was already swollen to a mill stream ; and both itself, and its tributary cascades, enlivened our journey with their murmurs. When we had rode six miles farther, we came to another farm, occupied by a man whose name was Crawford. Here the moun tains assumed the form of an immense amphitheatre ; elliptical in its figure ; from twelve to fifteen miles in length ; from two to four in breadth; and crowned with summits of vast height, and amazing grandeur. Compared with this scene, all human works of this nature ; that of Titus particularly, so slendidly described by Gibbon, are diminished into toys and gewgaws. Here more millions could sit, than hundreds there ; every one of whom might look down with a full view on the valley beneath. LETTER XIV. I53 The South-Eeastern extremity of this farm was in the year 1782, the scene of a very melancholy event. A young woman, who had been employed at Jefferson in the service of Colonel Whipple, had fallen deeply in love with a young man, in the ser vice of the same gentleman. At the close of autumn they agreed to go together to Portsmouth. On some occasion or other, she was induced, before the time fixed for their departure, to go over to Lancaster. When she returned, she found him unexpectedly gone ; and determined to follow him. December was already far advanced ; and the snow had fallen to some depth. There was not a house between Colonel Whipple's and Bartlett ; a distance of thirty miles ; and only a horse road. The family laboured to dissuade her from the journey : but she persisted in her design, and set out on foot and alone. She reached this place with ex treme difficulty ; twenty-three miles from the house which she had left; and here, as it would seem, finding her strength fail, wrapped herself in her long cloak ; lay down under a bush, whose branches, covered with a heavy weight of snow, were expanded like the leaf of a table; fell asleep; and died. She was found, stiffened with frost, about a month afterward by some persons, who went out to search for her ; and was buried. From this place the mountains continually receded, and dimin ished their height, until we came to Bartlett ; the first settlement in the valley, and the first spot, where it is wide enough to admit of a settlement. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XV. Bartlett— Politician — Conway. Dear Sir, Bartlett derived its name from his Excellency Josiah Bart lett, some years since President of this State. The township con tains 12,000 acres, lying on both sides of the Saco; and is the extreme limit of the county of Grafton in this quarter. The lands capable of cultivation are a long narrow strip : those on the South- Western side indifferent : those on the North-Eastern are said to be better. The settlement is composed of farms, and or dinary buildings, exhibiting no near prospect of considerable im provement. In the year 1790, the township contained 248 inhabitants; in 1800, 548 ; and in 1810, 436. Our innkeeper had a good house ; and appeared to be thriving. While we were at this house, we were privileged with the company of a man, from whose character, if they could realize and apply it, the plain inhabitants of every country, under a republi can government, might derive some useful instruction. We were scarcely seated, when he thrust himself into the room ; and with out any preface began a conversation on politics, which he ad dressed principally to me. At this time, the depredations of France on our commerce had become extensive, and outrageous. The Government had very lately adopted a series of measures, which strongly indicated an approaching war. Our companion made several enquiries relative to this subject, as if he wished for information. I answered, that both Congress and the Country would probably resist these aggressions with firmness, and effect. He then told me, he hoped, and presumed, that the Government would adopt measures of a very different nature ; that France was the greatest power upon earth ; that the French nation was the most respectable of all nations ; that all others must finally submit to their dominion ; and that America might as well yield LETTER XV. I55 first, as last ; since she must undoubtedly yield in the end. When I ventured to question the soundness of these assertions, he roundly replied that they were certain truths ; that the French fought better, managed their political affairs better, and wrote better, than the inhabitants of any other country. Ill as I had succeeded before, I summoned sufficient resolution to question even these assertions, oracularly as they were delivered ; and to deny, particularly, this superiority of French writers. My an tagonist, however, settled the point, in a moment, by declaring decisively, that the French writers, and particularly General Dumourier, left all others behind them. . Recollecting himself however, he subjoined, that he thought one exception ought to be made. Mr. Thomas Paine, he must acknowledge, on all the sub jects, discussed by him, wrote with skill and talents unrivalled by any other man. Mr. Paine, however, had never written on sub jects of a military nature : and it was therefore impossible to de termine whether he could handle these subjects better than Du mourier: but, so far as he had proceeded hitherto, Mr. Paine was undoubtedly the best writer in the world. You will easily believe, that I willingly dropped this conversa tion at the entrance of our dinner. When we left the house, to proceed on our journey, he follow ed us. The servant, who should have bridled our horses, was missing : and we were obliged to perform that office for ourselves. Upon this, our companion, assuming an air of dignity, began a dissertation on the negligence, and inattention, of innkeepers' ser vants. In all his travels, he observed, he had found no inconven ience so constant, and so great, as this. Every where it was the standing character of servants to avoid the performance of their duty ; and to fail of attending to travellers, or their horses. Of ten had he met with this scandalous neglect during his own trav els ; and been obliged, as we now were, to perform such menial offices for himself. With the history of this personage I afterwards became accident ally acquainted ; and I will give it to you succinctly. He was born in a small village, in Massachusetts ; and was educated in a plain 156 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. farmer's family, and a parochial school. When he had grown to the? size of a man, he enlisted himself in a corps of the American re cruits, as a fifer; and marched with them to Elizabethtown in New- Jersey. Here his military career ended ; and he came back to his native village with a whole skin. His next excursion was to a town' in this neighbourhood ; where he professedly addicted himself to the study of law. As soon as he thought the attempt safe, he ofi ered himself as a candidate for admission to the bar ; and was re jected. Soon after this, if I mistake not the date, he embarked in an enterprise, much more congenial to his character. A man, who had lately died in the neighbourhood, had by will distributed to his oldest son a portion of his estate, which the youngest thought greater than his proper share. In the cause of the discontented brother our politician ardently engaged ; and undertook with the disinterested feelings, produced by the promise of a very liberal compensation, in case he should succeed, to persuade the elder brother to make a more equitable division of the property. The manner, in which he pursued this design, was, I believe, new. He saw the old gentleman, or dreamed that he saw him, (for it was impossible to tell which was the fact,) enter his bed-chamber in the night ; and held a long conversation with him concerning the manner, in which he had devised hi s estate to his sons. The old gentleman declared, that ever since he had left the world his con science had reproached him for the inequality of the distribution ; and that he had now come back for the purpose of disburdening his own mind, and doing justice to his children. He directed our hero, therefore, to go to the rich brother, and tell him, that, if he valued his father's pleasure or peace, he must make a more equal division of the property, and resign a part of it to his brother. The next morning our gentleman appeared with a solemnity of aspect and deportment, calculated to excite in those around him a curious and solicitous attention. To their numerous in quiries he answered in mysterious hints, fitted to sharpen curiosi ty, and awaken a general, and deep, concern. When this part of the plot had been sufficiently acted, he gradually, and reluctant ly, gave way to their importunities ; and disclosed in parcels the LETTER XV. 157 events of his vision. The subject soon engrossed the conversa tion of the neighbourhood ; and by the partisans of the dissatisfi ed brother was seized on with zeal. When the business had ac quired sufficient importance, and celebrity, he went to the eldest son ; and with great form, and solemnity, delivered the message of his father. But, upon being questioned concerning the cer tainty, and evidence, of his story he appealed, for proof, to his knowledge of this brother at first sight ; roundly declaring, that he had never seen him before ; and to his knowledge of several facts, respecting the distribution of the estate, which, he said, could not possibly have been known to him, unless immediately revealed by his father. In this appeal our adventurer was un happy. The facts, to which he had appealed, and which he had learned imperfectly from his employer, he had misstated; and the brother most unluckily remembered, that, some time before, he had been at his house ; and therefore could not fail to know him without the aid of revelation. All this he proved so unan swerably, that our adventurer, although vested with a preternat ural commission, and incased with a preternatural covering of brass, was struck dumb. As he left the house, the gentleman requested him, the next time he saw his father to present his best respects to him ; and entreat him, when he sent another message, to make a better story, and send it by a better hand. The catastrophe of the plot flew before him. He had already rendered himself odious, and contemptible, to many of his neighbours by the little mischiefs of pettifogging. The pressure of public indignation soon became so great, that he was obliged to decamp, and seek a refuge in Bartlett. Here he quitted law, and devoted himself to theology; assumed a demure countenance, and grave demeanor ; professed a high respect for religion ; and declaimed on its doctrines in all companies. After a long prelude of seriousness, and zeal, he offered himself, as a communicant, to a society of Baptists i but his character was so suspicious, and so no torious, that they refused to receive him. He determined how ever, to persevere: and it is said, that, influenced by his sober face, his zealous professions, and his copious harangues on reli- Vol. II. 21 158 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. gious subjects, which he carefully adapts to their prejudices, they have begun already to regard him less unfavourably, and will probably pronounce him, ere long, entitled to their charity. With an appropriate consistency of character, he has at the same time become a partisan of France, and an enemy to Washington As he has neither property, nor business; goes continually from house to house ; declaims every where ; and decides, like an oracle, on every subject: he will undoubtedly lead into folly, and wickedness, the ignorant, the modest, and the unsuspecting. You have here a miniature picture of a demagogue. " Ab hoc uno disce omnes." Some of them have greater, and some of them, perhaps, even less, advantages than this man: but the spir it, by which they are all actuated, the objects, at which they aim, and the moral nature of the means, by which they endeav our to accomplish them, are exactly the same. After dinner we proceeded to^onway, through a good road. In our way we crossed the Saco ; and found it about sixty yards in breadth; rapid ; and, although the season was dry, so deep, as nearly to reach our stirrups. Twenty-five miles above, I step-' ped across it easily. The water was so pure, as to lessen its depth to the eye, at least one half. Conway lies in a large bend of this river. Here the mountains first recede so far, as to leave on the North side of the Saco, a sufficient opening for a township. The lands, principally, are either pine-plains, or intervals : the latter extensive, and valua ble. The inhabitants appeared to be in comfortable circumstan ces : and the houses were decent. The town contains a single Congregation, who celebrate divine service, alternately, in two churches, harmoniously erected for the accommodation of two settlements, which include the body of the inhabitants. This is the second instance, which I have found of such a fact in New- England. Conway was incorporated in 1765. In 1775, it contained 273 inhabitants; in 1790, 574; in 1800, 705; and, in 1810, 1,080. Conway is the Northernmost township in the County of Straf ford. Here, for the first time, we saw the Norway pine. LETTER XV. 159 On the 4th of October we were detained by a violent storm. The next morning, the mountains behind us were seen in a very advantageous view. All the nearer, and lower summits, were blue, and misty. But Mount Washington, illumined by the East ern sun, shone with a glittering white : having been covered with snow by the tempest of the preceding day. The deep shadows cast by the projecting cliffs, enhanced the lustre. On the high est point awfully brooded a cloud, tossed into wild and fantastical forms ; and seemed to be the connecting link between the earth and the heavens. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XVI. Fryburgh— Hiram— Observations on Mount Washington — Standish — Gorham— Falmouth. Dear Sir, We left Conway on the 5th, and rode to Standish, forty-two miles. Fryburgh was the only town in our way : the first in the District of Maine. The township of Fryburgh lies on both sides of a remarkable bend in Saco river, extending in its circuit, as I was informed, more than thirty miles, and returning within seven miles of its former course. Its length, including all its windings before it enters Fryburgh, is about forty miles. The circuit of the bend is, I suspect, exaggerated : but it extends probably more than twenty miles. It is all included within this township ; the chief part of which is surrounded by it. The rest is a margin on its exteriour. The situation of the township is therefore pleas ant. That of the town is less inviting : being a sandy level. The houses are generally very decent. It contains a church ; and an academy, incorporated in the year 1792, and endowed with a tract of land in this District, containing, in 1800, 147 in habitants. It is said to be in a flourishing condition. Fryburgh was incorporated in 1777 ; and is included in the County of York. In 1 790, the number of its inhabitants was 447 ; in 1800, 734 ; and, in 1810, 1,004. It now belongs to the Coun ty of Oxford. We dined at Hiram ; a location twenty miles from Conway, but were late : the Saco having been so much swollen, that we were not able to cross at the usual ford. The country from Fry burgh to Standish is composed, to a small extent, of marshes ; principally of white and yellow pine plains ; and partly of what are here called swells, i. e. hills, occupying a considerable ex tent, and of such moderate acclivities, as to be easily cultivated. The white-pine plains are of stiff loam ; cold, but capable of be ing enriched by agriculture. The swells are moderately good LETTER XVI. 161 grazing ground. Most of this tract, unless I am deceived, will remain forested, until the other countries, within the reach of New-England emigration, are filled up. Hiram is extensively formed of swells ; and appears to possess a desirable soil. We passed by a wheat field in stubble, which, as we judged, must have yielded at least twenty bushels an acre. This location contained, in 1800, 134 inhabitants ; and, in 1810, 336. On a hill in this location we had a most interesting prospect of the White Mountains, at the distance of forty-two miles, meas ured on the road. Here they appeared, in connection with the heights in their neighbourhood, as a long range of proud eminen ces ; the loftier elevations of which covered with snow, majesti cally, and gradually, declined from the sight. In the centre, Mount Washington, white and glittering, alternated with strong dark shadows, looked down upon these mountains, as they did upon the world beneath. On the highest point rested a cloud, wild and tumultuous. The day was fair and pleasant ; the wind North- West ; and the clouds floated in an elevated region of the atmosphere. The reasons, why these mountains have that white appear ance, whence they have derived their name, are two. First, that during nine, ten, and sometimes eleven, months of the year, their summits, particularly that of Mount Washington, are covered with snow. Secondly. In almost all clear days, the only times, in which they can be distinctly seen at great distances, white, fleecy clouds, resting upon them, give them a white aspect, when ever they are seen at such distances. When viewed from a neigh bouring position, they are always, except where snow lies, or the rocks are naked, shrouded in a misty azure. The height of these mountains has been a subject of much dispute. Doctor Williams, all whose remarks on physical sub jects merit consideration and respect, supposes the summit of Mount Washington to be about 7,800 feet above the level of the ocean ; 72 feet below the point, which in the latitude of 44° 15', (that of these mountains,) is the estimated point of -perpetual 162 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. congelation on the Eastern continent. This point, he says, from the greater coldness of the American climate, cannot exceed, but must rather fall something short, of what it is in the European climate. The climates of America are, indeed, colder than those of Europe, in the same latitude, during the winter : but in the summer they are generally much hotter. Nor are the moun tains in any part of New-England of sufficient height, and extent, to lessen materially the degree of heat, generally prevailing; The air on the summit of Mount Washington must, therefore, continually be rendered less cold, by the ascent of the intensely heated atmosphere from subjacent regions. As the whole coun try partakes of this heat, the ascending volume, whencesoever derived, must be heated to nearly the same temperature. It seems scarcely credible, therefore, that the temperature of the atmosphere around the single point of Mount Washington should not, during the summer, be sensibly raised by the general heat of the country : for we are to remember, that this is the only height in the United States, which approximates near to the region of perpetual frost. The conclusion, that a given elevation in every country, lying under the same climate, is the limit of perpetual congelation, has been hastily drawn ; and certainly rests on too few observations. It may be just ; but in the present state of science, it will be dif ficult to prove it to be just." On the summit of Mount Washington there is usually little or no snow. That, which is so long visible in the regions below, is blown from the summit, and the North- Western side ; and lies on the Southern and South-Eastern only ; where it is defended from every cold wind by the precipice above, and exposed through June, July, and sometimes a part of August, to the full strength of the sun. Doctor Williams observes from Doctor Belknap, that the snow, although it sometimes covers these mountains in September, goes off again ; and is seldom fixed till the end of October. In 1 797, the year in which this journey was taken, the snow descended on them, the 26th of September ; and continued through the winter. In the year 1 803, when I visited LETTER XVI. 163 them again, it fell on, or about, the 9th of September. It cer tainly continued through that month ; for I saw it on the 30th. On the 6th of October it fell again. From an early day in Sep tember, therefore, it continued until the next summer. The sum mers of both these years were very warm. The Rev. Mr. Little of Kennebunk ascended Mount Wash ington in the middle of July 1 784. The cold, as he informed me, was then so severe, that he was unable to carve, on the rocks, more than one of the initials of his name, until he had warmed his hands anew, although he was provided with the most convenient instruments for this purpose. Doctor Belknap, speaking of this expedition, says, that when Doctor Cutler, who was one of the company, had taken a ther mometer out of his bosom, when it stood at fever heat, it soon fell to 44"; ,and that during the time, while he was adjusting a barometer, and thermometer, the cold nearly deprived him of the use of his fingers. . Doctor Cutler fixes the height of Mount Washington at 1 0,000 feet above the level of the ocean. Doctor Belknap supposes,' that it will exceed this elevation. It is proverbially asserted, along the Eastern coast, that Mount Washington is distinctly visible thirty leagues from the shore.' Doctor Belknap estimates its distance from the sea at sixty-five miles. Portland is at this nearest distance. From this town to the Notch, or to Mount Washington, the distance, measured on the road, is eighty-five miles. The utmost loss cannot, I think, exceed fifteen. The distance from this mountain to Portland is therefore seventy miles. Portland is at least ten miles within the common line of the coast. The distance of Mount Washing ton from the coast is, therefore, eighty miles. But, if we sup pose the estimate of Doctor Belknap correct, Mount Washington will be seventy-five miles from the common line of the coast. If then it is seen thirty leagues, or ninety miles, at sea ; it is visible at the distance of one hundred and sixty-five miles. This num ber I will reduce to one hundred and forty. The elevation of this summit, calculating upon its visibility at this distance, and 164 JOURNEY TQ THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. making the proper allowance for the refraction of light, will be 12,729 feet. Another deduction ought, however, to be made fox the fact, that, instead of being seen at the surface, it probably is always first perceived at mast-head. From the Notch, throughout the first two miles, it is almost every where so steep, as to make riding on horse-back seriously inconvenient : and the Saco is for sixteen miles a perpetual cas cade. It is every where a very rapid river ; and passes over seven falls : two of them forty feet in height. Its length is about one hundred and ten miles. The elevation of Mount Washing. ton above its fountains cannot, I think, be materially less than a mile and a half. The following observations of Doctor Cutler exhibit the state of vegetation on these mountains. " At the base of the summit of Mount Washington the limits of vegetation may with propriety be fixed. There are indeed on some of the rocks, even to their apices, scattered specks of a mossy appearance ; but I conceive them to be extraneous sub stances accidentally adhering to the rocks : for I could not dis cover, with my botanical microscope, any part of that plant reg ularly formed. The limits of vegetation at the base of this sum mit are as well defined, as that between the woods, and the bald and mossy part. So striking is the appearance, that at a consid erable distance the mind is impressed with an idea, that vegeta tion extends no farther than a line, as well defined, as the pe numbra, and shadow, in a lunar eclipse. The stones, that I have by me from the summit, have not the smallest appearance of moss upon them. There is evidently the appearance of three zones. 1. The woods. 2. The bald, mossy part. 3. The part above vegeta tion. The same appearance has been observed on the Alps, and all other high mountains. I recollect no grass on the plain. The spaces between the rocks in the second zone, and on the plain, are filled with spruce and fir, which perhaps have been growing ever since the deluge ; and yet many of them have not attained a greater height than LETTER XVI. 165 three or four inches : but their spreading tops are so thick, and strong, as to support the weight of a man, without yielding in the smallest degree : the snows, and winds, keeping the surface, even with the general surface of the rocks. In many places on the sides, we could get glades of this growth, some rods in extent, when we could, by sitting down on our feet, slide the whole length. The tops of the growth of wood were so thick and firm, as to bear us currently a considerable distance before we arrived at the utmost boundaries, which were almost as well defined, as the water on the shore of a pond. The tops of the wood had the appearance of having been shorn off, exhibiting a smooth surface, from their upper limits to a great distance down the mountain." The country between Hiram and Standish presents little to en gage the attention of a traveller, except the cataracts of the Saco. Several of these announced their proximity to us, while we were on the road, by their majestic sound. One of them we examin ed. The Saco is here a large river. The rocks, which obstruct its current, form a ledge, forty feet in height ; and are so rudely thrown together, as to give the cataract all the advantage of the wild, tumultuous, and masterly workmanship of nature. The force and grandeur were very great, mingled with the various, and striking, beauties of a cascade. A cloud of mist ascended from below, finely coloured with the hues of the rainbow. We reached Standish in the evening. The settlement of this township commenced about the year 1760. It was incorporated in 1 785 ; and contains about 200 fam ilies, and one congregation. The number of inhabitants in 1 790 was 716 ; in 1800, 1,226 ; in 1810, 1,378. Standish lies in the County of Cumberland, on its Western boundary. The land in this township is that, which is here called hard wood land; or land, producing oak and other kinds of wood, which are called hard, in opposition to pine, and other soft kinds. The soil is so exactly distinguished by the forest vegetation, that to say land produces hard, or soft wood, is equivalent to saying, that the soil is good, or bad. This soil, after leaving New-Hamp shire, we first saw in Hiram : and there found the first oaks, after Vol. II. 22 166 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. leaving Bath. Antecedently to the year 1784, the inhabitants made no serious attempts to cultivate their ground. Until that time they firmly believed their climate to be so unfavourable, and their soil so sterile, that all efforts of this nature must be fruitless. By some considerations, or other, they were induced to make a single trial; but with a strong apprehension, that they were la bouring in vain. They sowed, and planted, their fields; and were not a little surprised to find them, atthe usual period of harvest, covered with good crops. Since that time they have regularly applied themselves to agriculture ; and with success. They cultivate wheat, but not in great quantities. Maize suc ceeds well. Apple-trees are numerous, and thrifty; and pear- trees grow without difficulty. The houses were in general ordinary. Friday, October 6th, we left Standish and rode to Portland, through Gorham, eight or nine miles ; Falmouth, seven; Portland, three : in all eighteen or nineteen. Gorham is a large township of farms. It was incorporated in 1764; and contained in 1790, 2,244 inhabitants ; in 1800, 2,503; and in 1810, 2,632. The surface is formed of hills and vallies; and the soil is good. The houses are better than in Standish. In the neighbourhood of the church, a large bidding of an indif ferent appearance, there is a small village. Farming commenced in this township about the same time, as in Standish. Originally a great part of the inhabitants employed themselves in the business of getting lumber ; i. e. in cutting such forest trees, as were suitable for timber, and bringing them to mar ket. Previous to the year 1 787, this business had materially de clined. The trees which grew at a distance within reach of the market, had been chiefly cut down; and many saw-mills suffered to to fall into decay. The lumbermen were without employment: and, as they were accustomed to no other business, their families saw nothing but ruin before them. About the year 1 787, several of these men conceived and undertook to execute, the design of raft ing logs across a lake, called by my informant Tobacook : the LETTER XVI. 167 same, I presume, with Sebacook, or Sebago. This lake* commen ces, about three miles North of Standish; and extends about thir teen miles in length, and about nine in breadth. On its Northern and Eastern sides were large, forested tracts, which had never been visited .by this class of men. Their first experiments at rafting, (a thing, which would probably have been thought practicable by no • other persons,) were so often unsuccessful, that even themselves were discouraged. But the pressure of poverty, and a spirit of har dy enterprise, induced them, though not without some intermis sions, to persevere until they finally completed their design. In con sequence of this event, logs in immense numbers were brought to market down the river Presumpscot, or Pesumpscot, which issues from this lake. The-saw mills were repaired, and put into action : and an extensive commerce was opened from Portland in this useful article. Falmouth is a large township, formerly including the present Falmouth, Cape Elizabeth, and Portland. It was incorporated in 1718. The name, by which it was most generally known was Casco Bay. The original settlement was made on the site of Portland. By degrees, the interiour of the township has been so . far filled up, that, exclusively of Portland, and Cape Elizabeth, it contained, in 1775, 2,991 inhabitants; and in 1800, 3,482; and, in 1810, 4,105. We saw few proofs of commercial business in Falmouth. In a small village, built on an inlet near the shore, there were two vessels on the stocks. The soil appeared to be indifferent ; and the means, on which these inhabitants live, are scarcely discern ible by a traveller. Cherry trees in considerable numbers were growing in the gardens : the first, which we had found after leav ing Haverhill. I was afterwards informed that the soil of Fal mouth was generally much better, than that which we saw. I am, Sir, yours, &c. * For a description of this lake see Massachusetts Hist. Col. LETTER XVII. Portland — Its Buildings and Commerce — Attacks from the Indians — Wantonly de stroyed by Captain Mowat in 1775. Dear Sir, We arrived at Portland before dinner ; and after dining called on the Rev. Mr. K. one of the Ministers of this town. He ac companied us through every part of it ; and by the aid of his in formation enabled us to examine with advantage whatever attract ed our attention. From the town we proceeded to the fortifica tions, erected on its North-Eastern skirt. They consist of a bat tery on the Southern declivity of a hill, and a fort, and citadel, on the summit. The battery looks directly into the harbour ; and the fort, which is still, in an unfinished state commands both that, and the neighbouring country. Portland lies one hundred and twenty-three miles North-East-' ward from Boston ; and half that distance from Portsmouth. It was incorporated in the year 1786. Formerly it was known by the name of Falmouth : being, in the New-England sense, the town to which that name was given, and the place which it cus tomarily denoted. It is built on a peninsula, resembling the form of a saddle : the principal part of the houses being erected on the seat. The sit uation is handsome : the harbour, a beautiful piece of water spreading on the South-East, and the cove, smaller, but scarcely less beautiful, on the North- West. This cove at the time of ebb becomes a pond. A bridge, thrown over the outlet, connects Portland with the main in this direction. The peninsula is uni versally handsome. The site of the town is an easy, elegant arched slope. The principal streets run parallel with the length of the peninsula ; and are crossed by others nearly at right-an gles. Like those of most other towns in this country, they are des titute of that exact regularity, both in their position and direction, which would have rendered them entirely beautiful. The houses are new ; and many of them make a good appearance. There are LETTER XVII. 169 two Congregational, and one Episcopal, churches. But neither these, nor the other public buildings, are remarkable for their ap pearance. The situation of Portland is probably as healthy, as any in New-England. The slope, on which it is built, furnishes every Where a ready passage for all the water, and the happiest means of keeping the town perfectly cleari. Nothing can stagnate here without pains-taking. The air cannot but be sweet. The wells furnish an ample supply of pure- and fine water. Accordingly; the inhabitants enjoy as uninterrupted health, as those of any place, of the same size, in the United States. The harbour is safe, capacious, and rarely frozen. It is suffi ciently deep to admit ships of the line. The wharves of no great length, reach to the channel. No American town is more entire ly commercial ; and, of course none is more sprightly. Lumber; fish, and ships, are the principal materials of their commerce* Several roads from the interiour of New-Hampshire, and Ver mont, partly made, and partly in contemplation, are opening an extensive correspondence between Portland and these countries. The importance of this fact needs no explanation. An extensive fertile country, which is already settled to a considerable extent, and will soon be filled with inhabitants, will through these chan nels pour their produce into this town. The importance of the commerce, carried on in Portland, will be seen in the following table of duties on imports. Years. Duties. 1801 $204,333 1802 157,290 1803 161,295 1804 225,759 1805 - 299,229 L806 342,909 1807 263,562 1808 37,633 1809 60,309 1810 109,724 170 Journey to the white mountains. The people of Portland exhibit the same pleasing manners, and the same hospitality, which I have mentioned as prevailing along this coast. A traveller cannot easily visit them, without carrying away a very advantageous impression of their character. On the ground where the fortifications now stand, several per sons were employed, about eight or ten years before we arrived here, in proving a number of cannon. One of them burst ; and a fragment struck a Danish gentleman, the commander of a ship trading to this country ; and terminated his life in four hours. He was an only son ; was the sole support of his widowed mother, and two sisters; was connected with a young lady in this town ; and was to have been married to her at the close of a voyage, which he was then just ready to commence. He was also a per son of distinguished worth, and universally respected by the peo ple of Portland. A great number of persons were standing around him, when he fell ; but providentially none of them were injured. On Saturday, in company with a number of the gentlemen of Portland, we made a delightful excursion to Bangs' island, a few miles down the harbour. The day was very fine, and the com pany highly agreeable. Our business, professedly, was fishing; in which we were perfectly successful. It is true, we neither caught, nor attempted to catch, any fish ; but we made an excel lent dinner of very fine ones. This town, then named Falmouth, began to be settled, antece dently to the year 1676 ; for in that year about thirty of the in habitants were either captivated, or destroyed, and the rest obli ged to fly for safety to a neighbouring island.* In 1689 the savages renewed their attacks on this region, and Colonel Church, a celebrated and successful partisan, heretofore mentioned, was sent to defend it with a body of troops. When he arrived, he found seven hundred French and Indians, assem bled on an island, preparing to attack a fort, erected here for the security of the neighbourhood. The enemy, having landed the following night, he attacked, and defeated them; though not with- * Hubbard. letter xvii. 171 out considerable loss on his own side. This battle probably sav ed the settlements in Maine from absolute ruin. In the spring of the next year, the savages renewed their at tacks upon Falmouth. There were, at this time, three forts in the town. All these, being scarcely capable of defence, fell into the hands of the enemy. One was abandoned ; anoth er taken by assault ; and the third surrendered. One hundred of the inhabitants were made prisoners : and the town was de stroyed. The slain were left unburied until the next year ; when they received from Colonel Church such an interment, as was in his power. From this time, the Province of Massachusetts Bay adopted more vigorous measures for the defence of Falmouth ; in consequence of which they seem to have enjoyed a general tran quillity. In the month of October, 1775, Falmouth met with a new and most afflicting disaster. Captain Mowat, the commander of a British sloop of war, who had been often entertained by the in habitants with much politeness and hospitality, came on shore, ve ry naturally expecting to find again the same welcome reception. You will easily believe that the battles of Lexington and Breed's Hill had materially changed the feelings of the Americans towards such Britons, at least as were personally engaged in hostilities against the country. The inhabitants of Falmouth, however, of fered him no incivility. But a Mr. Thompson of Brunswick, with several other persons, all of them strangers, seized him as he was walking on the hill, where the fort now stands ; and exhibited a disposition to treat him with severity. This act, unwarranted by any authority, and merely the result of the ardour and violence of the day, was reprobated by the principal inhabitants. Briga dier General Preble and Colonel Freeman, together with seve ral other citizens of Falmouth, having received intelligence of the outrage, went in a body to Thompson, and his associates; and urged them to release Mowat ; pledging themselves for his future good conduct. He was released accordingly ; but not without much hesitation, and difficulty, on the part of Thompson. 1 72 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Mowat immediately sailed for Boston ; and, seconded by seve ral inhabitants of Falmouth ; who, having embarked eagerly in the British cause, had found it convenient to retire to Boston for protection ; solicited, and obtained, from Admiral Greaves leave to destroy Falmouth. On the 1 8th of the same month he appeared before the town, with his own ship, and several smaller vessels; and informed the inhabitants by a messenger, that he had orders to destroy it. In vain did the people remonstrate against this wanton act of cruelty. In vain did Brigadier Preble remind him of the former civilities of the inhabitants ; of the interference of himself, and others, to pre serve him from the abuse, to which he was destined by the hands of violent men; and of the pledge, which had been given, for the purpose of accomplishing his deliverance. The only indulgence which they could obtain, was a respite till the next morning. During the night the inhabitants removed such parts of their property, as this little interval permitted them to carry away. Early in the morning the British vessels began to fire on the town; and continued the work of devastation until they had reduced all the public buildings except the Congregational church, one hun dred and thirty dwelling-houses, and a great number of out build ings, to ashes. General Preble, whose heart swelled with an in dignation, which no words can express, at this violation of all faith and decency, this ungrateful return for his own kindness, this outrageous cruelty towards such a number of people, perfect ly innocent, and claiming from Captain Mowat respect, and good will for their civilities to him, refused to retire, or take any mea sures for the security of his person or property, and spent the whole period, while the devastation was going on, upon the ground near the North-Eastern corner of the town, exposed in the most open manner to the shot and shells. Nor could all the solicita-' tions of his friends persuade him to retire. By this wanton and malicious act of revenge about one hundred and sixty families were driven, at a late period of the year, to find an asylum from the winter, in a country thinly inhabited, and inhabited by those, who were ill able to furnish them with the necessary means of LETTER XVII. 173 subsistence, or even with a shelter. A great part of their most useful property had been destroyed : and they were left to expe rience those severe sufferings, which are the usual result of a conflagration. The story ran through the continent with an electrical rapidity; and produced an universal indignation and horrour. Instead of disheartening the inhabitants, it only edged their resentment against the British, and rendered their alienation more complete. Captain Mowat, the author of it has achieved the immortality of Erostratus ; and will be remembered by future generations, as a fiend, and not as a man. I am, Sir, yours, &c. Vol. II. 23 LETTER XVIII. Story of General Wadsworth— Attack on his house— His capture. Dear Sir, Among the most respectable inhabitants of this town, from whom we received an uninterrupted succession of civilities, Ma jor General Wadsworth, for many years a member of the Ameri can Congress, deserves to be remembered by us with particular respect. The following part of this gentleman's history will, I think, excite in your mind a lively interest. After the failure of the expedition against the British garrison at Penobscot, General Wadsworth was sent, in the spring of 1 780, by the Legislature of Massachusetts to command in the District of Maine. The principal objects of his mission were to retain the inhabitants in their allegiance, and in their attachment to the American cause, and to obstruct the efforts of the enemy. In these employments he spent the summer of 1780, and the princi pal part of the following winter. Before the end of February he dismissed his troops; the period of their enlistment being finish ed ; and began to make the necessary preparations for his return to Boston. Mrs. Wadsworth, and a friend of hers, Miss Fenno of Boston, had accompanied him, and continued here till this time. His preparations for returning could not escape notice. A neighbouring inhabitant, hostile to the American cause, had atten tively observed his motions, and announced his design to the commander of the British fort; observing, that, if he seized the present moment, he might make General Wadsworth a prisoner ; that he was defenceless, having only six soldiers under his com mand; that he would speedily leave the country; and that the least delay would frustrate this important object. The British commander listened eagerly to the intelligence ; and immediate ly sent a party of twenty -five soldiers, with their officers, to attack the house, in which he lodged. They embarked in a small LETTER XVIII. 175 schooner, already equipped for a cruise ; and proceeded to an inlet, four miles from the General's quarters, called West South River. Here they arrived at the beginning of the evening ; and lay concealed in the house of one Snow, a Methodist preacher ; professedly a friend to him, but really a traitor ; until 1 1 o'clock. The ground was covered with snow; and the weather severely cold. The surface, in the neighbourhood of the house, was hil ly. An enemy could therefore advance within a few rods, with out being discovered. For this reason the sentinel at the door was regularly ordered to fire his piece at the appearance of an enemy, and to escape without attempting to enter the house : as any effort of this nature would enable the enemy to enter at the same time. The party came suddenly upon the sentinel, who gave the alarm by crying, " Who is there ?" His comrades instantly opened the door ; and as he went in, the enemy fired a vol ley into the kitchen, which was the soldier's guard room, and en tered it together with the sentinel. Another party of them at the same instant fired through the windows of the room, in which the General and his lady slept ; and blew the windows in. A third, at the same moment, forced their way through the windows ; and took possession of the room, in which Miss Fenno lay. Thus they were masters of the whole house, except the room, where the General lay, which was strongly barred. The British officers, finding nobody in Miss Fenno's room, beside her and Mrs. Wads worth, who, hastily dressing herself, had escaped into it, ordered the firing there to cease. General Wadsworth had a pair of pistols, a blunderbuss, and a fusee. With the pistols, which he had discharged several times, he had defended the windows of his room, and a door, which opened into the kitchen ; and prevented the assailants from en tering. He now heard their feet advancing through the front en try ; and snapped his blunderbuss at them. They retreated. He snapped it again at several of the soldiers, who were forcing their way through the pannel of the kitchen door. These re treated also. He then seized his fusee; and discharged it upon 176 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. some others, who were breaking through one of the windows. These also fled. The attack was then renewed through the en try. Against this he defended himself with his bayonet. His linen discovering him to the soldiers in the kitchen, they fired at him ; and one of their balls went through his left arm, and termi nated the contest. Upon his announcing, that he would surrender, the firing was ordered to cease. The soldiers, however, continued to fire from the kitchen. General Wadsworth, unbarring the door, and open ing it, said, " My brave fellows, why do you fire after I have sur rendered ?" The soldiers rushed into his room ; and one of them, who had been badly wounded, exclaiming with an oath, " You have taken my life, and I will take yours," pointed a musket at his breast. The commanding officer, who had entered the room through the other door at that moment, struck the musket with his sword, and saved the General's life. One of the officers now brought a candle from Miss Fenno's room ; and exclaimed, "Sir, you have defended yourself too well ; you have done too much for one man. You must excuse haste. Shall we help you on with your clothes ? You see, we are in a critical situation." The soldiers were ordered out to parade before the door. The Gen eral's clothes were soon put on, except his coat ; which his wounded arm rendering it impossible for him to wear, it was committed to a soldier. Mrs. Wadsworth, and Miss Fenno, came into the room ; and, suppressing their intense emotions with ad mirable fortitude, proposed to examine the General's wound. This, however, the haste of the party prevented. Mrs. Wads- Worth threw a blanket over him : and Miss Fenno tied a hand kerchief very closely around his arm, to check the copious effu sion of blood. A soldier then took him out of the house. He was much exhausted ; and, supposing that the ball had cut an ar tery, told the officer, he would not carry him far. Fortunately, however, the blood, being congealed by the cold, and stayed by the bandage, ceased to flow ; and his strength and spirits speedily returned. LETTER XVIII. 177 The party withdrew in great haste ; and increased their expe dition, in consequence of the report of a musket, fired at no great distance on the other side of the river. The two wounded Brit ish soldiers were mounted on a horse, taken from General Wads- worth's barn. The General himself, and a wounded American soldier, were on foot ; but were aided in their march by their cap tors. When they had proceeded about a mile, a number of per sons, who had gathered at a small house on the way, and who had seen the party when they went out, hailed them ; and asked whether they had taken General Wadsworth. They said no : and added, that they wished to leave a wounded man with them ; that, if they took good care of him, they should be well paid ; but, if not, that they would come, and burn their house. The wound ed man, apparently dying, was then carried into the house ; and General Wadsworth, after being warned, that his safety depended upon his silence, was set on the horse behind the other wounded soldier. A part of their course lay over a frozen mill-pond, about a mile in length. At the head of this pond they were met by some of the party, who had been left behind, to take care of the Methodist preacher's house. These, having learned the success of the enterprise, hurried back to the privateer; to carry the news. When the party reached the privateer, some wert^o^r- joyed, and others swore bitterly. The Captain, particularly, was in a rage, on being informed, that he must return with his priva teer to the fort ; and, instead of sending the prisoner by a small boat, as had been originally proposed, must convey him in his vessel. Seeing some of his men wounded, he demanded, with a furious voice how he, the General, dared to fire on the King's troops ; damned him for a rebel; and ordered him to go, and help launch the boat: declaring, that, if he did not, he would put his hanger through his body. General Wadsworth coolly answered, that he was a prisoner ; was badly wounded ; and could not assist in launching the boat ; however he might think proper to treat him. The commanding officer had gone into the house, to take some refreshment ; but, hearing of this abusive behaviour of the Cap- 1 78 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. tain, returned immediately ; and, in a manner very honourable to himself, told the Captain, that the prisoner was a gentleman, had made a brave defence, and was to be treated accordingly. At the same time he informed him, that he must return with his pri vateer to Bagaduce ; (the point on which the British fort stood;) both on account of the prisoner, and of his own wounded men ; and must therefore embark his own people, and the party, imme diately. He added further, that his conduct should be represent ed to General Campbell as soon as he arrived. The poor Cap tain, thunder-struck with this denunciation, lost his importance in a moment. The men were embarked ; the stern of the boat was given to the General ; and, after they had gone on board, the best cabin, and the most comfortable things which the vessel could af ford. The General's arm was now benumbed, rather than painful. The vessel was soon under weigh : and a cold Northern wind drove her with such violence, as seriously to incommode General W. and his fellow-sufferers. I will now return to the ladies, who were left behind in their desolated house. Not a window in this habitation escaped the destruction. The doors were broken down; and two of the rooms^were set on fire. The floors were drenched with blood : and on one of them lay a brave old soldier, (through whose arm, near the shoulder joint, had been driven the whole charge of a musket; consisting of a wad, powder, and ball ;) begging for death, that he might be released from his misery. To add to the suf ferings of these unfortunate ladies, a number of the neighbouring inhabitants, having heard of the disaster, flocked in, and filled the house. Here they did nothing but gaze about with an idle curi osity, or make useless, numerous, and very troublesome, inquiries. Scarcely any thing could be more wearisome, or more provoking. At length the ladies assumed resolution enough to reprove them with some severity ; and thus restored them from the stupor, pro duced by these novel and disastrous events, to thought, feeling, and exertion. As soon as they had fairly recovered themselves, they very cordially, and kindly, united their efforts to render the LETTER XVIII. 179 best offices in their power. The next morning they repaired the doors and windows ; cleansed the floors ; dressed the wounded man in the best manner1 in their power; and placed the family in as comfortable circumstances, as the case would admit. You will easily believe, that the solicitude of both General Wadsworth, and the ladies, particularly of Mrs. Wadsworth was extreme. What an affectionate wife must feel for a husband, sit uated as he was, nothing but the experience of such a wife, in such circumstances, could enable even the female heart to realize. To all his other distresses was added, in the mind of the General, the most excruciating anxiety concerning his little son : a boy of five years old. This child, and a sister younger than himself, slept with a maid in the bed-room ; directly in the range of the ene my's first discharge into the kitchen. As the General was leav ing the door, after he had been made a prisoner, the maid came to it with the younger child : but he could not recollect that he had seen his son, after the onset. This, he thought, could scarce ly have happened, unless the child had been killed. Near the close of the day, the privateer approached the place of her destination. The signal of success was made ; the cap ture of General Wadsworth announced ; and the shore thronged with spectators, to see the man, who through the preceding year had disappointed all the designs of , the British in this quarter. They were composed of Britons, and American refugees, of eve ry class. David has often deprecated in the most pathetic man ner the triumph of his enemies. General Wadsworth was now furnished with an opportunity of realizing the import of the lan guage, and entering deeply into the feelings of the Psalmist. The General left the privateer amid loud shouts of the rabble, which covered the shore ; and was conducted to the house of a very respectable refugee, until a report concerning the success of the expedition should be made to General Campbell ; the Com mandant of the post ; and his orders should be received. A guard soon came, with orders to bring the prisoner to the guard room, within the fort ; which was about half a mile from the landing. A guard, even of an enemy, was to him a very desirable- ISO JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. accompaniment at the present time : for among those, who were around him, there were manypersons, from whom, in these circum stances, he had nothing to expect, but abuse. When he arrived af the fort, he was conducted into the officers' guard-room ; and was treated with politeness. Soon after, General Campbell sent a mes senger to General Wadsworth with his compliments ; informing him, that his situation should be made as comfortable, as it could be; and that a surgeon should attend him immediately, to dress his wound. The surgeon soon came ; and upon examination found the joint of the elbow uninjured, and pronounced the wound to be free from danger, if the artery was unhurt. This, he said, could not be determined, until a suppuration had taken place. After the wound had been dressed, and supper served, General Wadsworth retired to rest. In the morning the Commandant sent an invitation to him to breakfast with him ; and. at table paid him very handsome compliments on the defence, which he had made, observing however, that he had exposed himself in a degree not perfectly justifiable. His guest replied, that from the manner of the attack, he had no reason to suspect any design of taking him alive ; and that he intended, therefore, to sell his life as dearly as possible. " These things," said General Campbell, " are very natural to gentlemen of our profession. But, Sir, I understand that the Captain of the privateer treated you very ill. I shall see that matter set right." He then informed his guest, that a room in the officers' barracks, within the fort, was prepared for him ; and that he should send his orderly sergeant daily, to attend him to breakfast, and dinner, at his table; where a seat would always be reserved for him, whenever he chose to accept of it. This polite proffer was followed by other observations, of the same general nature ; after which General Wadsworth withdrew to his quarters. He was now alone. He was a prisoner. The ardour of enter prise was over. He had no object to engage his attention ; no plan to pursue ; no motive to excite an effort, or even to rouse a vigorous thought. The calm, sluggish course, became absolutely dead, when contrasted by his mind with the storm of war, which LETTER XVln. 181 had just passed over. General Campbell, probably foreseeing that such must be his prisoner's situation, sent him in the course of the forenoon several books of amusement ; and then calling up on him in person, endeavoured by cheerful conversation to make the time pass agreeably. Not long after, the officers of the party came in to inquire con cerning his situation ; and, while they were present, appeared the redoubtable Captain of the privateer. He told General Wadsworth, that he called to ask pardon for what had fallen from him, when in a passion ; that it was not in his nature to treat a gentleman prisoner ill ; that the unexpected disappoint ment of his cruise had thrown him off his guard ; and that he hoped, that this would be deemed a sufficient apology. General Wadsworth accepted it; and his visitors withdrew. Neither books, nor company, however, could prevent the forenoon from being tedious and long. " Remembrance," in spite of amuse ment, would "wake with all her busy train." Anticipation, sometimes her very restless and intrusive companion, would pre sent melancholy pictures ; and whisper prophecies of suffering and sorrow. About four o'clock P. M. the orderly sergeant, presenting the compliments of the Commandant, summoned Gen eral Wadsworth to dinner. He accepted the invitation, notwith standing his sufferings ; and particularly, as he had a wish to see the guests. They were numerous ; and consisted of all the prin cipal officers of the garrison. Their conversation was evidently guarded, but delicate ; and particularly polite to the stranger. His arm, however, began to be painful : and having satisfied his curiosity, he respectfully withdrew. The first object, which now seriously engaged his attention, was to obtain some knowledge concerning the situation of his wife and family, and to communicate his own to them. For this pur pose he wrote, the next morning, a billet to the Commandant ; requesting, that a flag of truce might be sent to a militia officer in Camden ; a town on the South- Western skirt of Penobscot bay, not far distant from Bagaduce ; with a letter to the Governor of Massachusetts, and another to Mrs. Wadsworth. The request Vol. II. 24 182 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. was immediately granted, on the condition, that the letter to the Governor should be inspected. To this General Wadsworth made no objection. The letter contained nothing, but an ac count of his own situation, a request, that an exchange might be speedily effected in his favour ; and an exhibition of the obliging manner, in which he had been treated, since he had been made a prisoner. The letter was perfectly acceptable to the British Commander. The flag was given to Lieutenant Stockton ; the officer by whom General Wadsworth had been taken prisoner. As soon as the weather permitted, he set out for Camden in a boat; and within a fortnight from the disastrous night, mentioned above, re turned with a letter from Mrs. Wadsworth. This letter to his great joy informed him, that his wife and family were in more comfortable circumstances, than he had been prepared to imagine, and particularly, that his son was alive. The child had slept through the whole of that dreadful night ; and knew nothing of the family sufferings, until the next morning. This fortnight had been a painful one to General Wadsworth. The increasing inflammation of his wound had confined him en tirely to his room : and the sudden transition from domestic hap piness to a gloomy solitude, and from liberty to a prison, admitted of few consolations. General Campbell, continued his attention to him for some time. About half of the officers in the garrison called upon him as often, as propriety permitted. Their conver sation, in which political discussions were carefully avoided, was intentionally made as agreeable to him, as might be. They also sent him in succession a variety of entertaining books. Upon the whole, the connection formed between him and them became not only pleasant, but interesting. At the end of five weeks, his wound was so far healed, that he was able to go abroad. He then sent to General Campbell a note* requesting the customary privilege of a parole. The re quest was not granted. The reasons assigned were, that it would be unsafe for General Wadsworth to expose himself to the hostil ity of the refugees, some of whom were his bitter enemies ; that LETTER XVIII. 183 the garrison might be endangered by the inspection of a military man ; and particularly, that General Campbell had reported his situation to the Commanding officer at New- York, and must there fore receive his directions, before he made any alterations in the circumstances of the prisoner. These reasons had weight : and General Wadsworth acquiesced. At the same time he was per mitted to take the air in pleasant weather, by walking some time, every convenient day, on the parade within the fort, under the care of the officer of the guard. In these walks he was attended by two centinels ; and accompanied by some of the officers of the garrison. These little excursions were very favourable, both to his health, and spirits. Upon the whole, to use his own lan guage, his confinement became tolerable. In about two months, when the mild season was approaching, and began to relax the chains of winter, Mrs. Wadsworth, and Miss Fenno, under the protection of a passport from Gen. Camp bell, arrived at Bagaduce ; and were conducted with much civil ity to his quarters. General Campbell, and many of his officers. cheerfully contributed their efforts to render the visit agreeable to all concerned. It continued ten days. In the mean time an answer, or rather orders, had arrived from the Commanding Gen eral at New- York. This General Wadsworth augured from the change of countenance in some of the officers. The import of the orders was intentionally concealed from Mrs. W. and Miss F. But, Miss F. had accidentally learned their nature by a hint, which fell from an officer, occasionally at the General's quarters, and indicated that he was not to be exchanged, but to be sent either to New- York, or Halifax, or some other place in the Brit ish dominions. This information she carefully concealed, until the moment of her departure ; when, to prevent Mrs. W. from suspecting her design, she barely said with a significant air, " Gen eral Wadsworth, take care of yourself." The weather being fine, the ladies re-embarked; and without any serious misfortune landed, the second day, at Camden. I am, Sir, yours, &C LETTER XIX. Story of General Wadsworth concluded — Major Burton. Dear Sir, Soon after the departure of the ladies, General Wadsworth was informed, that a parole could not be given to him, because some of the refugees had communicated unfavourable information con cerning him to the Commander in Chief at New- York. From this time, General Campbell withheld his civilities. Other offi cers in the garrison however visited him daily ; treated him with polite attention; and beguiled by various amusements the tedious hours of his captivity. He learned from the servants who atten ded him, that he was not to be exchanged, but sent to England, as a rebel of too much consequence to be safely trusted with his liberty. Not long afterwards, about the middle of April, Major Benjamin Burton, an agreeable, brave, and worthy man, who had served under General Wadsworth the preceding summer, was taken, on his passage from Boston to St. George's river, the place of his residence ; brought to the fort at Bagaduce ; and lodged io the same room with General Wadsworth. Burton confirmed the re port of the servants. He had learned from a source which be justly regarded as authentic, that both himself and the General were to be sent, immediately after the return of a privateer, now out upon a cruise, either to New- York or to Halifax ; and thence to England. There they were to remain prisoners until the close of the War ; and were to be treated afterwards, as circumstances should direct. This intelligence, thus confirmed, explained at once the monitory caution of Miss Fenno; and perfectly exhib ited to General Wadsworth the importance of taking care of him*, self. The gentlemen were not long in determining, that they would- not cross the Atlantic as prisoners. They resolved, that they^ would effect their escape, or perish in the attempt. When an LETTER XIX. 1$5 enterprize, bordering on desperation, is resolutely undertaken, the means of accomplishing it are rarely wanted. It must, however, he admitted, that scarcely any circumstances could promise less than theirs. They were confined in a grated room, in the officers' barracks, within the fort. The walls of this fortress, exclusively of the depth of the ditch surrounding it, were twenty feet high; with fraising on the top, and Chevaux-de-frise at the bottom. Two sentinels were always in the entry ; and their door, the upper part of which was a windowsash, might be open ed by these watchmen, whenever they thought proper ; and was actually opened at seasons of peculiar darkness and silence. At the exteriour doors of the entries sentinels were also stationed : as were others in the body of the fort, and at the quarters of Gen. Campbell. At the guard-house a strong guard was daily mount ed. Several sentinels were daily stationed on the walls of the fort : and a complete line occupied them by night. Without the ditch, glacis, and abattis, another complete set of soldiers patroll ed through the night also. The gate of the fort was shut at sun set: and a piquet guard was placed on, or near, the isthmus, lead ing from the fort to the main land. Bagaduce, on the middle of which the fort stands, is a peninsu la, about a mile and a half in length, and a mile in breadth; wash ed by Penobscot bay on the South, Bagaduce river on the East on the North- West by a broad cove, and throughout the remain der of the circle by the bay and river of Penobscot. A sandy beach, however, connects it with the main land on the Western side. From these facts the difficulties of making an escape may be im perfectly imagined. Indeed, nothing but the melancholy pros pect of a deplorable captivity in the hands of an enemy, exasper ated by a long and tedious war, carried on against those who were deemed rebels,; could have induced the prisoners to take this res olution. Not long after a cartel arrived from Boston, bringing letter* from the Governor and Council to General Wadsworth, with a proposal for his exchange, and a sum of money, &c. for his use. These were carefully delivered to him : but the exchange being, 186 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. as General Campbell said, not authorised, he refused to liberate the prisoners. This determination they. had expected. Several plans were proposed by the gentlemen for their escape; and successively rejected. At length they resolved on the fol lowing. The room, in which they were confined was ceiled with boards. One of these they determined to cut off, so as to make a hole, sufficiently large for a man to go through. After having passed through this hole, they proposed to creep along one of the joists, under which these boards were nailed, and thus to pass over the officers' rooms, bordering on it, until they should come to the next, or middle, entry ; and then to lower themselves down into this entry by a blanket which they proposed to carry with them. If they should be discovered, they proposed to act the character of officers, belonging to the garrison, intoxicated. These being objects to which the sentinels were familiarised, they hop ed in this disguise to escape detection. If they should not be dis covered, the passage to the walls of the fort was easy. Thence they intended to leap into the ditch; and, if they escaped without serious injury from the fall, to make the best of their way to the cove ; on the surface of whose water they meant to leave their hats floating, (if they should be closely pursued,) to attract the fire of the enemy ; while they were softly, and silently, making their escape. Such was their original plan. Accordingly, after the prisoners had been seen by the sentinel, looking through the glass of the door, to have gone to bed, Gen. W. got up, the room being dark; and, standing in a chair, attempted to cut with his knife the inten ded opening ; but he found the attempt useless, and hazardous. It was useless, because the labour was too great to be accomplish ed with the necessary expedition. It was hazardous, because the noise, made by the strokes of the knife, could not fail, amid the profound silence, of being heard by the sentinel ; and because the next morning must bring on an unpleasant detection. This part of the design was, therefore, given up. The next day, a soldier, who was their barber, was requested to procure a large gimblet, and bring it with him, when he came the LETTER XIX. 187 next time to dress General Wadsworth. This he promised, and performed, without a suspicion, that it was intended for any thing more than amusement. He received a dollar for this piece of ci vility ; and was sufficiently careful not to disclose a secret, which might create trouble for himself. The prisoners waited with anxiety for the arrival of the suc ceeding night. To their surprise, the noise made by the gimblet was such, as to alarm their apprehensions, and induce them again to desist. They were, however, not discouraged ; hut determin ed to make the experiment again during the day, when they hoped the noise would either not be heard at all, or would attract no notice. The eyes of the sentinels were now to be eluded ; for the operation must in this case be performed at times, when they might very naturally be employed in inspecting the room. It was necessary, also, to escape the observation of their servants ; who often came in without any warning ; and that of the officers ; who were accustomed to visit them at almost all times of the day. But on these difficulties their persevering minds dwelt, only for the purpose of overcoming them. The two sentinels, who guar ded the prisoners, commonly walked through the entry, one after the other, from the front of the building to the rear. This dis tance was exactly the breadth of two rooms. After they had. be gun their walk, the prisoners watched them with attention, until they acquired a complete comprehension of the length of the in tervals between the moments, at which the sentinels successive ly passed their door. The prisoners then began to walk within their room, at the same pace with that of their watchmen : the sound of their feet being mutually heard ; and all passing by the glass door the same way, at the same time. The prisoners in this manner took two turns across the room, while a sentinel took one through the entry. This difference of time gave them all the opportunities, which they enjoyed, for using their gimblet. General Wadsworth, being of the middle stature, could, while standing on the floor, only reach the ceiling with the ends of his fingers. But Major Burton was very tall, and could reach it con veniently; so as to use the gimblet without the aid of a chair. 188 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. This was a very fortunate circumstance ; as it saved appearances, and not improbably prevented the discovery, to which they were exposed from so many sources. Accordingly, whilst the garrison was under arms on the parade, and their servants were purpos e- ly sent away on errands, the gentlemen began their walk, and passed by the glass door with the sentinels. General Wadsworth then walked on ; but Major Burton, stopping short in the proper spot, perforated the ceiling with his gimblet, in sufficient season to join General Wadsworth on his return. Again they passed the door, and returned, as if by mere accident : when the ceiling was in the same manner perforated again. This process was repeat ed until a sufficient number of holes were bored. The intersti ces in the mean time were cut through with a pen-knife ; the wounds in the ceiling, which were small, being carefully covered with a paste of chewed bread, almost of the same colour with that of the board. The dust, made by the gimblet, was also care fully swept from the floor. In this manner they completely avoided suspicion, either from the sentinels, the servants, or the gentlemen by whom they were visited. In the course of three weeks a board was entirely cut asunder, except a small part at each corner, which was left for the purpose of holding the sever ed piece in its proper place, lest some accident should open the passage prematurely. During all this time the prisoners had watched every thing, which related to the return of the privateer, in which they were to be embarked. They had, also, made every unsuspicious inquiry in their power, while occasionally conversing with their visitors, and with the servants, concerning the situation of the exteriour part of the fort ; the ditch, the position of the Chevaux-de-frise", the frais- ing, the posting of the outer sentinels, and piquet-guard. The scraps of information, which were obtained in this cautious manner. General Wadsworth, who was tolerably well acquainted with the place, was able to put together in such a manner, as to form a com plete view of the whole ground; to fix with precision the place. where they should attempt to cross the wall ; where, if separated by accident, they should meet again ; and to determine on several LETTER XIX. 189 other objects, of the same general nature. Major Burton, whose first acquaintance with Bagaduce commenced when he was land ed as a prisoner, was less able to form correct views concerning these subjects; and laboured, therefore, under disadvantages, which might prove serious. The privateer was now daily expected. It is hardly necessary to observe, that the prisoners regarded the moment of her ap proach with extreme anxiety. They wished for a dark, and bois terous night, to conceal their attempt, and to escape from the ob servation of their guard ; but determined, that, if such an oppor tunity should not be furnished before the return of the privateer, to seize the best time, which should occur. A part of the meat, supplied for their daily meals, they laid up, and dried, and pre served the crust of their bread, to sustain them on their projected excursion. They also made, each a large skewer of strong wood ; with which they intended to fasten the corner of a large bed- blanket to one of the stakes in the fraising, on the top of the wall ; in order to let themselves down more easily into the ditch. When their preparations were finished, a whole week elapsed without a single favourable night. Their anxiety became intense. The weather became warm ; and the butter, which had been ac cidentally attached to some of the bread, employed as paste to cover the holes in the ceiling, spread along the neighbouring parts of the board, and discoloured them to a considerable extent. This fact alarmed them not a little ; particularly when, their vis itors were now and then gazing around the room, in which they were confined. Nor were their apprehensions at all lessened by several incidental expressions of some British officers, which to the jealous minds of the prisoners seemed to indicate, that their design was discovered. On the afternoon of June 1 8th the sky was overcast. At the close of evening, thick clouds from the South brought on an unu sual darkness. The lightning began to blaze with intense splen dour, and speedily became almost incessant. About eleven o'clock, the flashes ceased. The prisoners sat up till this time ; apparently playing at cards, but really waiting for the return of Vol. II. 25 190 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS, absolute darkness. Suddenly rain began to descend in torrents. The darkness was profound. The propitious moment, for which they had so long waited with extreme solicitude, had, as they be* lieved, finally come, and more advantageously than could have been reasonably expected. They, therefore, went immediately to bed ; while the sentinel was looking through the glass door; and extinguished their candles. They then immediately rose, and dressed themselves. General Wadsworth, standing in a chair, attempted to cut the corner of the board, which had been left, to prevent the severed piece from falling; but found that he made a slow progress. Major Burton then took the knife ; and within somewhat less than an hour com pleted the intended opening. The noise, attending this opera tion, was Considerable ; but was drowned by the rain upon the roof. Burton ascended first; and, being a large man, forced his way through the hole with difficulty. By agreement he was to proceed along the joists, till he reached the middle entry ; where he was to wait for his companion. The fowls, which roosted above these rooms, gave notice of his passage by their cackling ; but it was unheeded, and perhaps unheard, by the sentinels. As soon as this noise ceased, General Wadsworth put his blanket through the hole; fastened it with a skewer; and attempted with this aid to make his way through the passage, standing in a chair below. But he found his arm weaker, and of less service, than he had expected. He did not accomplish his design without ex treme difficulty. But the urgency of the case reanimated his mind, invigorated his limbs ; and enabled him, at length, to over come every obstacle. The auspicious rain, in the mean time, roaring incessantly on the roof of the building, entirely concealed the noise, which he made during this part of his enterprize, and which in a common season must certainly have betrayed him. When the General/had reached the middle entry, he could not find his companion./ After searching for him several minutes in vain, he perceived the air, blowing in through the door of the en try ; and concluded, that Major Burton had already gone out, and left the door open. He, therefore, gave over the search ; and LETTER XIX. 191 proceeded to take care of himself. After passing through the door he felt his way along the Eastern side, the Northern end, and a part of the Western side of the building; walking directly under the sheet of water, which poured from the roof, that he might avoid impinging against any person, accidentally in his way ; a misfortune, to which he was entirely exposed by the ex treme darkness of the night. After he had reached the Western side of the building, he made his way toward the neighbouring wall of the fort ; and attempted to climb the bank : but the ascent being steep, and the sand giv ing way, he found it impossible to reach the top. He then folt out an oblique path ; and ascended to the top ; as from his win dow he had observed the soldiers do, when they went out to man the wall. After he had gained the top, he proceeded to the spot on the North Bastion, where Burton and himself had agreed to cross the wall, if no accident should intervene- When he had arrived at this place, and was endeavouring to discover the sentry boxes, that he might creep between them, across the top of the wall ; the guardhouse door on the opposite side pf the fort was thrown open; and the sergeant of the guard called " Relief; turn out." Instantly there was a scrambling on the gorge of the bas tion, opposite to that, where he now was. This scrambling he knew must be made by Burton. The rain, in the mean time, kept the sentinels within their boxes ; and made such a noise on them, that they could not hear that which was made by the prisoners. In this critical moment no time was to be lost. The refief guard was approaching. General Wadsworth made all haste,. therefore, to get himself with his heavy blanket, across the parapet, upon the fraising, which was on the exterjour margipqf the wall : a measure indispensable, to prevent the relief from treading on him ; as they came round on the top of the wall ; and fi§, barely effected it during the time, in which the relief was shifting the sentinels. At the same time he fastened, with the skewer, the corner of his blanket round a picket of the fraising ; so that it might hang at the greatest length beneath him. After the relief had passed on, the General with great difficulty, arising particular- 192 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. ly from the lameness of his arm, slid with his feet foremost off the ends of the pickets of the fraising ; clinging with his arms and hands to the ends ; thus bringing himself underneath the pickets, so as to get hold of the blanket, hanging below. Then he let himself down by the blanket, until he reached the corner, nearest to the ground. From this he dropped, without injury, on the berme; and within the Chevaux-de-frise, which lay on the berme. Leaving his blanket suspended from the fraising, he crept into the Chevaux-de-frise, nearest to the spot, where he had descended ; and moved softly along to the next angle. Here he remained without noise, or motion, until the relief, having gone round the walls, and out of the gate, to relieve the sentinels without the abattis, should have passed by. As soon as he had heard them pass, and before the sentinels had become accustom ed to noises around them, he crept softly down into the ditch ; went out at the water course, between the sentry boxes ; and descended the declivity of the hill, on which the fort stood, into the open field. Finding himself fairly without the fort, and without the line of sentries, and perceiving no evidence that he had been discovered, he could scarcely persuade himself, that the whole adventure was not a dream ; from which he might soon awake, and find himself still in his prison. Both the rain, and the darkness, continued. He groped his way, therefore, among rocks, stumps, and brush, very leisurely, to an old guard-house on the shore of the back cove. This build ing had been agreed upon between the prisoners as their place of rendezvous, if any accident should separate them. After search ing, and waiting, for his companion half an hour in vain, he pro ceeded onward to the cove. The time was happily that of low water. Here he drew off his shoes and stockings ; took his hat from the skirt of his coat, to which hitherto it had been pinned : girded up his clothes ; and began to cross the water, which was about a mile in breadth. Fortunately he found it no where more than three feet in depth. Having safely arrived at the opposite shore, and put on his stockings, and shoes, he found the rain be ginning to abate, and the sky becoming less dark. Still he saw nothing of his companion. LETTER XIX. 193 It was now about two o'clock in the morning. General Wads worth had left the fort a mile and a half behind him ; and had perceived no noise, which indicated, that the enemy had discov ered his escape. His own proper course now lay, for about a mile, up a very gently sloping acclivity ; on the summit of which was a road, formerly cut, under his direction, for the purpose of moving heavy cannon. The whole ascent was overspread with trees, blown down by the wind : and to gain the summit cost him the labour of at least an hour. At length he reached the road ; but, after keeping it about half a mile, determined to betake him self to the woods, and make his way through them to the river. Here the day dawned ; and the rain abated. Here, also, he heard the reveille beat at the fort. He reached the Eastern shore of the Penobscot, just below the lower Narrows, at sun rise; and found a small canoe at the very spot, where he first came to the river. But he was afraid to cross it in this place, lest the inhab itants on the opposite shore, through fear of the enemy, or hostil ity to him, should carry him back to the fort ; or lest their kind ness, if they should be disposed to befriend him, should prove their ruin. He, therefore, made the best of his way up the river, at the foot of the bank ; and kept as near, as he could, to the wa ter's edge ; that the flood tide, which was now running, might cover his steps, and prevent his course from being pursued by blood-hounds, kept at the fort. In this manner, also, he escaped the notice of the inhabitants, living on the Eastern bank of the river. About seven o'clock in the morning the sun began to shine ; and the sky became clear. At this time he had reached a place, just below the Upper-narrows ; seven miles from the fort. Here it was necessary for him to cross the river. At a small distance he perceived a salmon net stretched from a point, thickly cover ed with bushes, and a canoe lying on the shore. He therefore determined, after having cut a stout club, to lie by in the thicket, in order to rest himself, dry his clothes, and discover the persons who should come to take fish from the net ; that he might decide on the safety, or danger, of making himself known. In this situ- 194 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. ation, he had spent near an hour, and made considerable progress in drying his clothes ; not, however, without frequently looking down the river to see whether his enemies were pursuing him ; when to his unspeakable joy he saw his friend Burton advancing towards him in the track, which he had himself taken. The meeting was mutually rapturous ; and the more so, as each be lieved the other to have been lost. Major Burton, after having passed through the hole in the ciel- ing, made his way directly into the second entry without interrup tion. As he had been able to escape ftom the cieling, only by the assistance of General Wadsworth, he concluded, early, that his friend would be unable to make his way through the same passage, and, rationally determining it to be better, that one should regain his liberty than that both should be confined in a British jail, made no stop, to learn what had become of his com panion. Passing out of the Eastern door, (the same which Gen eral Wadsworth had selected,) he entered the area of the fort, taking the most watchful care to avoid the sentry-boxes. The night was so intensely dark, that this was a matter of no small difficulty. Fortunately, however, he avoided them all; and steered his course, providentially, to the North-Eastern curtain. At the moment of his arrival the door of the guard-house was thrown open, and the relief ordered to turn out. Burton heard the orders indistinctly ; and supposed, that himself, or General Wadsworth, (if he had been able to make his way out of the bar rack,) was discovered. He leaped therefore from the wall ; and fell into the arms of a Chevaux-de-frise, containing only four sets of pickets. Had there been six, as is sometimes the case, he must have fallen upon the points of some of them, and been kill ed outright. Perceiving that he was not injured by the fall, he flung himself into the ditch ; and, passing through the abattis, es caped into the open ground. As he had no doubt, that either himself or General Wadsworth was discovered, and knew that, in either case, he should be closely pursued, he used the utmost ex pedition. LETTER XIX. 195 It had been agreed by the prisoners, that, if they should get out of the fort, and in this enterprise should be separated from each other, they should direct their course by the wind. Unfor tunately, the gale, which in the afternoon and early part of the evening, had blown from the South, shifted, without being observ ed by Burton, to the East. Of the region round about him, ex cept so far as General Wadsworth had described it to him, he was absolutely ignorant. In these unfortunate circumstances, instead of taking the direction, which he had intended, he pointed his course towards a piquet guard, kept near the isthmus ; and came almost upon a centinel, before he discovered his danger. Happi ly, however, he perceived a man at a small distance in motion ; and dropped softly upon the ground.* The movements of the man soon convinced Burton, that he was a centinel, and that he belonged to the piquet. By various means the two friends had made themselves acquainted with the whole routine of the duty, performed by the garrison. Burton, therefore, from these cir cumstances discerned in a moment where he was, and determined to avail himself of the discovery. Accordingly, whenever the centinel moved from him, he softly withdrew ; and at length got clear of his disagreeable neighbour. He then entered the water on the side of the isthmus next to the river, with the hope of be ing able to advance in it so far above the picket, as to land again undiscovered. The undertaking proved very hazardous, as well as very difficult. It was the time of low water. The rocks were numerous in his course ; and the river between them was deep. A great quantity of sea-weed also encumbered his progress. He swam, and climbed, and waded, alternately, for the space of an hour; and having made in this manner a circuit, which, though small, he thought would be sufficient to avoid the guard, betook himself to the shore. Here, chilled with this long continued cold bathing, and excessively wearied by exertion, he began his course through the forest ; directing himself, as well as he could, towards the path, which had been taken by General Wadsworth. After * Major Burton dropped a glove in this spot; which, being found in the morning, discovered, thus far, the course which he had pursued in making his escape. 196 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. walking several miles through the same obstructions, which had so much embarrassed his friend, he reached it, and without any further trouble rejoined the General. After their mutual congratulations, the'two friends, as they saw no persons appear, went down to the canoe ; and, finding in it a suit of oars, pushed it into the water. , Burton informed General Wadsworth, that a party of the enemy was in pursuit of them, and that their barge would soon come round the point below; and therefore proposed, that, instead of crossing the river directly, they should take an oblique course, by which they might avoid being discovered. Not long after the barge came in sight, mov ing moderately up the river, and distant from them about a mile. At this time the canoe was near half a mile from the Eastern shore ; but, being hidden by some bushes on another point, es caped the eyes of their pursuers. Just at the moment the crew of the barge, having rested for a minute on their oars, tacked, and rowed to the Eastern shore : when one of the men went up to a house, standing on the bank. The two friends, seeing this, plied their oars to the utmost ; and, when the barge put off again, had it in their power to reach the Western shore without any possible obstruction. As they approached a landing place, they saw a number of peo-. pie. To avoid an interview with these strangers, they changed their course ; and landed on the North side of a creek, where they were entirely out of their reach, and safe from their suspi cion. After they had made fast the canoe, they steered their course directly into the wilderness ; leaving the barge advancing up the river, but appearing to have made no discovery. The prospect of a final escape was now very hopeful : but, as there could be no safety in keeping the rout along the shore, since they undoubted ly would be way-laid in many places, they determined to take a direct course through the forests, to avoid inhabitants, and pre vent a pursuit. Accordingly, they steered towards the head of St. George's river. This they were enabled to do by the aid of a pocket compass, which Burton had fortunately retained in his LETTER XIX. 1 97 possession. Their pockets supplied them with provisions ; home ly enough indeed, but such as satisfied hunger, and such as suc cess rendered delightful. Two showers fell upon them in the course of the day : and the heat of the sun was at times in tense. Their passage, also, was often incommoded by the usual obstructions of an American forest; fallen trees, marshy grounds, and other inconveniences of the like nature. But, with all these difficulties, they travelled twenty-five miles by sunset. At the approach of night, they made a fire with the aid of a flint, which Major Burton had in his pocket, and some punk ; a substance, formed by a partial decomposition of the heart of the maple tree ; which easily catches, and long retains, even the slightest spark. But, as they had no axe, and as they did not commence this business sufficiently early, the wood, of which their fire was made, being of a. bad quality, burnt ill ; and was ex tinguished long before the morning arrived. The night was cold^ notwithstanding the heat of the preceding day. Both extremes were equally injurious to the travellers ; and increased not a lit tle the lameness, and soreness, of their limbs. General Wads worth suffered severely. He had been a long time in confine ment; and had of course been prevented from taking any vigor* ous exercise. He was also possessed of a constitution, much less firm than that of his companion ; and was much less accustomed to the hardships of travelling in a forest. For these reasons they made a slow progress, during the morning of the second day. By degrees, however, the General began to recover strength : and before evening they advanced, though not without much difficul ty, twelve or fifteen miles. The sufferings of the preceding night effectually warned them to begin the employment of collecting fu el in better season. They had, therefore, a comfortable fire. Still, the latter part of the night was very cold and distressing. On the third day General Wadsworth was so lame, and had suffered so much from this uncomfortable pilgrimage, that he was able to make very little progress. After many efforts, he pro posed to stop in the wilderness, and wait for such relief, as his friend, proceeding onward to the nearest settlements, might be Vol. II. 26 198 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. able to bring him. Major Burton cut the matter short by an ab solute refusal to leave him behind, in circumstances so hazardous. At length they determined to refresh themselves with a little sleep, and then to recommence their progress. This determina tion was a happy one ; for they found their sleep, in the genial warmth of the day, in a high degree restorative, and invigorating. They were able to travel with more and more ease ; and were not a little animated with the consciousness, that their pilgrim age was drawing towards a close. About six, P. M. they discov ered from an eminence the ascent of a smoke, and other signs of human habitations ; and soon, to their unspeakable joy, arrived at the place, to which they had originally directed their course : the Upper Settlements on the river St. George. The inhabitants flocked about them with a joy, scarcely infe riour to theirs ; and not only hailed them as friends long lost, but as men dropped from the clouds. Their surprise, and their affection, were equally intense : and their minds laboured for modes, in which they might exhibit sufficient kindness to their guests. At this friendly place they took horses ; and, accompanied by all the inhabitants, who were able to bear arms, proceeded down the river, within three miles of the house, in which General Wadsworth had been taken prisoner. Here they crossed the river ; and took up their lodging on the other side in a very com fortable inn. Their company had by this time increased to thir ty men. Half of this force General Wadsworth gave to his faith ful friend; who was then distant only three miles from his own house ; a stone fort, anciently erected as a defence against the savages. It was naturally suspected by both gentlemen, that concealed parties of the enemy would lie in wait for them ; and, if possible, carry them back again to their prison. Nor was the suspicion unfounded. Such a party actually waylaid Major Burton upon his return to his family : and, had he not been ac companied by this body of armed men, he would again have been taken. Finding themselves frustrated, the lurking party seized a trading vessel, lying in St. George's river ; and returning to Bag- LETTER XIX. 199 aduce, carried the first information to the fort concerning the prisoners. As to General Wadsworth, he was now in a settlement, where he could not be attacked with any hope of success, unless by a strong detachment of the enemy. He therefore continued at this hospitable inn, until the next day but one. Then, having re covered one of his horses, and renewed his strength and spirits, he set out for Falmouth, (Portland;) where he hoped to find Mrs. Wadsworth. During the first day's journey he was accompa nied by a small guard. From this time he was safe from the lurking parties of the enemy ; and proceeded to Falmouth as his own convenience permitted. Mrs. Wadsworth and Miss Fenno had, however, sailed for Boston before his arrival. On their passage they were overtaken by a violent storm ; and barely escaped shipwreck. The vessel put into Portsmouth in distress ; and neither of the ladies was ac quainted with a single inhabitant. They took lodgings, therefore, at an inn. When they had in some measure recovered them selves from the anxiety and distress, produced by the perilous situation, from which they had just escaped, they found them selves in a new scene of trouble. Mrs. Wadsworth had left all the specie in her possession with the General, when she visited him at Penobscot : and, during her residence in the District of Maine, the Continental bills of credit had lost their currency. She was, therefore, without money, and without any known friends. After meditating for some time on various expedients to extricate herself, and her friend, from this embarrassment, not a little per plexing to a female mind, she recollected, that she had seen at New- Haven in the year 1770 Mr. Buckminster, then a tutor in Yale College, and now one of the ministers of Portsmouth. From this gentleman the ladies, after having made him ac quainted with their circumstances, received every assistance, which they could wish. When they were ready to proceed on their journey, he furnished a carriage, to convey them to Newbu- ryport. Here they met with the same friendly offices, and were supplied with the means of proceeding pleasantly to Boston ; 200 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. where the distresses of both Mrs. Wadsworth, and the General, were speedily terminated by his arrival. I shall only add, that I received an account of all these facts from the persons principally concerned -T and am, Sir, Yours, &c. LETTER XX. Vernon— Tolland— Stafford— Mineral Spring— South-Brimfield— Kittery— York- Wells — Kennebunk — Portland. Dear Sir, In the year 1807, I set out September 15th, on a third journey to the District of Maine, in company with two alumni of Yale College. We reached Hartford the first day; and the day follow ing, passing through East-Hartford, Vernon, Tolland, Stafford, and South-Brimfield, arrived at Brimfield in the evening, thirty-six miles. On the 1 7th we entered the great Western road of Mas sachusetts at Brookfield; and that night reached Worcester, twen ty-eight miles. The next day, taking the same road, which I took in my first journey, we proceeded to Concord : thirty-two miles : and the next day, to Andover : twenty-one. Here we continued until the Tuesday following. We then rode to Exeter; and the next day (September 23d) passed through Portsmouth to York. During this part of the journey I made the following ob servations. The country between New-Haven and Vernon had been gene rally, and regularly, improved in its appearance. Vernon, twelve miles North-East from Hartford, is a township, lying partly on the Western side, and summits, of the Lyme range, and partly on the marginal slope, and plain, below. The former of these divisions is good grazing land. The latter has a warm, kind soil, well suited to grain. The acclivity of the hills is finely prospective. The inhabitants are farmers, in comfortable and thriving circumstances. Their Church is without a steeple. Vernon was originally a part of Bolton ; and in 1810 contained 827 inhabitants. A cotton manufactory, for a long time the only successful one,* established «.t» Connecticut, has been set up here by an English man, named Warburton. As he began this business with bor- *1807. 202 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. rowed stock, and is now the sole proprietor of the manufactory, the mill-seat on which it stands, and a valuable house, together with several other buildings in the vicinity ; he must, I think, have pursued it with advantage. The cotton spun here, I am in formed, is sold chiefly in yarn. Tolland is a pretty town, situated in an open valley on the Lyme range. The soil is good; and particularly friendly to grass. The town is chiefly built on a single street, running East and West, sufficiently level, and containing about fifty well-appearing houses; a Church, Court-house, and Gaol. The inhabitants of Tolland have been distracted by political, and religious, divisions. The number of inhabitants in this township was, in 1756, 917 ; of whom 15 were blacks: in 1774, 1,262: blacks 15: in 1790, 1,538 : in 1800, 1,638 : blacks 25 : slaves 3 ; in 1810, 1,610, and no slaves. Stafford lies North-Eastward of Tolland, on the same hills. The soil is hard, and indifferent ; the surface rough, and some times romantic ; and the houses, taken together, moderately good. It contains two parishes. In the Eastern parish there is a loosely built village upon a street, running North and South over very elevated ground. The Church is without a steeple.* The prin cipal part of this township, and of Tolland also, is distributed into farms. On the bank of Willimantic river, a romantic millstream, which is one of the head waters of the Shetucket, and runs through this township, is a mineral spring, long since celebrated for its me dicinal virtues. These waters are impregnated with iron, held in solution by carbonic acid gas. They are remarkably distinguish ed for curing the salt rheum. They have also produced the best effects on contracted joints, and enervated muscles. The resort to them, formerly great, was for many years interrupted for want of convenient accommodations. It has again become considera ble within a very few years, in consequence of the commendable exertions of Doctor Willard. * Since this was written, another church has been built.— Pub. LETTER XX. 203 Stafford abounds in iron ore ; and contains two furnaces, prin cipally employed in casting hollow ware. A small volcanic ex plosion took place a few years since, in one of the hills, belong ing to this range, about three miles West of the Spring. The inhabitants of this township, also, have been divided by religious and political contentions ; and, like those of Tolland, have very little cause to congratulate themselves on the moral in fluence of these divisions. In the year 1756, Stafford contained 1,000 inhabitants : no blacks: in 1774, 1,334: 1 black: in 1790, 1,885: in 1800, 2,345: 14 blacks : no slaves: in 1810, 2,235. The Church in the East ern parish has no steeple. South Brimfield lies immediately North of Stafford on the same range of hills ; and is the Southernmost township in the County of Hampshire, in this quarter. Its soil, surface, and other char acteristics, are nearly the same with those of most other towns in this neighbourhood. We had a romantic view of the Church which is a neat building, surrounded by a hamlet of decent hou ses, rising beyond the waters of a beautiful lake, seen in the half faded lustre of a charming evening. This township was incor porated in 1762; and contained, in 1790, 98 dwelling-houses, and 606 inhabitants; in 1800, 774 inhabitants ; and, in 1810, 645. Brimfield I shall describe hereafter. From Brookfield onward we found the country generally improved ; particularly Worces ter, and Plaistow. The latter of these townships had become a very pleasant collection of farms, strongly indicating the prosper ity of the proprietors. At Tewksbury we saw a field of hops, which the owner and his family were gathering. By him we were informed, that the best lands in this township yield from one thousand, to fifteen hundred pounds an acre ; and that they had been sold, during the-presentj autumn, for six pence a pound. An acre yields, therefore, from #83 34, to #125. At Exeter, on a visit to Judge P. we ate fine grapes. He in formed us, that they grew here luxuriantly. This is the most Northern situation, in which I have known foreign grapes cultiva- 204 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. ted with success ; although I have not a doubt, that, with suitable care, they would flourish in the District of Maine. Peaches fail here ; principally from shooting out their buds too early, and thus exposing them to succeeding frosts. The same misfortune befel peaches at New-Haven in the year 1806. A course of warm weather in February protruded the buds so far, that the frosts of the two following months, which were very severe, destroyed them ; and they fell to the ground without blossoming. A heap of snow raised around the tree in the proper season might, per haps, prevent this too early vegetation. From Portsmouth we crossed the Pascataqua to Kittery, one of the most ancient townships in the District of Maine, bounded by this river on the South- West, and the ocean on the East ; and in corporated in 1653. The soil is indifferently good ; and the sur face not unpleasant. It is wholly distributed into plantations ; and contains three parishes, three Congregations, and a society of Friends. The number of inhabitants in this township was, in 1790, 3,250; in 1800, 3,114 ; and, in 1810, 2,019.* York borders upon Kittery, and on the ocean ; and is one of the most ancient settlements in New-England having been begun in 1630. Its original name was Agamenticus, from the mountain so often mentioned in these letters. Afterwards it was called Gorgiana by Sir Ferdinando Gorges ; who intended to make it the seat of his government. Accordingly he made it a Corpora tion, resembling an English borough, and under the government of a Mayor, eight Aldermen, and a Recorder. It received the name of York in 1652; when the Colony of Massachusetts Bay assumed the jurisdiction of Maine. The face of this township, and the manner of settlement, wear a general resemblance of Kittery. The Northern part of it, however, is so covered with rocks and stones, as to be of little use for any thing, beside tlie production of wood. It is no small misfortune to the inhabitants, that thousands of acres, which are now bare, and yield a stinted subsistence to their cattle, were not left in their forested state. The Southern division has a better aspect ; yet even this appears ' Elliot. LETTER XX. 205 naked, and bleak. The forests are not only cut down; but there appears little reason to hope, that they will ever grow again. In the mind of an American, frequent forests, and frequent as well as fine groves, are almost necessarily associated with all his ideas of fertility, warmth, agricultural prosperity, and beauty of land scape. Nor can he easily believe, that a country, destitute of trees, is not destitute of fertility. The cultivated part of this township seems not to be unproductive. Yet from the extensive nakedness, which meets the eye, it is difficult for the imagination not to pronounce it barren. The town of York wears a strong appearance of stillness, and solitude. The houses, with a few exceptions, together with the out buildings, and fences, have in a peculiar degree, an air of an tiquity ; and look, as if they had met with but few changes for a long period. From the aspect of every thing around him a trav eller would expect to find, here, the sober manners, brought with them by the first settlers of New-England ; and, I suspect, would not be disappointed. Over York river, which is principally an arm of the sea in the Southern part of this township, is a bridge, two hundred and seven ty feet in length, excluding the abutments. It stands upon thir teen piers of wood : each containing four posts, driven into the earth. This bridge was contrived by Major Samuel Sewall of this town, formerly mentioned in these letters; and was the first structure of the kind, erected in the Ameriean States. The township of York is esteemed healthy. By an estimate of more than thirty years, one, in six or seven of all who have di ed, has passed seventy years of age ; and several have reached the borders of one hundred years. In the first parish, two minis ters occupied the desk one hundred and six years. The Rev. Samuel Moody began his ministry in 1700, and finished it, togeth er with his life, in 1748. The Rev. Isaac Lyman, who succeed ed him in 1749, was living in 1806. There is a spot in this township, which, from the following fact, is called the Devil's Invention. An inhabitant offended with one of his neighbours determined to revenge himself by starving two Vol. II. 27 206 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. of his children ; boys between six and nine years of age. To ac complish this design, he built a small enclosure of logs at the side of a precipice. The logs above jutted over those below; so aa to make it impossible to escape by climbing. When the work was finished, he persuaded the children to go out with him, to hunt birdsnests. Having led them to this spot, he forced them into the enclosure, and left them to their fate. Necessity can sharpen the wits even of children. The little fellows, finding no egress at the top, began to look for one at the bottom ; and, un der the direction of mere nature, scratched a passage beneath the the logs, through which they escaped. As they knew not the way to the town, they wandered three days about the fields, and forests ; and were, at length, led by the noise of the ocean to the shore. Here they were found alive by some of the inhabitants, most of whom had, during this time, been employed in a diligent search for the unfortunate sufferers. This event took place in 1676. As Philip's war was raging at the time ; it is not improba ble, that the mischief was contrived with an expectation, that the disaster would be attributed to savage incursion ; and cease so soon to be an object of public attention, that no effectual attempts would be made to find them. The villain, who formed, and supposed that he had done every thing to execute, this diabolical purpose, was sentenced to re ceive thirty stripes, " well laid on ;" to pay the father five pounds, and the Treasurer of the County ten ; to pay the char ges of imprisonment ; and to remain a close prisoner during the pleasure of the Court. Few inventions have, I think, been more worthy of the Devil, than this. York in ancient times was frequently invaded by the Savages. On the fifth of February, 1692, a body of these people, headed by a number of Frenchmen, entered the town upon snow-shoes, early on Monday morning; burnt all the houses North of York river, except four, which were garrisoned; killed about seventy- five persons ; and carried as many more into captivity. Among' the slain was the Rev. Shubael Dummer, their minister. By this disaster the town was almost entirely ruined ; and came very ear being finally deserted. LETTER XX. 207 York is the shire-town of the County, which bears its name. It contains a Court House, and a Gaol. In 1764, the number of inhabitants was 2,298 ; in 1790, 2,900; in 1800, 2,776; and, in 1810,3,046. Before the American Revolution the people of York employed from twenty to thirty vessels in the West Indian trade, and other business: but, their vessels being either lost or destroyed, the trade has never revived to its former extent. The cod-fishery might be carried on here with advantage ; but is not, from the want either of property, or enterprize. The Rev. Mr. Moody, formerly minister of this town, was em inently distinguished for his piety, and usefulness as a minister; and scarcely less for those peculiar traits which constitute origin ality of character. September 24, we passed through Wells, and Kennebunk to Saco. Wells is an extensive township, lying immediately North of York. It was originally named Webhannet. It spreads ten miles along the coast, and seven into the interiour. Its surface, towards the Southern boundary, resembles the Northern parts of York ; but the Northern and Western parts are a yellow-pine plain, sandy and unproductive. One third of the township, only, is considered as fit for agricultural purposes. The aspect of Wells is much less pleasant than that of York : a great part of it being a continued plain ; with very little variety, except what is furnished in a few instances by the appearance of the ocean. The houses are built in a scattered manner on the road, through out the whole extent of the first parish ; with only the excep tion of a small, decent village toward the Northern limit, in which, I presume, some commercial business is carried on. The same solitary feelings, the same silence, the same sense of being sequestered from mankind, accompanied us until we arrived at Kennebunk; and they were not lessened by the magnificent view, now and then presented by the illimitable ocean on the East. This township was granted in the year 1643 ; and incorporated in 1653. It has often been distressed by the savages. In the 208 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. year 1692, it was invaded by an army of three or four hundred French and Indians, under the command of Labroczee, a French man, and Madockewando, a noted Savage warrior. The assault lasted two days : Dut the enemy was finally driven off by the gal lantry of the inhabitants ; and thus the town escaped from entire destruction. Wells contained, in 1790, 3,070 inhabitants ; in 1800, 3,692; and, in 1810, 4,489. Kennebunk is the second parish of Wells. We found this set tlement materially improved in its buildings, and in its business. The commerce of York and Kennebunk may be estimated in some measure by the following table of duties: — Years. Kennebunk. York. 1801 - - #44,217 - - #11,303 1802 - - 46,188 - - 8,960 1803 - 40,969 - - 15,710 1804 - - 33,962 - - 17,504 1805 - - 53,550 - - 16,840 1806 - - 81,273 - 10,926 1807 - - 52,642 - - 25,877 1808 - - 34,667 - - 16,498 1809 - - 29,501 - - 17,113 1810 - - 20,820 - - 44,141 The country between Kennebunk and Portland I shall describe hereafter. No place, in our route, hitherto, could for its improvements be compared with Portland. We found the buildings extended quite to the cove, doubled in their number and still more increased in their appearance. Few towns in New-England are equally beau tiful and brilliant. Its wealth, and business, are probably quadru pled. Its commerce with the interiour of New-Hampshire and Vermont particularly the Northern parts of these States, had greatly increased ; and will in all probability continue to increase. The produce of these tracts is conveyed to market chiefly in sleighs. , Very frequently the snow fails, for a considerable dis tance before they reach Boston : where as in most cases it extends quite to Portland. This fact will, of itself, go far towards secur- LETTER XX. 209 ing to Portland the commerce in question. At the same time, it is so far advanced beyond the other settlements in Maine, that it will probably continue to command, at least, the commerce of this District for a long period. Portland* contains three Presbyterian, one Episcopal, one Baptist and one Methodist, Congregations. Such a collection of inhabitants, gathered by business, and by accident, from many quarters, must be supposed to bring with them a corresponding mixture of principles ; and, in many instances, may easily be believed scarcely to have formed any principles at all. Persons of the latter description seat themselves on commercial ground, to amass property ; not to find the way to heaven ; and of such persons will no small part of such an aggregation ordinarily con sist. To such an unfortunate, moral state of society is sometimes happily opposed that peculiar influence in favour of religion, which -is exerted, too rarely I confess, by superiour talents, unit ed with superiour piety. On such efforts heaven has hereto fore smiled with distinguished benignity. Were they happily to be made here, they could, I think, hardly fail of success. A number of gentlemen in this town have erected an observa tory on the Eastern part, of the peninsula. It is the frustum of an octagonal pyramid ; and is ascended by successive flights of stairs; the last of them spiral. The design of erecting this struct ure is to descry vessels, off at sea. It is the only work of the kind, so far as my knowledge extends, in the United States. From this elevation there is a noble prospect of the interiour, particu- of Mount Washington ; rising at the distance of seventy miles, far above all the other mountains in prospect with a sublimity, which mocks description. I am, Sir, yours, &c. * 1807. LETTER XXI. Falmouth— North-Yarmouth— Freeport— Brunswick — Bowdom College. Dear Sir, We left Portland on the 25th, after dinner; and passed through a part of Falmouth, and North-Yarmouth, to Freeport ; having travelled this day, from Saco, thirty miles. The road from Port land, Eastward, crosses the cove. Since my former journey to this town a new toll-bridge bas been built over this basin ; and another near the mouth of the river Stroudwater ; which, beside shortening the distance, conducts all the travelling on the great Eastern road through Portland. The difference of the distance I should judge to be about four miles. The part of Falmouth, which lies East of Portland, exhibits nothing to gratify the eye of a traveller. The houses are gene rally indifferent ; the surface undulating indeed, but rugged and forbidding, without any of that beautiful conformation, naturally looked for among hills and vallies ; the soil cold, and lean ; and, the cultivation such, as seems unlikely to render it more fertile. Both the spruce, and the fir, abound here ; but are destitute of that thrifty appearance, which render them so handsome in the neighbourhood of Lancaster. Here, however, I first took a par ticular notice of a silver light, diffused over the leaves of this tree ; peculiarly visible, when it is seen in a point, opposite the sun ; and covering it universally with a very delicate and most beautiful lustre. This, I presume, is the silver fir. I know of no other tree, which can boast of a brilliancy, comparable to this. Here also we found the juniper, in considerable numbers. The utmost height, to which this shrub rises from the surface, is com- ^monly not more, and often less, than eighteen inches. But the shoots which spring up together from one root, are innumerable; and spread in a close compacted mass, like the flower of the this tle, over a spot of ground from three to ten feet in diameter. This shrub is extremely injurious to the farm, and is eradicated with great difficulty. LETTER XXI. 2U North-Yarmouth is a handsome farming township. The sur face is a succession of easy slopes ; the soil good ; and the peo ple are plainly in pleasant circumstances. The township is large ; and every where exhibits this pleasing aspect. About twelve miles from Portland, and not far, I believe, from the centre of the township, a pretty village, surrounding a neat church, crowns the summit of a very handsome rise, about half a mile North of the road. The rest of the township is chiefly filled up with scattered plantations. North- Yarmouth contains three Presbyterian, and one Baptist, Congregations; and was incorporated in 1713. In 1790, the number of inhabitants was 1,970; in 1800, 2,599; and, in 1810, 3,295. Freeport lies immediately East of North- Yarmouth. It is ev ery way less handsome. The ground is much more rough, and apparently less fertile. The inhabitants, however, appear to be thrifty ; and have in many instances built themselves good hous es. A lead mine is said to have been found here. In both these townships, particularly in NorthrYarmouth, the pastures, and meadows, were covered with lively verdure, and the mead ows, frequently, with a good crop of grass. The crops of maize, also, allowing for the coldness of the summer, were good ; and the potatoes were generally so throughout the District. Flour ishing orchards were numerous : and most of the cattle, and sheep, were in good flesh, and of a good size. The horses, which we saw, were rather small ; but appeared to be strong, and hardy. Freeport was incorporated in 1789; and includes one Presby terian Congregation. It contained, in 1790, 1,330 inhabitants ; in 1800, 2,230; and, in 1810,2,184. Brunswick lies North-Eastward from Freeport, and South- Westward of the Androscoggin, and of Merrymeeting Bay, form ed by the junction of that river with the Kennebeck. A consid erable part of this township is a yellow-pine plain ; the soil thin and light, but, like other plains of the same kind, warm, and, when well cultivated, productive. A considerable village is built 212 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. upon the plain ; chiefly on a single street, running Southward from the falls of the Androscoggin about a mile. Towards the Southern extremity of this township stands Bow- doin College : an Institution, incorporated in 1 794, and deriving its name from the Hon. James Bowdoin, late Governour of Mas sachusetts Bay. The present Hon. James Bowdoin, his son, gave, towards the erection of a College in Maine, #10,000 in money and lands. The State of Massachusetts has also given to it six townships in this District. Its funds have been well man aged ; and are already considerable. Its buildings are ,two Col leges, a Chapel, and a Presidential house. One of the Colleges is fifty feet in length, forty in breadth, and three stories high; containing twelve rooms. The other, one hundred feet in length, forty in breadth, and four stories high; containing thirty-two rooms. This building is unfinished ;* and will probably be com pleted the ensuing summer. Both Colleges are good structures of brick. The chapel is small, but sufficiently large for the pres ent state of the institution. It has two stories ; the first of which contains the chapel, properly so called ; the second the library, the philosophical apparatus, and a museum. The library con sists of about fifteen hundred well chosen volumes, well arranged. The apparatus is a valuable collection of the most useful instru ments. This institution, like the University at Cambridge, is encum bered with two legislative bodies ; a board of Trustees ; and a board of Overseers: the former having power to originate, the latter to negative, academical measures. This unfortunate com plication of government renders its whole state uncertain, prolix, and indecisive ; furnishes room for the operation of multiplied personal interests, prejudices, intrigues, and unfortunate com promises ; and, generally, prevents the order, energy, and decis ion, attendant upon a single board. A body of Overseers, occa sionally called together to meddle with the affairs of a College, will usually feel so little interest in them, except at the moment, as never to be in possession of the system, intended to be pursued; * 1807. LETTER XXI. 213 the wisdom, and expediency, of one part of which will often de pend more on its relation to the other parts, than on its own na ture. Often they will not come together, at all, in such numbers as to form a quorum ; and will thus prevent the accomplishment of the business, for which they were summoned. The very num bers, of which they consist, will of course include many, who are incompetent judges of academical concerns ; and many more, who will never take pains to inquire into their nature, or to pos sess themselves of that judgment, which their capacity would in better circumstances enable them to form. Their decisions, therefore, will often be sudden ; often crude, and not unfrequent ly hostile to the very interests, which they would wish to pro mote. To secure the prosperity of such an institution, it is indis pensably necessary, that a system, embracing all its interests for a considerable period at least, should be carefully formed, and closely pursued. All, who are to vote, should distinctly under stand this system ; and, whenever they come to act, should have it fully in their minds ; so as to comprehend readily the relation, which every new measure has to the general scheme, and its proper influence on measures already adopted. This can be done, only by a long continued, and minute acquaintance with the affairs of the institution ; and can never be done by men, who, occupied busily in totally different concerns, come rarely and casually, to the consideration of these. The votes of such men will be governed by the impulse of the moment ; by whim ; by prejudice; by attachment to a friend, or a party ; and sometimes, not improbably, by the mere fact, that their duty requires them to vote : when, perhaps, they are wholly at a loss whether the vote, actually given, will be useful, or mischievous. If such a system be not so pursued ; the interests of a public seminary can never become prosperous, unless by accident, or by the peculiarly mer itorious labours of a wise and vigorous Faculty ; overcoming ma ny disadvantages, and preventing with uncommon prudence, and felicity, the mischievous effects of indigested, desultory regulations. The houses in Brunswick are moderately good. The plain, on which they are principally built, though not fruitful, is well fitted Vol. II. 28 214 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. for the purposes of building, and gardening. A firm sand may usually be rendered fertile, to any degree, by cultivation ; and al ways furnishes the privilege of walking, without the incumbrance of mud. Gardens, also, are always earlier on such ground, than on a more tenacious soil. The commerce of Brunswick is connected with Kennebeck riv er by means of the Androscoggin. The latter of these rivers is crossed between Brunswick and Topsham on a toll bridge ; two miles below which its waters are navigable for small vessels to the Kennebeck. Southward, Brunswick is bounded on Maquoit bay. Both of these waters are too shoal to admit of any considerable navigation. There are three churches in Brunswick : one of them lately erected near the College for the accommodation of the officers and students, and the inhabitants of the village. The village may con tain perhaps fifty houses. Brunswick was incorporated in the year 1 738 ; and, together with all the townships along this coast, suffered in the earlier stages of its settlement, from the depredations of the Savages. In 1 790, Brunswick contained 1,387 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,809 ; and, in 1810,2,682. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XXII. Bath — Woolwich— Dresden— Pittston — Gardiner — Augusta— Hallowell— Litchfield Topsham — the Ameriscoggin — the Kennebeck. Dear Sir, The road from Brunswick to Bath, hitherto customarily used, is in the main a good one ; passing about three miles over the plain already mentioned, and seven more over an undulating ground. A new one is nearly finished in the turnpike manner, which cuts off three miles. Bath is a flourishing town on the Western side of the Kenne beck ; fifteen miles from the mouth of that river. It extends a mile and a half in length, along the river ; and three quarters of a mile in breadth, into the interiour. The township is near six miles in length, and three in breadth ; and contains probably be tween two hundred and two hundred and fifty houses. It in cludes two Congregations, who assemble in two churches ; one of them handsome. The houses are generally neat ; and some of them superiour to this description. The streets run parallel to each other and at right-angles with the river. The town is built on a fertile declivity; rather steep, and interrupted by irregular ities of surface. The prospect from the churches, which stand on the higher parts of the acclivity, is cheerful ; particularly that of the town itself. Bath carrries on a considerable commerce, and wears the aspect of thrift. The Kennebeck is navigable up to Bath for ships of war, carrying forty or fifty guns. But the access for such large vessels is said to be dangerous, unless they are conducted by a skilful pilot. There is an Academy, established here for the education of boys, and another for girls. A greater number of sober, religious people are found in this, than in most other settlements, in simi lar circumstances. In 1790, Bath contained 947 inhabitants; in 1800,1,225; and, in 1810, 2,491. The Kennebeck is here a mile in breadth. 216 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Wc continued at Bath until Monday morning, September 28th ; when, crossing the ferry to Woolwich, we rode through Dresden, and a part of Pittston ; and, crossing the river again, through a part of Gardiner, and through Hallowell, to Augusta. Thence, after taking a view of this town, we returned to Hallowell. Bath ferry is a mile and a half above the town, where the river is three quarters of a mile in breadth. We crossed it safely in a boat of a moderate size ; but not without anxiety. The country, from the ferry to Dresden, along the Eastern bank of the Kenne beck, is universally undulating : the hills of no great height, or extent ; and without any remarkable beauty, or fertility : the sur face, extremely encumbered with rocks and stones ; few of them however large : the soil, loam, abounding in gravel : the forest ' composed chiefly of oaks and pines : the settlements few, scatter ed, and unpromising : and the road difficult and discouraging ; chiefly because it has been very little wrought. The river, with its shores and islands, forms almost the only collection of objects, in view, along this road. The river itself is beautiful ; and is from half a mile to two miles in breadth, in different places. Its shores, except that they are frequently indented by the winding course of the stream, present little variety ; being almost every where sudden acclivities, and generally covered with forest. The islands are also forested ; but are cheerful objects. Of Woolwich I know nothing, except that it was incorporated in 1759, and contained, in 1790, 797 inhabitants; in 1800, 868 ; and, in 1810, 1,050. Dresden lies along the river. The surface to a considerable extent is smooth ; and the soil tolerably good. A moderately well built village stands on the road ; over against which we saw two or three small intervals : the more agreeably as being here very un usual. - Dresden was incorporated in 1794. In 1800 it contained 700 inhabitants ; and, in 1810, 1,096. From Dresden we entered Pittston : our journey still continuing through a country, at times agreeable ; particularly about seven miles above the village of Dresden . Here we left the road in a LETTER XXII. 217 well appearing settlement, and crossed the river again at Smith's ferry. The river at this place is about half a mile wide. We landed a little below a village, commonly called Cobbesconte ; originally named by the Indians Cobbisseconteag ; and known among the neighbouring inhabitants by the abridged name of Cobbisse. This village wears a smart, sprightly appearance. The name of the village is derived from a mill stream, issuing from a small lake, (having the same appellation,) in the township of Winthrop. Pittston originally lay on both sides of the river : but that part of it which is on the Western side, was incorporated in 1 803 by the name of Gardiner. The whole township contain ed, in 1790, 605 inhabitants. Gardiner contains an Episcopal church ; and is possessed of a fund, yielding twenty-eight guineas per annum, for the support of an Episcopal clergyman ; given by Dr. Gardiner, from whom the township was named. The surface, near the river, is generally smoother, and the road better, than most of that, which we had left. There is, however, throughout most of this region, one very disagreeable inequality in the sur face. The smaller rivers, and brooks, flowing generally on ground, considerably elevated above the level of the large rivers, and the ocean, have worn in the neighbourhood of both, ravines ; which, being chiefly formed in clay, (the substratum of almost all this country,) are sudden, deep, and bordered by long and tedious acclivites. In wet seasons, the clay becomes extremely slippery : and, unless a horse is corked, is dangerous both to him and the rider. As these ravines are very frequent, they render travelling exceedingly wearisome. Augusta was the termination of our journey in this quarter. This is the shire town of Kennebeck County. It was formerly a part of Hallowell: and was incorporated in the year 1797. It contains a neat Presbyterian church ; an academy ; a court house, and a goal ; together with a considerable collection of good dwelling houses. These are built partly on a beauti ful plain ; in this country no very common object in the land scape ; and partly on a declivity, descending from this plain to the river. The declivity, like most of those along the Kenne- 218 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. beck, is rather steep. The plain is a neat and smooth ground ; and is elevated one hundred and fifty or two hundred feet above the surface of the river. The prospect around this town, and indeed its whole aspect, is handsome, and very cheerful. Like Hallpwell, the township lies on both sides of the river : the two parts being connected by a wooden bridge, well built on a succes sion of arches. Such a work in a country so recently settled is a very respectable proof of the enterprise, and public spirit, of the inhabitants. Augusta is at the head of ship navigation on the Kennebeck. Brigs of one hundred and fifty tons are loaded here. It contained, in 1800, 1,211 inhabitants; and, in 1810, 1805. From Augusta we returned the same evening to Hallowell ; where we lodged. The road between these towns is very good. Hallowell is a very pretty town, built on an irregular, or rather steep, descent. This slope, though interrupted, is handsome, and furnishes more good building spots, than if it had been an uniform declivity, and at the same time equally steep. Then all the grounds would have descended too rapidly. Now they furnish a succession of level surfaces for gardens, house-plats and court yards ; arid are thus very convenient, as well as sometimes vpry handsome. The streets are both parallel, and right-angled to the river; but, like those of all other towns throughout this country, are irregular. The houses, being generally new and de cent, have the same cheerful appearance, which has been so often remarked. Several of them are handsome, and surrounded by very neat appendages. All the situations on the higher grounds are fine. A more romantic spot is not often found, than that on which stands the house of Mr. V. a descendant of Mr. Hallowell, from whom this town took its name ; inheriting from him, it is said, a large landed estate in this country. He is a native of England ; and has been heretofore a member of the British Parliament. His house stands on one of the elevated levels, mentioned above, where the hill bends from its general Southern direction toward the West, and, forming an obtuse, circular point, furnishes a beautiful Southern; as well as Northern and Eastern, prospect. The river, here ly ing almost immediately below the eye, is a noble object. LETTER XXII. SIS' In the rear, as you recede from the river, but at the side of the house, (the front being Southward, and looking down the river ;) lies a handsome garden, furnishing even at this time of the year, ample proofs of the fertility of the soil. Behind the garden is a wild and solitary valley ; at the bottom of which runs a small mill stream. Its bed is formed, universally, of rocks and stones. In three successive instances strata of rocks cross the stream oblique ly ; and present a face so nearly perpendicular, as to furnish in each instance, a charming cascade. These succeed each other at distances conveniently near; and yet so great, that one of them only can be seen at a time. The remaining course of the stream is an alternation of currents, and handsome basins. On either side, the banks, which are of considerable height, and sometimes steep, formed of rude forested grounds, and moss-grown rocks, are left absolutely in the state of nature. Along the brook Mr. V. has made a convenient foot-way, rather appearing to have been trodden out by the feet of wild animals, than to have been contrived by man, and winding over a succession of stone bridges, so rude and inartificial, as to seem the result of accident, rather than the effect of human labour. With these little exceptions, the whole scene is left, with the best taste, as it was found. A charming change from the cheerfulness of the house, garden and town, and the splendour of the river and its shores, is here expe rienced in a moment. The first step out of the rear of the gar- - den is into wildness, solitude, and gloom. I know not so hand some an appendage of nature to any gentleman's seat in this country. With this interesting family we spent the evening and the suc ceeding morning until 1 1 o'clock ; and enjoyed in a high degree the combined pleasures of intelligence, politeness, and refine ment. Mr. V. had proposed to carry us to a fine view of the country, furnished by a neighbouring eminence : but a mist, ris ing from the river during the night, precluded us from this gratifi cation, until it became so late, that we were obliged to pursue our journey. 220 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Mr. V. with a benevolence highly honourable to him, gives medical advice to the poor; and to patients, whose . diseases are attended with peculiar danger ; but always without any compen sation. At the same time he never suffers his assistance to inter fere either with the business, or the character, of the practising physicians of the neighbourhood. There is an academy, already established in Hallowell, which was incorporated in 1791. Its funds are considerable; and its reputation good. There is one church, only, in this town : a good building. Hallowell was incorporated in the year 1771. In the year 1790, the township, including Augusta, contained 1,194 inhabit ants. In 1 800 Hallowell contained 1,364, and Augusta 1,211: 2,575. The increase in ten years was 1,381. This township has, therefore, more than doubled its number of inhabitants, with in that period. In 1810, Hallowell alone contained 2,068, and Augusta, 1805: 3,873. The following abstract of duties on imports will show you, in some measure, the commerce of Bath, Hallowell, and Augusta : Bath being the common port of entry for these three towns. Years. Duties. Years. Duties. 1801 - - #22,082 1806 - - #38,356 1802 31,141 1807 31,117 1803 27,194 1808 3,779 1804 36,103 1809 25,813 1805 35,044 1810 . - 13,466 Tuesday Sept. 29, we left our friends at Hallowell and rode to Brunswick ; where we arrived soon after it became dark : twen ty-nine miles. Wednesday we arrived at Portland between three and four o'clock. At ten the next morning we left Portland and rode to Kennebunk. The next day we passed through Berwick, Somersworth, and Dover ; and arrived at Portsmouth, by Pascat- aqua bridge, at five. A violent storm from the North-East com menced this afternoon. The rain began to descend furiously about half an hour before we reached Portsmouth ; and con tinued through the principal part of the two succeeding days. LETTER XXII. 221 The country, between Hallowell and Brunswick, is almost uni versally a succession of hills and vallies. The hills are of consid erable height ; but slope so gradually, as to render the travelling not inconvenient. In this tract we passed, unless I mistook their limits, through the townships of Gardiner, Litchfield, Bowdoin, a corner of Bowdoinham, and Topsham. The principal differences in the appearance of this region are, in most instances, derived from the different degrees of cultivation. The hills are generally arched, and handsome ; the vallies open. The forests on the hills are a mixture of beach, maple, oak, and white-pine; and in the vallies chiefly of hemlock, spruce, and fir. The soil of both appears to be well suited to grass. Litchfield is apparently the most fertile tract on this road ; and except Topsham, the most cultivated. The meadows and pas tures, the orchards, already numerous, and the crops of maize, furnish evident proofs of a good soil. We saw a collection of peach trees on one of the hills, which appeared to have grown well, but to have been sensibly injured by the severity of the climate. It is a remarkable fact, that, although Litchfield was incorpora ted in 1795, and contained, in 1800, 1,044 inhabitants, not one of them has a legal right to the land, on which he lives ; all of them being what in the customary language of the Northern and Mid dle States are called Squatters. A Squatter is a person, who plants himself in the wilderness upon any piece of ground which he likes, without purchasing it of the proprietor. Large tracts of the country, recently settled in these States, have been occupied in this manner: but I have never been informed of any other in stance, in which a whole township, and that township incorpora ted too, was holden by this violent tenure. In Litchfield and else where in this District, in Vermont, New- York, and Pennsylvania, this evil has been followed by various acts of violence, done both to the proprietors, and to the ministers of justice : A deplorable Vol. II. 29 222 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. proof of inefficiency in the government, in defiance of which they were done.* Topsham is one of the most ancient settlements of this district: three planters having fixed themselves here about the beginning of the eighteenth century. All of them were, however, destroy ed, or carried into captivity, together with their families. About thirty years afterward the settlement recommenced ; but being embarrassed with many difficulties and dangers advanced very little. Until the year 1760 the Savages were almost perpetually making inroads upon every defenceless settlement in this country. About the year 1750 the township contained eighteen families. It seems wonderful that an individual could exist so unhappily else where as to be willing to fix himself in a situation so precarious. The surface of this township strongly resembles that of Bruns wick ; from which it is separated only by the river Ameriscoggin. The soil of the different divisions is, also, in each case the same. A village rather pleasant is built on the borders of the river. No pauper has been maintained in this township ; nor has any one ever applied for such maintenance. Topsham contains one Congregation. In 1 790 the number of inhabitants was 826; in 1800, 942; and, in 1810, 1,271. Between Topsham and Brunswick, immediately above the bridge, a ridge of rocks crosses the river Ameriscoggin, and forms a mag nificent cataract. At this place a great number of saw-mills are erected. An immense quantity of logs is brought down this river, * This subject needs, as I have since found, some further explanation. A great part of these lands were originally cultivated as mere possessions ; the occupant intending, in very many instances, to purchase the fee whenever he should find a legal owner : a matter not unfrequently attended with a good deal of difficulty, be cause the lands have been repeatedly granted, and the fee is challenged by different persons. When the occupant sold it he conveyed a title to its improvements only. During the long continued uncertainty concerning the legal proprietors, many of these lands have been sold several times, and the improvements made on them have become much more valuable than the lands themselves. From these facts difficul ties have arisen, to remove which has demanded all the wisdom of the legislature. In Litchfield and probably in most other places the principle of adjustment has been established and the original titles in most instances are extinguished. LETTER XXII. 223 and sawed at these mills. Hence they are floated two miles low er down to the head of navigation. The river Ameriscoggin rises in the White Mountain range, and on the Western side of that range, a little below the forty-fifth degree of latitude. For about forty miles its general course is directly South. In its passage it receives the waters of lake Um- bagog, and of several other smaller lakes. It then steers a course generally East, about forty or fifty miles more, when it turns again to the South, and then again to the East, emptying its waters into the Kennebeck at the place called Merry-meeting Bay. Its whole course with its various windings probably exceeds one hundred and fifty miles. The Kennebeck is a noble river. Its fountains are imperfectly known. The West branch rises near Umbagog lake ; and run ning, first a Northern,' and then an Eastern course, through a tract of land containing one million of acres, sold by the State of Mas sachusetts to William Bingham, Esq. meets the Eastern branch about the middle of that tract, measured from East to West, and about one third the distance from the North towards the South boundary. The Eastern branch conveys the waters of Moose Head lake into the ocean. From this junction it runs generally, but circuitously, a Southern course to Georgetown, where it joins the sea. This river is not far from three hundred miles in length; and is navigable for ships forty-six miles. It abounds in fish, particularly in salmon. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XXIII. Tornado— Scarborough — Saco — Biddeford — Arundel. Dear Sir, I will now return to the journey which is the principal sub ject of these letters. On Sunday, October 8th 1 797, it rained violently at Portland with a strong wind from the South- West. In the afternoon a tornado, the commencement of which, so far as I was able to learn, was at Upper Salem in the County of West-Chester, and State of New- York, passed over Ridgefield in Connecticut, and thence over- Reading, New-Town, Huntington, Derby, Woodbridge, New-Haven, East-Haven, Branford, Guil ford, and Killingworth ; whence it directed its course over the Sound. At times it rose from the earth, and held its most furious career in a higher region of the atmosphere. Such was the fact at New-Haven ; where, although its force was great, it did not blow with sufficient strength to do any material damage. At Up per Salem it destroyed orchards, groves, and buildings. At. East- Haven it blew down the steeple of the Presbyterian church*, and ruined several other buildings. It left many marks of its violence also at Branford, and some other places ; while in others it did little or no mischief. This alternate rise and fall of a tornado^ I have not seen mentioned ; nor do I remember a storm of this kind, at so late a season, in any other instance. On Monday morning, October 9th, 1797, Mr. L. and myself, left our hospitable friends in Portland with regret ; and commen ced our journey towards New-Haven, in company with J. S. Esq. lately one of the Tutors of Yale College ; by whom we had been fortunately joined that morning. The day was pleasant ; and the ride upon the whole agreeable. As I know not the exact limits of the townships on this coast, I am unable to determine whether we passed through any part of Cape Elizabeth, or not. No other places were mentioned to us, as lying on our road, but Falmouth, LETTER XXIII. 225 Scarborough, and Pepperellborough, before we arrived at Bidde- ford, where we dined. The distance was eighteen miles. This part of our journey lay over a level country ; the soil partly clay, partly stiff loam, and partly sand. The forest is composed of pine, birch, and other trees indicating a lean and cold soil : the houses are generally poor, and the husbandry is indifferent. The circumstances of the inhabitants may be easily conjectured. Such are the appearances, which met my eye during my first journey along this road. In 1807 I found, that I had misjudged concerning the township of Scarborough. I knew, that this town ship was generally said to be good land ; but from what I saw, when I first passed through it, was very little disposed to regard the report as well founded. In my second journey I was better pleased with its appearance. The surface is a handsome col lection of easy slopes ; and the whole aspect cheerful and pleas ant. Both the buildings, and the agriculture, wore a new, and prosperous appearance. It ought, however, to be observed, that the direction of the road had been materially changed. Instead of taking a long circuit through Falmouth, it proceeded in a di rect line to Portland ; crossing the Stroudwater, near its mouth, over a new and expensive bridge, lately erected, and cutting off between three and four miles of the distance. On this part of the road Scarborough has perhaps always appeared better than on the former road. This township was incorporated in the year 1658; and it is known to have been settled as early as 1642. Its sufferings from the savages were at times severe : but the settlement seems never to have been broken up. In one of their incursions they burnt a house, containing a quantity of maize. A part of this grain has been frequently turned up by the plough, within a few years past. In the year 1801, several kernels were given me by the Rev. Mr. Alden, of Portsmouth. They were charred quite through, and in a state of perfect preservation, although they had lain within Aess than one foot of the surface more than one hundred years. This is the strongest proof of the preserving power of charring, with which I am acquainted. 226 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Scarborough includes two Congregations ; and contained, in 1790, 2,225 inhabitants; in 1800, 2,099; and, in 1810, 2,094. The name, Saco, has been colloquially applied, heretofore, to a village, formed on both sides of the river of this name, near its mouth, in the township of Pepperellborough on the East, and that of Biddeford on the West. This village is about five miles from the ocean ; and the parts of it are connected by a bridge, extend ing from each shore to an island ; the property of Colonel Cutts, for many years the principal inhabitant of this place. He is also the proprietor of the bridge, which is said to yield him a handsome profit from the toll. A Mr. Spring, who lives on another island a little farther up, was building a second bridge ; intending to turn the travelling by his own house ; which he expected to accomplish by making the passage free. At a small distance above this island, a ridge of rocks crosses the Saco ; and presents to the eye of a trav eller a noble cataract, descending forty feet in a great variety of wild and magnificent torrents. On this fall is a collection of saw mills, said to have cut four million feet of boards, annually, be fore the late American war, and to furnish, still, a very great quantity. The Saco is navigable for vessels of one hundred tons to the foot of this fall. Logs are floated down to these mills from the distance of sixty miles. As the lands on both sides are not likely soon to be cultivated, they may, if prudently managed, con tinue for a long time to yield a large supply of timber. The riv er is well furnished with fish ; particularly with salmon and shad. We saw little in this settlement, which could be termed agree able. The declivities, on which it is built, are rude and irregu lar, but neither beautiful nbr fertile. The soil is principally clay; always an unsightly, and uncomfortable, basis of a town : in dry seasons scarcely tolerable on account of the dust ; and in wet, on account of the mud. The houses appeared to have been placed by accident ; and except a small number were, ordinary, and in many instances decayed. The inhabitants were casually gathered here by mere business. Saco is, a busy, bustling place ; and one of the principal seats of the lumber trade. Near the mouth of the river, on the Western LETTER XXIII. 227 side, is an excellent harbour called the Pool ; where vessels of any burden may find safe anchorage at all seasons. Between this harbour and the river, a canal, it is said, might be cut without much difficulty. When I passed through Pepperellborough in 1807, then legal ly named Saco, I found its face almost entirely changed. A considerable number of new, handsome buildings had been erect ed since the date of my former journey : most of them on the plain above the bank. The inhabitants had also built a new and beautiful church : a structure, superiour to any other, which I have seen in this district, and inferiour to very few in New-Eng land. Pepperellborough contains one Congregation. The number of its inhabitants, in 1790, was 1,352; in 1800, 1,842; and, in 1810, 2,492. This is one of the oldest settlements in Maine. It was granted by the Plymouth Company to John Oldham, and Richard Vines, in the year 1629. Oldham, I suppose to have been the man, who in 1636, was murdered near Block Island by the Pequods. In 16.36, the inhabitants of Saco, taxed themselves for the mainte nance of public worship. This settlement suffered, in common with its neighbours, from Indian depredations : but I have not, hitherto, been able to find any satisfactory history of these suf ferings. Biddeford I found much less improved than Saco. I know of nothing in it, particularly claiming the attention of a traveller. It contains one Congregation. The number of the inhabitants, in 1790, was 1,018 ; in 1800, 1,296 ; and, in 1810, 1,563. Between Biddeford and Kennebunk the ground is a cold, bar ren plain ; which wears, and will, I suspect, wear for a long peri od, a desolate aspect. A few, solitary settlements have been made here ; but it is chiefly a forest of stinted pines. The road is disagreeable ; being encumbered with a multitude of small rocks, and left absolutely without any repairs. The houses are dismal cottages, placed on little tracts of cleared ground, which can never repay the labour, either of the scythe, or the sickle. 228 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. The inhabitants seem to have planted themselves here, becauge they could go no farther, or because they know not whither to go. This tract is, I suppose, partly in the township of Arundel. Arundel was anciently called Cape Porpoise, and contains a village on the point, which bears that name. It was settled about the same time with Saco ; and, from the position of the village, seems to have suffered little from the savages. The other parts of this township must be more advantageously situated, than those which we saw: for in 1790, it contained 1,802 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,900; and, in 1810, 2,371. It includes a single Congre gation; and was incorporated by its present name in the year 1718. Kennebunk is a lively, flourishing village, containing a consid erable number of houses, surrounding a decent church. A brisk trade in lumber is carried on here by means of the river Mousum, which passes through it, and is the boundary between the town ships of Arundel and Wells. The Rev. Mr. Little, Minister of Kennebunk, mentioned heretofore in the description of the White Mountains, has, for many years, been occasionally employed as a Missionary among the Penobscot Indians. We dined at Biddeford with an agreeable circle of gentlemen; and, in the afternoon, rode to a very good inn, in the interiour of Wells. Our distance should have been about twelve or fourteen miles : but, as we unfortunately lost the road, we made it sixteen or eighteen. In the morning, Tuesday, October 1 0th, we left our hospitable inn, not a little pleased with our entertainment ; and rode through Berwick to Somersworth, where we dined, and, being detained by a heavy rain, lodged also, at the excellent house of Captain) R. heretofore mentioned. 'The distance was seventeen miles. Here we spent our time very pleasantly with the Rev. Mr. Lit tle ; and received from him a great number of interesting obser vations concerning the District of Maine, and particularly con cerning the Indians of Penobscot. I requested him to commit to writing the knowledge which he had acquired of this tribe. He informed me, that he had already done this, to a considerable ex- LETTER XXIII. 229 tent, in compliance with a similar request from a gentleman in Boston ; in whose hand the manuscript then was. This, I pre sume, has been since published in the Collections of the Massa chusetts Historical Society. Mr. L. communicated to us, also, the particulars of the visit, which he made to the summit of Mount Washington. In the journey of 1807 I found Kennebunk greatly improved both in business and appearance ; and Berwick, and that part of Somersworth, which borders on the bridge over Salmon Fall river, in a less degree. Dover was scarcely altered at all, except by the erection of one handsome house. A good turnpike road had, however, been made from the neighbourhood of this bridge to Dover ; by which the distance was shortened, and the travelling rendered much more agreeable. The toll- gatherer at Pascataqua bridge informed me, that the income amounted annually to $4,000. I am, Sir, yours, &c. Vol. II. 30 LETTER XXIV. Maine — Its Climate — Coast — Soil — Manner of Settlement — Difficulties encounter ed by the first settlers — Their Character. Dear Sit, Being now about to quit the District of Maine, I will give you such general observations, as I have had an opportunity to make concerning this country. The District of Maine lies between 43° and 48° North latitude. Its length and breadth are not far from two hundred miles ; and its area is about thirty-five thousand square miles; half of the contents of New-England. The climate is colder than that of any other country on the coast of the United States ; but not so cold, as to prevent mankind, when possessed even of moderate property, from passing through the year comfortably and cheer fully. The winter is less severe than at Quebec ; in the North of Poland, or of Germany ; or the middle of Russia. To this statement the most Northern angle, made by the Southern boun dary of Lower Canada, and the Western boundary of New-Bruns wick, furnishes an exception. The difference in the progress of vegetation, between Kittery and Passamaquoddy is about fifteen days. In the quantity of snow which falls throughout this ex tent, there is no material difference. The summers are pleasant ; and sufficiently warm to bring maize, of several kinds, to perfec tion ; warmer, of course, than in any part of Europe, above the forty-sixth degree of latitude. In the years 1 796, and 1 797, I visited the South- Western parts of this District. In the former year there was no appearance of frost, so late as the sixth of Oc tober ; nor in the latter, so late as the eleventh. In 1807 there was, if I mistake not, a frost some time in September. But the same thing happens, at times, in Pennsylvania : and frosts in Oc tober have been severe in Georgia. Several of the inhabitants in formed me, that they do not usually commence in Maine before the first of this month. The climate is remarkably salubrious : LETTER XXIV. 231 and probably no country in the world sees a greater proportion of children reach the age of twenty, or of its inhabitants surpass that of seventy years. The surface of a country so extensive will naturally be suppos ed to be various. In the South- Western parts are extensive plains. Farther Eastward, and Northward, the surface is to a great extent formed into hills and vallies. Beside the high grounds, which separate this District from Lower Canada, it con tains few mountains. Agamenticus, a round eminence rising in the township of York, has from its situation been more noted than any other. Maine is every where intersected by brooks and rivers. The considerable streams are the Saco, the Ameriscoggin, the Kenne beck, the Penobscot, and the Schoodic. The river St. John's, also, has its fountains, and a considerable part of its course, in this District. The Kennebeck is navigable for ships forty-rix miles ; and the Penobscot, about fifty. Both are also navigable for boats for a considerable distance ; but are interrupted in sev eral places by falls and rapids* The waters, throughout, are pure and salubrious. The Coast of this District is indented by numerous harbours, perfectly safe, and sufficiently deep and capacious, to receive any number of vessels, of any size, which can ever be supposed to resort to this region. In this respect no part of the Union can be compared with Maine. Both the rivers, and the sea which washes this coast, abound with fish of excellent kinds, in quanti ties inexhaustible. The forests of this country consist of pine both yellow and white, maple, beech, oak, birch, fir, spruce, &c. The white pines are of sufficient size for masts, and spars, of ev ery description. The native animals are now few. I know of none, which are not common to other parts of New-England. The Soil is very various. A great part of the coast, for a few miles in breadth, is cold and unproductive. The plains, also, are partly of a cold and stiff loam, and partly of sand, sufficiently warm, but lean, and with the existing husbandry scarcely worth cultivation. It is not improbable, that gypsum might render them 232 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. fertile, as it has others of the same quality elsewhere. The hills, and vallies, are naturally good land, and well fitted for all the ag riculture of this climate. Few intervals, it is said, are found in this District. Were I to estimate the lands in this country according to the best information which I have been able to obtain, I should say, that one third of them were rich ; another third of a middling quality ; and the remaining third indifferent, and in many instan ces very poor. Yet the poor lands will, it is to be remembered, yield fuel ; and may by skilful cultivation be often rendered pro ductive. For those on the coast, which are usually the worst, the sea-weed, thrown upon the shore, furnishes an inexhaustible body of manure. A tract between the rivers Ameriscoggin and Pe nobscot, commencing generally about forty miles from the ocean, and extending far into the interiour, is considered here as exceed ingly good. Probably other tracts, farther Eastward, may be found, of the same quality, when the country shall have been suf ficiently explored. Upon the whole, it will be no immoderate calculation to suppose, that, with its advantages for agriculture, fishing, and commerce, Maine may hereafter easily support from four to five millions of people. This District contains a very great number of Lakes. The largest of these are Umbagog, and Moose Head. The length of the former is said to be seventy miles. The latter is, however, still larger, although its dimensions are imperfectly known. Small er ones are met with almost every where ; and, while they con tribute to render the climate milder, and more equable, are un ceasing variegations, and exquisite ornaments of the landscape. This District is now rapidly advancing in its population. Im migrants are crowding to it from New-Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Rhode-Island ; and some even from Connecticut ; the stream of whose surplus population has been long running towards the West, and South. When a traveller remembers, that the first settlements in New- England were begun here ; and that, with a few short intervals, they have been continued ever since ; he naturally wonders why LETTER XXIV. 233 this country should, for so long a time, have been so thinly inhab ited, since such numbers now regard it as a desirable residence. The following observations may in some measure explain this sub ject. When the first settlers planted themselves in Maine, their ob ject was not husbandry, but commerce and fishery. Fishermen, and casual traders, are never, in the proper sense, Colonists. Neither their views, nor their habits, qualify them to convert a wilderness into a permanent residence. Men, accustomed to pa tient labour, of persevering firmness, and superiour even to the real ills of life ; men, influenced by some great and commanding motive, connected with a settlement on the soil, such as the hope of civil or religious freedom, or the necessity of providing for an increasing family ; are the only persons, fitted to subdue forests, encounter frost and hunger, and resolutely survey the prospect of Savage incursions. Traders and fishermen will stay in any place, while they can trade, and fish, with advantage : but they commence their business with an original intention of retreating as soon as their gain is acquired, or the acquisition becomes hope less. From the first settlers, as they are called, of Maine all, that could be rationally expected, was that, which actually took place. They traded, caught fish, and went home. Such, chief ly, were the visitors of this country for the first fifty years. All the evils of climate, and all the discouragements of soil and surface, were in a high degree felt by these people. The winter is sufficiently cold to terrify, at first, any European, educated South of the fifty-second degree of North latitude, unless born on the sides of the Alps or Pyrenees ; and much more, men accus tomed only to the mild winter of England. The soil of the coast is generally cold, and lean ; and the surface by no means invi ting. All these facts the settlers, mentioned above, published so generally, that until the close of the Revolutionary war Maine was considered as little less than an immense waste, unfit for the habitation of man. To the complete establishment of this char acter travellers, who visited only the same grounds, and the in habitants, who resided on them, jointly contributed. Except in 234 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. some small tracts, principally in the County of York, scarcely any husbandry was pursued in this extensive country. The few persons, devoted to this business, were so unskilful, as to employ their labour, even here, with much less advantage, than the same soil and climate would have furnished to abler hands. The only visible effect of their industry was, therefore, a collection of half- ' starved crops, growing on grounds wretchedly prepared, and serv ing only to discourage future attempts of the same nature. So general was the prepossession against the possibility of successful agriculture, that, as I have observed, the people of Standish were astonished to see, (and that, several years since the Revolutiona ry war was finished,) their first crops come to perfection. Until this period almost all the inhabitants were merchants, land-job bers, sawyers, lumbermen, or fishermen. Both the corn and meat, on which they fed, were imported from Connecticut, and some other States. These facts completely riveted the opinion throughout New-England, that the lands in Maine were of little or no value ; and that farmers could not here obtain even a sub sistence. A number of the people, however, were real colonists ; and came to this country with an intention to cultivate the soil. These persons met with endless perplexities in the numerous, in terfering, and contradictory grants, made in England, of these lands ;* distracting those who were in possession ; and bringing upon them the litigation and distress, produced by the claims of other grantees, who had, or pretended to have, as good or better titles than themselves. Disputed titles will effectually prevent the regular settlement of any country. Had Maine been original ly granted in regular townships by a government, sufficiently ac quainted with the country, and sufficiently attentive to the inter ests of the grantees, to make out consistent patents, and to invest the grantees with the proper powers of internal government ; the settlement of the country would undoubtedly have advanced with a more rapid progress. But the government of Great Britain was at that time too ignorant of the country, and too careless about * Hubbard, Sullivan, &c. LETTER XXIV. 235 the concerns of the adventurers, to do either. From this igno rance, and unconcern, probably arose another serious discourage ment. The French, in the neighbourhood of whom Englishmen have hitherto never been able to live peaceably, began, early, a settlement on the Eastern shores of this District. The French government, originally in the year 1603, granted this tract, to gether with the rest of New-England, New- York, New-Jersey, and a great part of Pennsylvania, or in other words the whole country between 40° and 46° North latitude, to Monsieur De la Motte ; who took possession of it, in 1 604, by planting himself in the District of Maine. In the following years several other scat tered settlements were formed, as far Westward as Kennebeck river. In 1613, Sir Samuel Argali dispossessed the French; and carried the settlers to Virginia. Charles I. gave it up to them again. From this time the French, though repeatedly driven off, renewed their settlements : and the inhabitants, of both nations, experienced the usual distressing vicissitudes, attendant on the frequent wars between the English and French, and peculiarly felt by the Colonists of the contending nations bordering on each other. No habitation was for any length of time safe from the flames ; and no person from plunder, captivity, or death. In this hazardous situation the people of Maine continued for a long time. You will not wonder, that the settlement of the country did not proceed. In 1675, Philip's war, which affected all the Indians in New- England, and embarked most of them in actual hostilities, spread its influence over the Indians of Maine ; and produced among its exposed inhabitants the customary horrours. The people were few, scattered, and almost defenceless. Their brethren, in South ern New-England, were too distant, and too much occupied in their own defence, to lend them the assistance, which they need ed. The Indians of Maine were too numerous to be attacked by these few Colonists with any hope of success ; and too well secur ed in the fastnesses of an immense, and unknown, wilderness to be pursued with any prospect of advantage. In the subsequent wars these Indians were so engaged in the interests of the French, 236 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. that they continually took their part against the English. Nor were the inhabitants finally safe from their incursions till the peace of 1763. Another cause of the slow progress of settlement has been found in the character of the inhabitants. These, heretofore, have been chiefly lumbermen, and fishermen. Both these class es are usually employed, during the mild season, in severe toil : and not a small proportion of those, belonging to both, spend the winter in idleness and dissipation. At the same time, very many of them are in a great measure destitute of property through life. This is, indeed, less extensively applicable to fishermen ; some of whom almost every where, and most in towns distinguished for sobriety, acquire at least a comfortable living. But those who are mere lumbermen are almost necessarily poor. Their course of life seduces them to prodigality, thought lessness of future wants, profaneness, irreligion, immoderate drink ing, and other ruinous habits. The farmers of New-England have never willingly resided among people of such a character. In the mean time also, other countries, labouring under few of these dis advantages, have offered to such, as were willing to emigrate, the allurements of an inviting climate, and a rich soil ; where lands might be obtained at prices equally moderate. The stream of colonization, once begun, is naturally continued by the tidings of success, and by the strong ties of attachment, which prompt men to follow their neighbours and friends in enterprizes of this nature. But, notwithstanding this uncommon assemblage of disadvanta ges, the progress of population in this District has become won derfully rapid. Since the Revolutionary war, the Government of Massachusetts has ordered it to be explored by men of understand ing, and integrity ; and a great part of it to be surveyed, and to be divided into regular townships. It has been found, that the coun try contains large quantities of good land ; and that it is capable of furnishing a comfortable residence, and sufficient rewards to well-directed industry. Not only merchants and fishermen, but substantial farmers have planted themselves in this District ; and in great numbers. By these men agriculture is pursued with new LETTER XXVI. 237 industry, skill, and success. Settlements are extensively spread over the interiour ; particularly on the borders of the numerous rivers; as well as along the coast. Business of every kind is carried on with an energy, which here was never before seen ; and with a prosperity, which has outrun the most sanguine ex pectations. In the year 1790, this District contained 96,440 in habitants. In the year 1800, they were increased to 151,719; and, in 1810, to 228,705.* Its population is, therefore, ultimately secured : and all those parts of it, which are fitted to become a comfortable residence for mankind, will, within a moderate peri od, be probably filled with inhabitants. The Moral and Religious state of this country is, extensively, like that of other recent New-England settlements. Beside the evils, resulting from the dissolute character of the two classes al ready mentioned, these people labour under other disadvantages. The number of settlements is great; and many of them, having been lately begun, are small and feeble. In every such settle ment the Gospel is preached occasionally only ; and the children, being destitute of regular catechetical instruction, must grow up, of course, in a comparative ignorance of moral and religious sub jects. There are here, unquestionably, many religious parents, who by a careful education of their children do much to remedy this evil, and extend a happy influence over the neighbourhoods around them. But the great support of religious education, is regular and enlightened, public worship : as religious education is, in its turn, the support of this worship. Wherever, therefore, the worship does not exist ; such education must gradually, if not rapidly, decline. At the same time, the number of parents is great, who neglect the religious interests of their families alto gether, and leave their salvation to the care of accident. In most new settlements a considerable proportion of the adventur ers will, almost of course, consist of roving, disorderly, vicious men. In the regular, established society, in which they were born, they were awed, and restrained. On the new grounds, to which they resort, they are set loose ; and usually break out into * In 1820 the number of inhabitants was 297,839.— Pub. Vol. II. 31 238 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. open licentiousness of principle and conduct. Their children, with such instructors, and such examples, ever before them, can not fail, unless under some strong counter influence, of becoming nuisances ; and will, but too naturally, educate the succeeding generation to the relish, and the practice, of every enormity. In the old New-England townships, almost every man, woman, and child, has the use, at least, of a bible : and the great body of them, notwithstanding the opposition, which has been heretofore made in this country to Christianity, read this sacred volume more, I believe, than all other books. In addition to this supreme priv ilege, every family almost is in possession of some other valuable religious books. Most parishes, also, contain one, or more, social libraries ; of which such books usually form a considerable part. But to these advantages the inhabitants of the recent settlements in Maine, and else where, must in a great measure be strangers. Another evil, under which these people labour, is this. They came together from different parts of the country, with different educations, views, and opinions. Hence, when these settlements become sufficiently advanced to support a minister, they find themselves split into several sects : each too small, and poor, to maintain a minister for itself; and all too discordant to unite in maintaining one for the whole. These divisions generate un- kindness, bickerings, and separation from each other ; and end in alienation from Religion, and dissoluteness of manners. Weari ed by such contentions, and seeing religion in no other form than that odious one of party zeal, some of them, at least, become per suaded, that party zeal is the real object, and Religion only the name. Hence the transition is easy to mere Nihilism, and a total disregard of moral obligation. Another misfortune, arising from the smallness of such settle ments, and the manner in which they are formed, is the influx of ignorant, wandering, and unprincipled preachers. These men, too lazy to labour, and therefore hopeless of any other than a wretched subsistence in their own proper spheres ; often blown up with spiritual pride; believing themselves, as peculiar favour ites, to receive immediate communications from heaven ; assume LETTER XXIV. 239 the character and employment of religious teachers. The preca rious pittance, furnished by this business, miserable as it is, they consider as better than starving at home. Another evil of the same nature is found in the character and influence, of many of those, who are considered as principal men in every newly settled country. Among these not a small num- ¦ ber have risen to importance merely by their wealth. Adventur ers at an early period, and sagacious in discovering those means of acquiring property, which are always opened by circumstances in the progress of civilization, they bought lands cheap, and sold them dear ; and by dealing largely in this profitable commodity came suddenly to the possession of great estates. Multitudes of those, who came after them, being poor, became indebted to them and dependent on them. This originated a superiority and in fluence, which time and habit confirmed. Those, who acquire this influence, are in many instances, both ignorant, and licen tious. It is, therefore, frequently exerted in favour of loose prin ciples, and practices, and against those which are better. At the same time, a considerable number of the men of learning and tal ents are unhappily loose characters ; and encourage a licentious ness, harmonizing with their own wishes. These observations are generally applicable to the new settle ments, not only in Maine, but in New-Hampshire, Vermont, and New- York, also. Another evil, existing in Maine, and perhaps elsewhere, is an indisposition in some of the regular Ministers to examine strictly, or even at all,. Candidates for the ministry. The opinion appears to have spread considerably along many parts of this coast, that it is both unnecessary, and improper, to insist on a declaration of the Candidate's religious opinions, or an investigation of his at tainments in Theology. This is termed liberality; but it is really the result of indifference to Religion, or of love to Latitudinarian doctrines ; and prevents, of course, any reasonable evidence of the Candidate's knowledge, or piety. In this way persons are easily introduced into the Ministry, who are destitute of both the literary and religious qualifications. Such Ministers must be far from sparing, and much farther from feeding the flock. 240 . JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. All these evils, except the last, will, I think, be gradually, and at no great distance of time, chiefly, if not wholly, done away. The several missionary societies in New-England are with a most commendable and successful, as well as zealous industry, sending preachers into these and other new settlements ; who are gener ally men of sound principles, and unexceptionable lives. By these men the doctrines and precepts of the Gospel are, at inter vals of no great length, preached in a great part of the recent set tlements in New-England and New- York. A considerable knowl edge of religion is thus diffused; and a sense of its importance ex cited, and kept alive. By the Missionary societies, also, Bibles, Testaments, and other religious books, are extensively dispersed among such, as are too poor to purchase them. Regular and re spectable ministers are, in numbers continually increasing, settled in such towns as have become sufficiently wealthy to support them. The New-England education, and habits, like the princi ples very early taught to children, finally remain ; and show their influence long after such, as look on, have despaired of seeing them revive. In instances, daily occurring, abundant proofs are given of the soundness of this opinion in the successful resistance, which they have made to many of these evils. Their happy effi cacy will be increased hereafter by the emigration of the more rest less, idle, roving inhabitants ; who, as the state of society in these countries advances towards order and stability, will leave them for the same reasons, which induced them to quit the places of their nativity. Such men cannot continue in any regular society; but quit it, of course, for places, where they may indulge their own idle and licentious dispositions. Like a company of pioneers, they always go forward in the front of regular settlers ; and seem to be of no other use, than to remove the difficulties, which might discourage the attempts of better and more quiet men. Accor dingly, they have constantly preceded the real, substantial farm ers in every course of emigration; and will probably precede them, until the Nevr-Engiand colonization shall be stopped by the Pacific ocean. The removal of these men, and the introduc tion of steady farmers, wil! both, greatly meliorate the moral con- LETTER XXVI. 241 dition of these countries. The rising generation, also, will drop the zeal, feuds, and divisions, of their parents ; and assume the general New-England character. The men, who now hold influ ence by wealth and accident, will be succeeded by those of su periour worth : and the prosperity and happiness of those towns, which have settled worthy ministers, will engage the imitation of others. The weight of infidelity will lessen, from the evil conse quences, which it every where produces ; and pity and contempt will soon be the only emotions, which it will excite. All these things, indeed, may not take place, as they are here stated. I do not mean to predict, but only to conjecture. In my own mind, however, there is little doubt, that the conjecture is founded on a solid basis. To these observations I added, during my last journey to this District, the following. No country in the United States possesses, in proportion to its wealth and population, so great a quantity of shipping, or so great a number of seamen. The period is not far distant when the in habitants will avail themselves of all the advantages, which Provi dence has put into their hands. Those feelings of party, which, at the present time, prevent them in a great measure from dis cerning their true interest, and proper destination, will soon give way to more just, as well as more dispassionate, views. The District of Maine is fitted to derive its respectability especially from fishing, and commerce. The number of its inhabitants will soon equal that of the Dutch in Europe. Their territory is much more extensive ; their climate at least, as favourable ; their harbours more numerous, better, and during the winter, much more open ; and the fish, to which they have an easy access, at least as abundant, and valuable. In enterprise, and activity, they will be outdone by no people on the globe. In spite of the preju dices, predominating in some parts of this country, a navy will grow up here of course ; and seamen will be furnished to man it, not inferiour in skill, activity, and spirit, to those of any other country. From these sources they will necessarily obtain an im portant influence in the American Union. 242 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Agriculture is improving in this District in two respects. The number of farmers is wonderfully increasing: and those, who are farmers, are much more skilful than their predecessors. The sober industrious husbandmen of Southern New-England are now emigrating in shoals to this country. The interiour is settling in the New-England manner. Schools are established in great numbers. Churches, always decent, and not unfrequently hand some, are built. Worthy Ministers, qualified by their learning and piety for their office, are called for ; and, when they can be obtained, are settled with as liberal stipends, as in other parts of the country. A scheme seems already to be formed, at least to a considerable extent, of settling this District on sober principles, and with wise institutions. The inhabitants begin to feel their consequence; to enlarge their views concerning the importance of their country ; and to point their aims at more dignified and rational objects. It has often been proposed to erect this District into a State. Conventions have assembled at Portland, several times, for this purpose. The State of Massachusetts has long been ready, and has declared its readiness by a legislative act, to consent to the separation. The inhabitants of Maine, however, have hitherto been unable to agree among themselves. Many have wished, and zealously laboured, to promote it ; but a majority has always been found, inclined to continue in their present situation. The rea sons, which have influenced them to the adoption of their differ ent opinions, have been various. On the one hand ambitious men, who felt their own apprehended merit to be neglected, and their rivals unwarrantably preferred to them, looked forward with eagerness to this separation; as opening a field of action, more auspicious to their wishes, and promising an undoubted harvest of honours, and profits. The number of these is nof small. Others, of fairer minds, more enlarged views, and more correct principles, have dreaded this event ; lest, at so early, and fluctuating, a pe riod in the progress of population, the system of government, re solved upon, should be so loose, and feeble, as to promote the purposes of public and private justice, peace, and safety, in a very LETTER XXIV. , 243 imperfect and ineffectual manner. They have believed, and I think justly, that a state of society, established on an infirm foundation, and unhappy principles, would extend a malignant influence through a series of generations. Men, who are possessed of offi ces under the present government, wished to retain them ; and did not feel sufficiently assured, that they should possess offices of equal importance under the government, which was proposed. Many of these men had long been accustomed to spend the winter amid the bustle, amusements, luxuries, and eminently social in tercourse, of Boston ; and felt unwilling to lose these enjoyments, or the personal consequence of appearing there as representatives, or senators. Besides, pride is gratified in being connected with a great and powerful State; the splendour, and importance, of which, is felt by every member to belong in some degree to him self. A great part of the business, carried on by the merchants of this District, is connected with Boston in so intimate a degree, as to depend upon that connection for its very existence. The great body of men, concerned in this business, were naturally alarmed by any event, which might contribute to lessen this con nection. The people at large, were, in the mean time, chiefly influenced by a still different, and more decisive, consideration. They were told, and with truth, that the new government would be more expensive to them than the old one. If Maine were to become a State, many new officers must be chosen ; and the maintenance of these must be paid for by the inhabitants. This District contains, as I have observed, half of New-Eng land. Its population is increasing in a very rapid manner. In deed it will very soon become so great, that, should a separation take place, the question may without impropriety be asked, whether Maine will be separated from Massachusetts, or Massa chusetts from Maine. A number of the most respectable inhabitants wish for the spee dy arrival of this event. They believe, that in its present state of population it will become, and will long continue to be, one State ; but, if the separation be delayed for a considerable time, that it will be divided into two. 244 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. The only material consideration to the inhabitants is the acqui sition of a Government, and public institutions, founded on the combined principles of freedom, energy, learning, good order, and religion. These blessings I most cordially wish them and their descendants to acquire, and enjoy, throughout every suc ceeding period of time.* I am, Sir, yours, &c. * The District of Maine was received into the Union as a State in 1820. — Pub. LETTER XXV. Madbury — Epping — Chester— Londonderry — Nottingham West — Dunstable, N. H. Dunstable, Mass. — Lovewell's Excursions — Groton — Indian Depredations. Dear Sir, On Wednesday, October 1 1th, we left the excellent house of Capt. R. and rode through Dover, Madbury, and Epping, to Ches ter, thirty-five or thirty six miles. Mr. L. left us at the bridge, to pursue his rout along the Eastern shore to Boston, and thence through Providence and Newport to New-Haven. On my return from Hallowell in 1807, I had an opportunity during my continuance at Portsmouth to observe the alterations, which had been made in this town ; as I also had in a journey, which I made to it in the year 1801. Two great fires had con sumed a considerable part of Portsmouth. The vacancies, pro duced by these conflagrations, have been entirely, or nearly, filled up with several rows of handsome brick buildings; generally of four stories. Most of these are stores ; and, except in Boston, are, as a whole, not excelled in New-England. Many new and beau tiful houses have also been erected ; and the whole aspect of the town has been essentially improved.* * On the 26th of September, three days after we passed through Portsmouth on our journey in 1807, Colonel Walker of this town went out on a shooting excursion at four o' clock in the morning. For this purpose he embarked in a small boat with an intention of crossing the Pascataqua. When he had passed over about half the breadth of the river, a severe spasm seizing him in the head, sensibly affected his sight, but left him in full possession of his understanding. Apprehending that his situation was dangerous, he immediately turned his course back towards the Ports mouth shore j and, as the flood tide then flowing with great strength forced him up the river, he steered towards a small wharf about three-fourths of a mile above the town. As the boat came near the wharf, he laid the end of a paddle, which he held in his hand, upon a corner of the wharf; in order to lay the boat by its side. But the tide forced him away. He then attempted to reach a rocky point, a few rods above ; but while he was in the act of making a stroke with his paddle, by some ac cident or other he missed the stroke, broke the paddle, and fell into the river where it was about ten feet deep. As soon as he rose above the surface he endeavoured to swim; but being unskilled in the art, and encumbered with his clothes and boots, Vol. II. 32 246 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. The Ecclesiastical concerns, both of Portsmouth and its neigh bourhood, have been less prosperous. Except the Congregation of the Rev. Dr. B. which is very large and flourishing, there is scarcely one, which has not within a few years had serious intru sions made upon its welfare. Several respectable Clergymen have died ; others have been removed ; and others, distressed by long continued diseases. I have mentioned the storm, which overtook me and my com panions just before our arrival at Portsmouth in 1 807. It began to rain here at half after four, P. M. ; at Boston, about nine, A. M. ; at New-London, and New-Haven, early in the morning. Its pro gress against the wind was therefore irregular, and much slower than in the instances, unitedly observed by Doctor Franklin and Professor Winthrop. According to their observations, rain is found himself unable. When he perceived that he must sink again, he turned his face towards the shore ; designing when he should reach the bottom to make his way to the spot where he hoped to land, by creeping. Accordingly, as soon as he felt the bottom, he made the most vigorous exertions for this purpose ; and, when he rose again, had advanced so far towards the shore as to be able to raise his head above the water while his feet touched the bottom. He then walked to the shore which he reached about an hour before the sun rose. Hence he ascended the bank ; and walk ed up the river with the hope of finding some person who might assist him to recov er his boat. To this time Colonel Walker had retained full possession of his reason; but, as he supposed, he now fainted and fell, and had afterwards no distinct recollection of his circumstances until a little before noon on Monday the 28th. Still he retained a re membrance, which he styles imperfect, and visionary, of climbing over stone-walls, groping in a corn-field, and endeavouring to reach his house before the news of tak ing up his boat should alarm his family. The course which he took to find his house he could not remember ; and probably did not contrive nor distinguish. But he ev idently spent the whole of Saturday, Sunday, and a part of Monday, in attempting to find his way thither. The spasmodic affection which he mentions, the anxiety and flutter of spirits which he suffered during the time while he was in and under the wa ter, and the excessive fatigue occasioned by his extraordinary exertions to regain the shore, affected both his body and his mind in such a manner as to leave him ab solutely bewildered. Two days he seems to have wandered in the cornfield and its environs; and two nights to have slept, if he slept at all, within the same narrow limits ; and all this on ground, which he must have familiarly known. After he had reached the town on Monday morning he made a variety of attempts by wander ing through different parts of it, as he afterwards remembered, to find the way to LETTER XXV. 247 supposed to commence at Philadelphia, in a North-East storm, such as this was, four hours sooner than at Boston.* Madbury, Epping, and Chester, are all farming towns. The surface is undulating ; the soil, and the cultivation, moderately good ; and the houses decent. Chester, the best of these town ships, contains a village of well appearing houses, around a neat church. Epping is inferiour to it ; and Madbury to Epping. Madbury was incorporated in 1755; Epping in 1741; and Ches ter in 1722. Madbury contained in 1790, 592 ; in 1800, 544 ; in 1810, 582 inhabitants. Epping contained in 1790, 1,233; in 1800, 1,141 ; in 1810, 1,182 inhabitants. Chester contained in 1790, 1,902; in 1800, 2,046; in 1810, 2,030 inhabitants. his own house ; but failed in them all. About five o'clock, P. M. he was discovered and condu"ted home by some bakers in the neighbourhood. To this account taken from Colonel Walker himself, Dr. Buckminster adds, " Up on coming to the bake-house, to which he was probably directed by the light of the oven, Colonel Walker asked the men ; whether they knew where he was, and who he was, and whether they could conduct him to his house. The bake-house was with in sight of the house of Colonel Walker; and directly behind the church where he had worshipped for thirty years. After he came home he was put to bed. Within an hour I visited him, and found him in a great degree of perturbation. He knew me however ; as he had known his wife, and several of his family, at his first com ing home. But he could not be convinced that it was Monday, and not Saturday, morning. In my hearing he urged his wife to send a messenger unto a company of men who under his superintendance were working on a road, to tell them that he was unable to give them directions, and that they must therefore disperse." Within a few days Colonel Walker was so far recovered as to attend to his customary business ; and not long after regained his usual health. I have recited this story because it exhibits man in an attitude, which, so far as I know, is absolutely new. * Subsequent observation has convinced me, that the irregularity mentioned in the text is not uncommon ; although I am unprepared to say that it is predominant. On Tuesday, the 3d of May, 1813, began at New-Haven a storm attended with rain. Both continued, with some interruptions, five days. The quantity of water which fell was five inches and a half. At Norwich it began to rain on Wednesday, and at Boston, on Friday. 248 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Madbury is in the County of Strafford ; the other townships are in the County of Rockingham. In the township of Chester there is a round eminence, called Rattle Snake Hill ; which is esteemed a curiosity by the inhab itants. On the Southern side of this eminence there is, it is said, at the height of thirty or forty feet from its base, a cavern, from fifteen to twenty feet square ; from the ceiling of which depend a number of stalactites, whose polished surfaces reflect the light of a torch with uncommon brilliancy. From Chester we rode, the following day, through London derry and Nottingham- West ; crossing the Merrimac, through Dunstable, (N. H.) and Dunstable, (Mass.) to Groton : thirty- three miles. The road on both these days was, for one so ob scure, tolerably good. Londonderry is a large farming township ; one of the best in New-Hampshire. Its surface is less undulating than that of the three preceding ones : the soil is better. The houses are gene rally good ; and, together with the husbandry, indicate the pros perity of the inhabitants. A colony came to this town, at an early period, from the North of Ireland. Their descendants constitute a great part of the present inhabitants. Soon after their arrival they began to man ufacture linen, and thread ; and have ever since carried on this business, to a Considerable extent; dispersing the products of their industry through many parts of the neighbouring States. This is the most considerable, and I believe the most respectable, colony of Irish emigrants, which has been planted in New-Eng land. Londonderry was incorporated in 1 722. In 1 775, it contained 2,590 inhabitants; in 1790, 2,672; in 1800, 2,650; and, in 1810, 2,766. This township was first planted in 1718 ; settled its first minister in 1719 ; and contains two Congregations ; both Presby terian in the proper sense. After leaving Londonderry we passed through a part of Not tingham-West. Of this township we saw nothing, except a lean plain, forested with yellow pines. I have rarely seen a less in- LETTER XXV. 249 viting spot. In other parts it must undoubtedly possess a bet ter soil, as, in 1775, it contained 999 inhabitants ; in 1790, 1,068 ; in 1800, 964; and, in 1810, 1,063. It includes one Congrega tion. We crossed the Merrimac at Kenney's ferry, a few miles above the great bend at Dracut. The river is here forty rods in breadth, and about ten or twelve feet in depth. The current is extremely rapid ; a great quantity of water is therefore conveyed through its channel. The Merrimac has been often styled a barren river ; and with much propriety. Throughout a great part of its length, besides being obstructed by numerous falls, its current is too rapid for convenient navigation. A considerable proportion of the lands along its banks above the bend are said to be lean ; and to a great extent composed of yellow-pine plains. Few fish are found in its waters. The largest branch of this river has its springs in the Southern part of the White Mountains whence it runs about one hundred miles. Its fountains are nearly on the same level with the Connecticut, which runs a course of four hundred and ten miles. Hence the Merrimac must have a rapid descent to the ocean, or furnish an obstructed navigation. It is attended with both these disadvantages. As a balance for these evils, all the New-England rivers, except the Merrimac and the Saco, have fertile borders ; and all of them consist of pure, salubrious waters. The inhabitants, planted on their borders, are equally healthy with those on the hills ; and, on the Eastern side of the Green Mountains, are strangers to agues and intermittents ; evils, at tendant upon all the rivers South of New-England, and constitu ting a serious drawback on the superiour navigation, furnished by Several of them to the interiour country. After we had crossed the river, under the auspices of a ferry man, who seemed very much like a stranger to the world in which we lived, we entered Dunstable in New-Hampshire. The land still continued to be a pine plain, of the same lean soil, for seve ral miles. As we entered Dunstable in Massachusetts, it began to rise into small swells, thinly dispersed, covered with oak, &c. and presenting a soil somewhat better. The houses, which we 250 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. had seen on the plain, appeared as if they were intended to accord with the soil. At one of them, which hung out a sign, informing us that it was an inn, we called for a dinner ; but could get noth ing either for ourselves or our horses. We had rode twenty- four miles without stopping; and were told, that there was no oth er inn in the neighbourhood. The case admitted of little delibe ration. It was therefore speedily resolved, that we would apply for the necessary entertainment at the first house, which should wear a promising appearance. We had made but little progress, when several good houses were in sight. One of these was soon pitched upon, with a determination, if importunity could prevail, not to take a refusal. Accordingly we rode up to it ; and sent in our message by a lad, who soon returned with an answer from his mistress, according with our wishes. The lad took charge of our horses ; and we were welcomed to the house by a respectable lady, and her agreeable family. A handsome dinner was speedi ly set before us ; accompanied, and followed, by a course of po lite, sensible conversation. In the progress of it we discovered that we were at the house of Mr. K. the Clergyman of the town. He was from home : a circumstance regretted both by Mrs. K. and ourselves. We had called for a dinner, with the declared purpose of paying for it. It is unnecessary to mention the em barrassment, into which we were thrown by this untoward fact. The proposal had been made, and our character committed. We were therefore compelled to repeat the disagreeable condition. It was, I need not say, very delicately declined, with a visible concern for our embarrassment. At the same time we.were po litely informed, that the family would esteem themselves amply compensated for the trouble which we thought we had occasion ed, if, whenever we might pass through Dunstable, we would give them the pleasure of entertaining us again. Dunstable was incorporated in 1746. In 1775, it contained 705 inhabitants ; in 1790, 632; in 1800, 862; in 1810, 1,049. The celebrated Captain John Lovewell, distinguished as a par tisan in Indian wars, was an inhabitant of Dunstable. This gal lant man, whose exploits were the theme of frequent conversation LETTER XXV. 251 when I was a boy, having gained some slight advantages in an ex cursion against these marauders, assembled a company of seven ty men in the year 1725 ; the third year of the war, which is still called Lovewell's war ; and set out on a second expedition. He was, however, obliged not long after to dismiss thirty of his fol lowers. With the remainder he proceeded through a part of the country, North of Winipiseogee lake, until a smoke, seen a little before sun-setting, advertised him, that he was near the enemy. Lovewell and his men concealed themselves till after midnight ; and then, advancing with great circumspection to the spot, found ten Indians asleep by a fire. All of them, except one, they kill ed outright ; Lovewell himself firing first, and dispatching two by a single discharge of his musket. The survivor, who was wound ed, attempted to fly ; but was seized by a dog, and held fast, until he was also killed. By this event an incursion, which had for some time been meditated, and was then actually commencing against New-Hampshire, was finally broken up. Encouraged by his success, and by the rewards which they re ceived for it at Boston, Lovewell with a body of forty-six men un dertook another expedition against the Indians at Pigwacket.* Before they reached the place of their destination, their number was reduced by various misfortunes to thirty-four. The remain der, having arrived at the confines of the Pigwacket settlements, heard, early in the morning, the discharge of a musket ; and saw an Indian standing on a point, jutting into a pond. The prece ding night they had heard several noises which they attributed to Indians ; and suspected that themselves were discovered, and that this man was placed there as a decoy. Having held a consulta tion, they left their packs on the North-Eastern side of the pond,! and went onward. Two parties of the savages, amounting to for ty-one, discovered, and counted, their packs ; and, finding that the number of their enemies was less than their own, placed themselves in ambush to wait their return. The Indian, whom * About Conway. t The ponds mentioned here are in the townships of Wakefield in New-Hamp shire, and Fryburgh in the District of Maine. 252 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. they had seen on the point, met them, and wounded Lovewell, and another man, with small shot ; but was killed by Lieutenant Wyman. The company then returned to their packs ; and were instantly attacked by the Indians. Lovewell, and eight of his men were killed outright : Lieutenant Farwell and two others were wounded. Some of the savages, also, were killed. The English, perceiving that the savages were endeavouring to surround them, retreated towards the pond ; and took their stand in a spot, partly sheltered by the nature of the ground. Here they fought with such success, that the Indians, after having vainly endeavoured both to allure, and to intimidate them to a surrender, and after having lost a number of their own people, withdrew ; and left the field to Wyman and his companions. Of this brave little band, twenty-three survived the engagement ; two were killed outright, after the first assault ; twelve were wounded ; and three of them fatally. Beside these three, two, Lieutenant, Farman and a cler gyman who accompanied the expedition as chaplain, died of their wounds. The remaining eighteen, after many severe sufferings, arrived safe ; and were handsomely rewarded. A party went from Dunstable soon after, and buried the bodies of the slain ; except four, whom they could not find ; and cut their names upon the forest trees, which grew on the spot. The public, also, made an honourable provision for their widows and children. It ought not to be omitted, that, when the party left their three wounded companions after the battle, one of them, Ensign Robbins, begged them to charge his musket, and place it by his side ; that, if the Indians should return, he might have the satisfaction of killing an other. The gallantry of this man, and of his companions, would in Grecian or Roman history have secured to them the wreath of immortality.* The Indians of Pigwacket were so terrified by this enterprize, that they left their habitations ; and did not return to them again until the end of the war. After dinner, we rode through a part of Dunstable, (Mass.) and arrived at Groton in the beginning of the evening. * One of them, named Thomas Ainsworth, was living in Brookfield, (Mass.) in 1793. LETTER XXV. 253 Dunstable is a small town, near the North- West corner of Mid dlesex County, which contained, in 1790, 59 houses, and 380 in habitants ; in 1800, 75 houses, and 485 inhabitants ; and, in 1810, 475 inhabitants. The surface here began to swell, and to be covered with oak, walnut, and chesnut. A better husbandry soon appeared; exhibiting proofs of thrift and prosperity. These ap pearances increased till we arrived at Groton ; where we found again the good land, and the substantial farming character, so re markable in the County of Worcester. Groton, in the early periods of its settlement, experienced its share of Indian depredations. It was incorporated in 1655. .In 1676, a body of savages entered it on the second of March, plun dered several houses, and carried off a number of cattle. On the ninth they ambushed four men, who were driving their carts, kill ed one, and took a second : but, while they were disputing about the manner of putting him to death, he escaped. On the thir teenth about four hundred of these people assaulted Groton again. The inhabitants, alarmed by the recent destruction of Lancaster, had retreated into five garrisoned houses. Four of these were within musket shot of each other. The fifth stood at the dis tance of a mile. Between the four neighbouring ones were gath ered all the cattle, belonging to the inhabitants. In the morning two of the Indians shewed themselves behind a hill, near one of the four garrisons, with an intention to decoy the inhabitants out of their fortifications. The alarm was immedi ately given. A considerable part of the men in this garrison, and several from the next, imprudently went out to surprise them ; when a large body, who had been lying in ambush for this pur pose, arose instantaneously, and fired upon them. The English fled. Another party of the Indians, atthe same time, came upon the rear of the nearest garrison, thus deprived of its defence, and began to pull down the palisades. The flying English retreated to the next garrison ; and the women and children, forsaken as they were, escaped, under the protection of Providence, to the same place of safety. The ungarrisoned houses in the town were then set on fire by the Savages. Vol. II. 33 254 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. In a similar manner they attempted to surprise the solitary gar rison : one of their people being employed to decoy the English out of it into an ambush in the neighbourhood. The watch, how ever, discovering the ambush, gave the alarm ; and prevented the mischief intended. The next day the Indians withdrew ; having burnt about forty dwelling houses, and the church, together with barns and out-houses. John Monoco, their leader, during the preceding day, with the same spirit, which is exhibited with so much vanity and haughtiness in the proclamations of General Burgoyne, the Duke of Brunswick when entering France, and General Le Clerk when attacking St. Domingo, insulted the in habitants of Groton with his former exploits in burning Lancas ter, and Medfield ; threatened that he would burn Groton, Chelmsford, Concord, and Boston; and declared, amid many taunts and blasphemies, that he could do whatever he pleased. His threatening against Groton he executed; but, instead of burn ing the other towns, he was taken a prisoner a few months after- Wards, led through the streets of Boston with a halter about his neck, and hanged. His three compeers in haughtiness met with a fate, differing in form from his ; but by the inglorious and miser able end of their efforts are exhibited to mankind, as solemn mo nitions of the madness, as well as impiety, of arrogating to a hu man arm that disposal of events, which belongs only to God. One would think, that Sennacherib and Rabshakeh had long since taught this lesson effectually. For Monoco ignorance may be pleaded : for the Christian boasters there is no excuse. As we arrived at Groton in the evening, and left it early in the morning ; and as our road passed by the body of the town at some distance on the right, we had no opportunity of observing it particularly. As we saw it, it appeared to be a very pretty vil lage, pleasantly situated on an easy slope, and containing a con siderable number of good houses, a Church, and an Academy. The country around it was apparently fertile. In 1790, the number of inhabitants was 1,840 ; in 1800, 1,802 ; and, in 1810, 1,886. The number of houses, in 1800, was 230. It includes two Congregations : one of them a Presbyterian proper. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XXVI. Shirley — Lancaster — Captivity of Mrs. Rowlandson — Mr. Sawyer — Sterling — Princeton — Rutland — Oakham — New Braintree — Brimfield— Monson— South- Wilbraham. Dear Sir, We left Groton on Friday October 13th, and entering the County of Worcester rode through Shirley, Lancaster, Stirling, and Princeton, to Rutland : thirty-five miles. The road, for one of no more importance, was tolerably good. This morning we saw the first frost of the season. We passed only through a skirt of Shirley, and perhaps through another of Harvard. The face of the country was agreeable ; and the soil good. Shirley was incorporated in 1753, and Har vard in 1732. Shirley contained, in 1790, 99 houses and 677 in habitants; in 1800, 105 houses and 713 inhabitants; and in 1810, 813. Harvard, in 1790, contained 198 houses, and 1,387 inhabit ants ; in 1800, 195 houses, and 1,319 inhabitants ; and in 1810, 1,431. Lancaster, the next in our course, is a beautiful township, sit uated on the river Nashua, a considerable tributary stream of the Merrimac. The surface is extremely pleasant, and even elegant. It consists of hills, vallies, and plains, finely interspersed with groves and orchards ; and a succession of Intervals, to the amount of three thousand acres, border the meanders of the Nashua, and are annually overflowed, and manured, by its freshets. This va riety of surface furnishes suitable soils for all the produce of the climate. The lands, at the same time, are rich, and the crops abundant. In the North-Eastern part of this township a quarry of slate, the first I believe, wrought in the United States, and sup posed to be inferiour to none of those which have since been dis covered, furnishes a plentiful supply of this valuable material, not only for the neighbourhood, but also for other parts of the country. 256 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. The houses in Lancaster are in many instances, very good ; and appear obviously to be the habitations of gentlemen. A greater degree of taste is Conspicuous than in various other places, where the buildings are equally expensive. A number of polish ed people have always resided here: and the inhabitants at large have been distinguished for industry, sobriety, and good order. One of them, Colonel Caleb Wilder, was the author of the meth od of making potash in those large vessels, which are now known by the name of potash kettles. Cumberry pond, a small piece of water in this township, is said to rise two feet above its common level immediately before a storm.* If there be no error in this account, of which I confess my suspicion, it is probably a singular fact ; and well deserves a thorough investigation. Lancaster was the first settlement in the County of Worcester; having been sold by Sholan, Sachem of Nashua, to Thomas King of Watertown and his associates, in the year 1645. A few fami lies then planted themselves in it ; and obtained an act of the Legislature, incorporating it by the name of Lancaster in 1653. Both Sholan and his successor were uniformly friendly to the in habitants ; and during twenty-two years they lived in peace and safety. In 1675, Philip engaged the Nashuas in the scheme of extirpating the English. On the 1 Oth of February, 1 676, he march ed against Lancaster with about fifteen hundred Indians: Narrha gansetts, Wampanoags, Nashuas, and others. At that time there were in the town about sixty families. The savages burnt most of the houses, and among them several, which were garrisoned. One of these was the house of the Rev. Mr. Rowlandson, the minister; who happened to be absent. After assaulting this man sion two hours they set it on fire ; killed twelve persons ; and took the rest prisoners. Mrs. Rowlandson was among the cap tives, together with one of her sisters, and the children of both. Another sister, her husband, and son, were among the slain. Mrs. Rowlandson was wounded by a musket ball, which went through her side, and at the same time through the hand, and bowels, of * Whitney. LETTER XXVI. 257 the infant, which she held in her arms. The slain were strip ped, mangled, and left naked. On a neighbouring hill, the In dians held a feast in consequence of their victory; and exhibited the spirit of triumph with all the excesses of savage exultation. The next day they began their march : and this unfortunate lady carried her child in her arms till, her strength being exhausted, she fell. They then furnished her with a horse, but without a saddle. She attempted to ride, but again fell. It began to snow. She gathered a few sticks, made a small fire, and sate near it up on the snow, with her child in her arms, till the next morning. From Wednesday night till Saturday night she had no other sus tenance but water. By the advice of an English captive she put oak leaves upon her wound, and obtained a cure. Nine days she held her child in her arms, or upon her lap. During this time it had received nothing but cold water. At the close of the ninth day it expired, and was buried by the Indians. She was then sold by the Narrhagansett Indian, who took her captive, to Quan- nopin, a Sagamore, who married the sister of Philip's* wife ; a woman, in whom Mrs. Rowlandson found a most uncomfortable mistress. Soon after, a party of the Indians went upon the expe dition to Medfield, which I have elsewhere mentioned. After their return, one of them gave her a Bible; which appears to have been her chief support, and consolation, during her cap tivity. The latter part of this time she had continued with a numerous body of the Savages, not far from Petersham ; in the Western part of this County. But the Indians, having been informed, that a strong body of the English was in pursuit of them, decamped sud denly, and hastened with the utmost expedition into the County of Hampshire ; crossing in their way Paquage, or Miller's river ; where the English, apparently from an apprehension, that they should not be able to overtake them, gave up the pursuit. The Indians continued their march to Connecticut river ; and crossed *The name of this woman was Wettimore, another proof that the Mohekaneews used the letter R. Quannopin had two other wives, and lived indifferently with any of the three as he pleased. 258 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. it, probably, into Gill, or Bernardston. Here they found Philip.* The sachem treated her with civility; invited her into his wigwam; and offered her the common round of savage kindness. While she was at this place, the Indians went upon an expedition against Northampton. Speedily after they crossed the Connecticut again; and, with many interruptions, returned into the County of Wor cester. During this part of her pilgrimage, as well as the former, Mrs. Rowlandson went through almost every suffering, but death. She was beaten, kicked, turned out of doors, refused food, insulted in the grossest manner, and at times almost starved. Nothing but experience can enable us to conceive what must be the hunger of a person, by whom the discovery of six acrons, and two chesnuts, was regarded as a rich prize. At times, in order to make her mis erable, they announced to her the death of her husband, and her children. One of the savages, of whom she enquired concerning her son, told her, that his master had, at a time which he specifi ed, killed and roasted him ; that himself had eaten a piece of him, as big as his two fingers ; and that it was delicious meat. On va rious occasions they threatened to kill her. Occasionally, but for short intervals only, she was permitted to see her children ; and suffered her own anguish over again in their miseries. She was also obliged, while hardly able to walk, to carry a heavy burden over hills, and through rivers, swamps, and marshes ; and that in the most inclement seasons. These evils were repeated daily ; and, to crown them all, she was daily saluted with the most bar barous and insolent accounts of the burning and slaughter, the tortures and agonies, inflicted by them upon her countrymen. It is to be remembered that Mrs. Rowlandson was tenderly and delicately educated, and as ill fitted to encounter these distresses, as persons, who have received such an education, now are, in this and other countries. There was, however, among the Savages a marked difference of character. Some of them, both men and women, treated her * This is one among many decisive proofs, that Philip was the soul of the war throughout New-England. LETTER XXVI, 259 with kindness. None of them exhibited so much insolence to her as her mistress. This woman felt all the haughtiness of rank, as much as if she had been an European or Asiatic princess ; and spent almost as much time in powdering her hair, painting her face, and adorning herself with ear-rings, bracelets, and other or naments : a part of their plunder from the English.* The sufferings of Mrs. Rowlandson's captivity were terminated the 3d of May. Mr. Hoare, a gentleman of Concord, under a commission from the Government, redeemed her from the In dians for twenty pounds, contributed for this purpose by Mr. Usher and some ladies in Boston. At her return she found Mr. Rowlandson in good health ; arid heard the joyful intelli gence, that her two children, and the son of her sister, were also redeemed ; and soon saw them restored to her embraces. The kindness, which the family now experienced from their coun trymen, was such, as Christians might be expected to exhibit to their fellow-Christians in a case of this extreme nature. The whole number of prisoners, which were taken during this invasion of Lancaster was forty-two : more than half of them women and children. These the Savages preserved ; but they killed many of the men. About six weeks after the inhabitants left the town ; and all the buildings, except two, were burnt. In 1680 Lancaster began to be settled again ; and enjoyed the blessings of peace for twelve years. In 1692 the Savages renew- * On a particular occasion which occurred during Mrs. Rowlandson's captivity, these Indians had a dance. The company seems to have been composed chiefly of persons of distinction. Among others, Quannopin and his wife were present, and were dressed with great splendour. Wettimore was covered with a profusion of wampum ; and her arms, from the elbow to the hand were covered with bracelets. " She wore," to use Mrs. Rowlandson's language, " handfuls of necklaces abouther neck: her stockings were red, and of a fine texture : her shoes were white : her face was painted : and her hair was covered with powder." The music to which they danced was partly singing, 'and partly beating upon a kettle. While they were dancing the company threw wampum to the bystanders. Wettimore seems to have been distinguished from all the other Indian women by haughtiness of spirit and demeanour. She treated Mrs. Rowlandson with the same insolence which a West-Indian dame sometimes exhibits to her slave ; and was not less remarkable for the want of every humane feeling than for her pride. 260 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. ed their assaults upon this unfortunate town. In this and the five succeeding years they destroyed a considerable number of the inhabitants ; and among others the Rev. John Whiting, their minister. In 1 704, in the war commonly called Queen Anne's war, a large body of the French and Indians, originally destined for the destruction of Northampton, but diverted from their de sign by the preparations which they found made for their recep^ tion, fell upon Lancaster the 31st of July. They were warmly and resolutely resisted by the inhabitants, aided by a party of sol diers in the garrison commanded by Capt. Tyng, and a company from Marlborough commanded by Capt. Howe. But, being great ly superiour in numbers, they drove the English into the garri son ; burnt the Church, and six other buildings ; destroyed many cattle ; and slew several of the inhabitants. A number of men, from other towns, came to their assistance before night, and for ced the enemy to retreat ; but could not overtake them. They were supposed to have suffered considerably in the conflict. The same year Mr. Gardiner, elected by the inhabitants of Lancaster as their pastor, was, while he was keeping watch, heard walking by one of the garrison, mistaken for an enemy, and shot. The same year, a Mr. Sawyer and his whole family, except his youngest son, were taken captive, and carried to Canada. Mr. Sawyer and his children were set free, in consequence of having built a saw-mill on the river Chamblee, (or Sorel,) and instructed the inhabitants in the management of it. This was the first saw mill, ever erected in Canada; nor was there, at that time, in the Province a single person, who had sufficient skill either to build, or to manage, such a structure. The Indians had determined to sacrifice Mr. Sawyer ; and refused to release him, notwithstanding he was demanded of them by the Governour. In the pursuit of this design they tied him to a stake ; and gathered around him such combustibles, as were fitted to consume him in a gradual and most excruciating manner. A French priest, sent, it would seem, by the Governour, suddenly came upon them ; and holding out a key, which he informed them would unlock the door of purgato ry, declared to them, that, unless they instantly released Mr. LETTER XXVI. 261 Sawyer, he would open that terrible place, and consign the whole body of them to its torments. Overwhelmed by this alarming denunciation, the Indians gave up their prisoner. It cannot be denied, therefore, that the belief of purgatory has, in one instance, been beneficial to man. In 1707, and 1710, the Savages renewed their incursions ; and did some mischief to the people of Lancaster. These were, how ever, their last sufferings from this source. Lancaster includes one Congregation. In 1790, it contained 214 houses, and 1,460 inhabitants ; in 1800, 230 houses and 1,584 inhabitants ; and, in 1810, 1,694. Sterling, the next township in this direction, was formerly in cluded within the bounds of Lancaster. Its surface is hilly, and rough. Hence it continued to be a forest until a late period. Like other modern settlements, it has had no share in Indian dep redations. Sterling was the residence of Sholan, the upright sa chem of the Nashuas. The soil of Sterling is rich, moist, and of course excellent graz ing ground. The inhabitants are substantial farmers, who have skilfully, and industriously, availed themselves of their advantages. There is a small village around the church, containing thirty or forty decent houses. Sterling was incorporated as a parish in 1 748, and as a town ship in 1781. This name was given to it in honour of Lord Ster ling. It includes one Congregation. The number of its inhab itants, in 1790, was 1,428, and of its houses 209; of its inhabit ants, in 1800, 1,614, of the houses, 234; in 1810, of its inhab itants 1,472. Princeton, another rich grazing township, borders upon ster ling at the South-West. The surface is high. The Church, and a considerable number of houses, stand on a hill; which the Hon. James Winthrop determined to be more than 1,200 feet above the level of the ocean. From this ground the prospect is very extensive. The Blue Hills in Milton, and the waters of Boston harbour, distant fifty miles, can both be seen here in a clear day. This hill is the base of the mountain, called Watchuset ; a single Vol. II. 34 262 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. eminence, of an obtuse, conical figure, standing about two miles North of the church. The height of this mountain, as determined by the same gentleman, is 3,012 feet above the level of the ocean. It is visible throughout a great part of this State, and in many places in the neighbouring States. The Church in Princeton is a handsome building, but profusely ornamented. The houses of the inhabitants, and the appearance of their farms, are sufficient indications of prosperity; and the people are distinguished for industry, sobriety, and sound morals. The Rev. Thomas Prince, formerly one of the ministers of the old South Church in Boston, was the owner of a large tract of land in this township ; which from him derived its name. Mr. Gill, for some time Lieutenant-Governour of Massachusetts, mar ried the only daughter of this gentleman ; and after her decease, the family estate came into his hands. On that part of it, which lies in Princeton, he built a house, which, connected with its ap purtenances, is more splendid than any other in the interiour of the State. Princeton was originally a part of Rutland ; and was incorpo rated in 1759. In 1790, it contained 144 houses and 1,016 in habitants ; in 1800, 148 houses and 1,021 inhabitants; and, in 1810, 1,062. We left the country road for the sake of seeing the seat of Mr. Gill. To shorten our way from this spot, we took a by-path, which, we were told, would conduct us directly to Rutland. In this part of our course, by following directions imperfectly given, and doubtfully understood, we came very near being lost for the night. After perplexing ourselves for several miles, we reached Rutland before nine ; but found much less agreeable fare in our inn, than we had met with at Groton the preceding evening. Saturday, October 14th, we left our disagreeable accommoda tions early ; and rode through the skirts of Oakham and New- Braintree, Brookfield, and the skirts of Western, to Brimfield; twenty-nine miles. Our road, through a considerable part of the distance, was stony, ill-repaired, and very disagreeable. LETTER XXIV. 263 Rutland is a part of the same elevated ground, which has been mentioned. The waters of a single spring in this township, sepa rating into two streams, are emptied, one into the Merrimac, and the other into the Connecticut ; and join the ocean at places, one hundred and fifty miles distant from each other. There is, there fore, a continual descent from this spot to Massachusetts Bay, and to the Sound. The surface, soil, agriculture, and other characteristics of Rut land, are similar to those of Princeton. This township was purchased of the Indians in 1686 ; but was not incorporated until 1 722. The inhabitants suffered less from Savage depredations, than many of their neighbours. In one of their incursions, in 1723, the Indians killed the Rev. Mr. Willard, who had been a little before chosen the minister of this town, and two sons of a Mr. Stevens ; one of the deacOns of the church. Two more of his sons they took at the same time, and carried them to Canada. The eldest of these was the intrepid Phineas Stevens, who afterwards commanded at Charlestown ; and of whom such honourable mention has been already made in the course of these letters. He was released the following year; and amply retributed to his captors the injuries, which they had done to his family and fellow-citizens. In the year 1790, Rutland contained 1,072 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,202 inhabitants, and 176 houses; and, in 1810, 1,231 in habitants. The country, lying on the road between Rutland and Brook- field, consists of the Eastern skirts of Oakham, and New-Brain- tree ; of which we saw little else, beside a wilderness, variegated here and there with a solitary field, and a miserable cottage. The land was lean, and very stony : and the road for a conside rable distance bordered by a swamp ; one of the dullest and most forlorn, which I remember. No place could be a fitter spot for an Indian Powaw; and hardly any, less desirable for civilized beings. Oakham is said to be one of the least, and New-Braintree one of the most fertile, townships in the County of Worcester. 264 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Oakham contained in 1790, 772 ; in 1800, 801 ; in 1810, 848 inhabitants. New-Braintree contained in 1790, 939 ; in 1800, 875 ; in 1810, 912 inhabitants. When we entered the North parish of Brookfield, the scene was reversed in a moment. The surface became beautiful ; the agriculture excellent ; the houses good ; and the road bordered every where by ample proofs of prosperity. But of this town I have said every thing, necessary, in a former letter. In our passage from Brookfield to Brimfield, after crossing a plain, we ascended obliquely, and therefore easily, the Lyme range. It is inhabited by farmers, at little distances, throughout the whole extent. The soil is moderately good ; the houses are indifferent; and, with some exceptions, the inhabitants exhibit few marks of thrift. We arrived at Brimfield before sun-set ; and continued there until Monday morning. On Sunday I dined with Mr. Eaton; late ly apppointed Consul at Tunis. At his house, also, I spent the evening, and lodged.* The next morning, October 16th, Mr. S. * As this gentleman held a conspicuous station for several years in the service of the United States, it is proper to give a few short notices of him. General William Eaton, who was born in the year 1764, was a native of Wood stock, in Connecticut. He was educated at Dartmouth College, where he took the degree of A. B. in 1790. While in College, and for some time after he left it, his support was derived from his own exertions, in teaching school. In March 1792 he was appointed a Captain in the army of the United States, and joined his regiment in the Western country the next year ; where he continued until 1797, when he re ceived the appointment of Consul at Tunis. While in this station, he was indefatiga ble in his efforts to maintain the interests of the United States with the Barbary Pow ers ; and after much labour he accomplished also the liberation of the crews of six Danish vessels from captivity. In 1803 Mr. Eaton returned to America ; and in the following year left his family and country, and sailed for the coast of Africa, as Navy Agent of the United States to the Barbary Powers. The most brilliant events in the course of General Eaton's life were his march from Alexandria in Egypt, across the desart of Barca, and the capture of Deme ; in which were displayed the utmost energy, perseverance, resolution, and decision of character. After the conclusion of peace in 1806, he returned to his friends and family at Brimfield in Massachusetts, where he resided chiefly until his death, winch took place on the first of June, 1 807.— Pub. LETTER XXVI. 265 being detained by business, 1 1 left him at Brimfield; and rode to Somers, through Monson, and South Wilbraham : nineteen miles. The road was moderately good. Brimfield is situated on the Eastern part of the Lyme range ; and is therefore made up of hills and vallies. The centre of the town is a pretty expansion, in the form of the Roman Y ; in the right arm of which spreads a handsome lake, about three-fourths of a mile in length, and one half of a mile in breadth ; furnishing a fine variety of the landscape. Near the junction of the arms with the stem, stands the church ; an ancient structure, small, and ill- repaired, surrounded by a scattered village, consisting of some de cent, and more indifferent, houses. When I passed through this town in 1807, I found it greatly improved in its appearance. The inhabitants had built a new and beautiful church, and a considerable number of new houses. Many others they had also repaired ; and had thus given it an en tirely new aspect. The soil of Brimfield is generally good ; and the country rich ly watered with springs and brooks. The inhabitants, together with those of Monson and South Wilbraham, have, to a greater extent than I have elsewhere observed, availed themselves of this advantage, by turning these waters upon their meadows and pas tures. This, the cheapest, and for meadows the best, of all ma nures, might with similar advantage be spread over a great part of New-England ; which is generally composed of hills and val lies, and every where watered by a multitude of little streams. The profits, which would result from this easy, cheap, and neat husbandry, can scarcely be calculated. In a country, where al most every farmer can, not only observe and imitate, but reason also, and readily form general truths from particular facts, one would expect that such a practice would be rapidly extended. But improvement, like the heathen goddess of justice, seems ev ery where to be lame, at least in one foot ; and to make a slow and languid progress from place to place. Brimfield was incorporated in 1731. In 1790, it contained 172 houses and 1,211 inhabitants; in 1800, 193 houses and 1,384 in habitants; and, in 1810, 1,325. 266 JOURNEY TO. THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Monson lies on the same range ; and, as a township, differs lit tle from that of Brimfield in soil and cultivation. It was incorpo rated in 1760. In 1790, it contained 188 houses and -1,331 in habitants; in 1800, 223 houses and 1,635 inhabitants; and, in 1810, 1,674. South Wilbraham lies also on the same range, and differs little from the places just mentioned, as to its general appearance. It is however a parish only; the second in the township of Wilbra ham. This township was incorporated in 1763. In 1790, it con tained 223 houses, and 1,555 inhabitants; in 1800, 257 houses, and 1,743 inhabitants; and, in 1810, 1,776. I reached Somers before dinner. Having dined, I left the inn; lost my road ; and wandered about with some perplexity a con siderable time. At length I arrived at the house of the Rev. Doc tor Backus, minister of this town ; where I spent the rest of the day, and a considerable part of the day following. I am, dear Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XXVII, County of Hampshire — Rev. Dr. Backus. Dear Sir, As I am now bidding adieu to the County of Hampshire, I will finish my observations upon this part of the country with a few general remarks. The County of Hampshire was formed in 1662. It is bounded almost equally by New-Hampshire and Vermont, on the North ; by the County of Worcester on the East ; by Connecticut on the South ; and by Berkshire on the West. It is the largest County in Massachusetts; containing near two thousand square miles, and extending fifty miles in length, from North to South ; and about forty in breadth from East to West. It is naturally divided into three great parts ; the Connecticut Valley, the Lyme Range on the East, and the range of the Green Mountains on the West. The Valley is of different breadths in different places ; but may be assumed as one third of the whole. A greater part of the County lies on the Western, than on the Eastern range. I have already described the towns on Connecticut River at .sufficient length ; and stated the soil and appearance of the val ley. The lands on the Eastern and Western borders are compo sed wholly of hills and mountains, and the interjacent valleys. Those on the East are of a moderately good soil, interspersed with rich, and with poor, tracts. Those on the West are gene rally fertile ; and, particularly, are excellent grazing grounds. Several parts of them also yield wheat. This County furnishes in its various soils abundant crops of all the grains, and other agricultural and hortulan productions, and fruits, found in New-England. There is, perhaps, no species of soil in the world which it does not contain. The winter on the mountains is severe ; the summer mild and cool. Both seasons are warmer in the valley. The winter is here more uniform, and, I think, much more pleasant, than on 268 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAIN3. the coast. Snow usually commences from the middle to the last of December; and continues from the 10th to the 20th of March. On the mountains it lies commonly from four to six weeks longer than in the valley ; and somewhat longer on the Northern side of the range of Mount Tom, where it crosses Connecticut river, than on the Southern. A pleasanter spring is not found any where in this country, than in the third expansion ; nor a more serene and beautiful autumn. There are four considerable rivers, which unite with the Con necticut in this County : Miller's river and Chequapee on the East ; Deerfield river and Agawam on the West. The second and fourth run through almost the whole breadth of the State, be fore their confluence with the Connecticut. Mill streams, brooks, and springs, water every part of it. There is probably no tract of equal extent in the United States, which can boast of a health ier climate, or which js less visited by epidemic or endemic dis eases. The scenery is often remarkably delightful. The character of the inhabitants of the Valley has been already described. The settlements on the hills were made at a much later period. Brimfield, the oldest of them, was incorporated in 1731 ; ninety-six years after Springfield, the oldest settlement in the valley. The average proportion amounts to more than one hundred years. In the first half of the eighteenth century, colo nists from the North of Ireland planted themselves in Palmer, Westham, Greenwich, and Pelham, in the Eastern, and another at Blandford, and afterwards another still at Colerain, in the Western, division of this County. In all these places a consider able number of their descendants still remain. Except Brimfield, Blandford, Pelham, New-Salem, Granville, Greenwich, and Mon son, all the townships on the hills have been incorporated since the year 1760 ; and the greater part of them since 1770. The towns in the Valley were, in the strict sense, a frontier, until af ter the reduction of Canada. The rest of the hill country was settled by emigrants from va rious parts of New-England. During a short period these people LETTER XXVII. 269 exhibited that variety of opinions, and manners, which they brought with them : but for many years they have worn the com mon, sober, orderly character, which has ever prevailed in the Valley. No County in the State has uniformly discovered so firm an adherence to order, and good government ; or a higher regard to learning, morals and religion. They are also, as a body, industrious and thriving; and possess that middle state of property, which so long, and so often, has been termed Golden ; because in this situation the best charac ter, and the most sincere enjoyment, are usually found. Few are poor; and few are rich. Those, who are styled poor in New: England, particularly in the country, are far removed from Eu ropean poverty, and from that which is found in the large cities on this side of the Atlantic. A poor man, here, has usually a comfortable house ; a little land ; a cow ; swine ; poultry ; a few sheep ; and not unfrequently a horse. Himself and his family are comfortably clad and fed. If they are not ; it is because he or they are sick,-lazy, or vicious. Few poor families fail of break fasting upon tea ; and all of them eat flesh once or twice every day. Their children, also, are taught to read, write, and keep accounts ; and many of them become persons of property and consequence. All of them go, or may go, decently clad, to the house of God. The wealth of this County is, I think, somewhat less than that of Worcester; partly because more of its settle ments are recent ; and partly because the lands are upon an av erage somewhat inferiour. Upon the whole, few tracts in this country furnish a more de sirable residence, or exhibit a happier state of society, than the County of Hampshire. In the general census of 1 790, the Marshal's deputies who enu merated the inhabitants of Massachusetts proper, numbered not only the persons, but the houses, and the families. It is to be regretted, that the same thing was not done throughout the Uni ted States. The whole number of houses in the County of Hampshire was 9,181 ; and the whole number of families, 9,617. The number of families exceeds the number of houses by 436. Vol. II. 35 270 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Four hundred and thirty-six houses, therefore, contain here two Families each ; and 8,745, one family each. The whole number of people in this County, as appears by the same Census, was then 59,681. Of course, the number of persons in a family was very nearly six and a quarter. This number may, I presume, be assumed as the average number throughout New-England, except on the coast, In the County of Essex, the whole number of houses was 7,644 ; and the whole number of families, 10,883. Of course 3,239 hou ses contained two families each ; and 4,405 contained one each ; or, what is probably nearer the truth, a number of houses, some what less than this, contained, the principal part of them, two ; some of them three ; and some perhaps four, families. The County of Essex contained at this time 57,913 inhabitants. The families in this County then amounted to five and a third per sons each. For this difference between Hampshire and Essex I am unable to account ; particularly, as the commercial towns in this County, Newburyport, Gloucester, Salem, Marblehead, and Beverly, hold, in this respect, the same proportion, as the rest of the County. The number of houses in these five towns was 3,257 and the number of families 5,079. 1,822 houses, therefore, in these towns contained two families each; and 1,435, one each: i. e. with the exception made above. In Boston, at the same time, there were 2,376 houses, 3,343 families, and 18,038 inhabitants. In Boston, therefore, the num ber of families exceeds the number of houses by 967. Of the 3,343 families in this town, 1,934 occupy 967 houses, or less ; and 1,409 houses contain only, one family each. The number of persons in a family in Boston is five and a third, very nearly. To bring these computations nearer to exactness* Houses. 1 Families. Excess. No. of persons in a family. Hampshire contains - 9,181 - 9,617 - 436 - ^ Essex do. - 7,644 10,883 - 3,239 - &i The five towns, do. - 3,257 - 5,079 - 1,822 - Si Boston do. - 2,376 - 3,343 - 967 - si :tter xxvn. 271 Persons. Persons inhabiting houses containing more than one family. No. of persons in each house, nearly. 59,681 2,974 ¦ 6* 57,913 16,263 7£ 27,026 9,711 H 18,038 5,132 7i Hampshire contains Essex, do. Five towns, do. Boston, do. From this statement you will see, that a material difference ex ists in New-England between the inland country, and the coast. As there are in the County of Hampshire only 436 families out of 9,617, who are unprovided with separate habitations ; and as there are few houses taken upon lease in this County, you will perceive, that almost all the families, here, live in their own houses. A considerable proportion of fhe instances, in which two families live in one house, is made up of those, in which a new married son lives in the same house with his parents during a short period, while he is providing a house for himself. The number of poor families therefore, which are without habitations of their own, must be reduced much below 436 ; probably, half at least ; and more probably, two thirds. It is thus evident, that almost all the inhabitants of this County are independent, in this high sense ; that they live in houses, and on lands, which are their own, and which they hold in fee simple. It is further evident from this statement, that the number of persons in a family, in the County of Hampshire, exceeds that in the other places specified || ; or almost one person. The num ber of servants in the commercial towns is undoubtedly much greater than in the interiour. The number of persons in a fami ly therefore, exclusively of servants, must bear a still less propor tion. This difference in the commercial towns may perhaps be estimated at one and a half in the whole. But as the servants are in many instances taken from poor families, included within the numbers specified, and by no means universally from the interi our, a deduction must be made from this proportion : how great, it is impossible for me to determine. Still, from these premises, indefinite as they are, it may, I think, be safely concluded, that 272 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. marriages are more universal in the County of Hampshire, and in the interiour at large, than on the coast. To celibacy there fore, as one cause, and to greater mortality among children, as another, must this difference be imputed. From these data, al so, it is easily seen, that commerce, and the unequal division of property which is the consequence of it, lessen the ability of a large proportion of the community to provide habitations for their offspring. The whole number of houses, and families, in Massachusetts, as returned in the census specified, was Houses. Families. Excess. Suffolk, 6,355 8,038 1,683 Essex, 7,644 10,883 3,239 Middlesex, - 5,998 7,580 1,582 Hampshire, - 9,181 9,617 436 Plymouth, 4,240 5,173 933 Bristol, 4,514 5,541 1,027 Barnstable, - 2,343 2,889 546 Dukes, and } Nantucket, 5 1,013 1,430 417 Worcester, - 8,613 9,729 1,116 Berkshire, - 4,476 4,899 423 Total. 54,377 65,779 11,402 „; The amount of the number of persons in each family was 5.91 ; in the County of Hampshire, 6.50; in Essex, 7.50; in Berkshire, 6.2 ; in Worcester, 5.9 ; in Boston, 7.33 ; and in the five towns, 8.33. These may serve as specimens, by which to estimate the several parts of New-England, and probably of the whole Ameri can Hepublic ; since they involve every degree, and mode, of population. According to this estimate, the whole number of families in New-England, in the year 1790, was 169,341; in 1800, 208,986; and, in 1810,249,488. The number of houses in Massachusetts was, in 1790, 54,377 ; and the whole number of houses in New-England, estimated from LETTER XXVII. 273 this number, was in 1790, 144,224; in 1800, 176,159; and, in 1810, 212,482. In a compound estimate of the number of houses in New-Eng land, formed on the census of the State of Massachusetts and that of the County of Hampshire, the whole number of houses in New- England may be estimated, in 1790, at 148,000; in 1800, at 181,- 000 ; and, in 1810, at 221,000. As the whole interiour country of New-England, and a great part of the coast, in the manner of population strongly resembles the County of Hampshire; this es timate, which I have intentionally made in round numbers, may be considered as very near the truth. If it be admitted ; 40,000 houses have been built in this country within ten years, preceding 1811 ; beside those, which have been erected in the places of such, as have been burnt, or taken down. Almost all these build ings are decent : a great number of them neat ; and a considera ble portion of them handsome. Since these journeys were made, this noble country, after hav ing existed as a fine Doric column of industry, good order, morals, learning, and religion, in Massachusetts for more than a century was by an unwise Legislature broken into three parts. Of its ru ins were formed the three Gounties, of Franklin on the North, Hampshire in the Middle, and Hampden on the South ; each of them extending through the original breadth of the County of Hampshire. One political purpose, intended to be accomplish ed by this disruption, was to destroy the firm order, and sound principles, of the inhabitants. How far the plan will succeed time alone can discover. From analogy it may be concluded, or at least rationally feared, that the inhabitants will lose some part of their elevation of character. Little Counties almost of course have little officers, and little concerns : and the existence of these is but too commonly followed by a contraction of views, a dim inution of measures, a destruction of influence, and a deteriora tion of character.* * The population of these Counties was as follows : 1810. 1820. Hampshire, - - - 24,553 - - 26,487 Franklin, - - - 27,301 - - 29,268 Hampden, - - 24,421 - - 28,021— Pub. 274 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. At Somers I continued till the afternoon of Tuesday 17th; when being rejoined by Mr . S. we proceeded through a corner of Ellington, and the townships of East- Windsor and East Hart ford, to Hartford : twenty miles. The road, after leaving South Wilbraham, enters upon the great plain, which I have mention ed as the principal part of the second Expansion, on the Eastern side of Connecticut river. Most of it is good ; and with mode rate labour might be made excellent. Partly on this plain and partly on the Western side of the Lyme Range, lies the township of Somers. The plain, is here, and in the towns South of it, a warm, kind soil ; and when dressed with gyp sum, it amply repays the labours of the husbandman, The hills are generally fertile ; but in some instances hard and stony. The inhabitants are farmers ; the appearance of whose houses, and fields, proves them to be in easy circumstances. They form one Congregation ; amounting, in 1 756, to 900 inhabitants ; in 1 774, to 1,027; Blacks 3; in 1790,, to 1,125; and in 1800, to 1354; and, in 1810, to 1,210. Doctor Backus, when I was at his house, had for sometime been struggling with a decaying constitution ; and has since left the world. From me he well merits as a class-mate, and friend, as a man of learning and piety, and especially as an eminent Min ister of the Gospel, a particular character. He was born at Norwich, November 5th, 1 749 ; and was bereft of both his parents in his childhood ; and was thus cast on the care and direction of his friends. The love of knowledge which distinguished him when a man, he strongly exhibited when a child. This determined his friends to give him a liberal education, and to make up the deficiency of his patrimony for this purpose by their own contributions. Under their auspices he entered Yale College in 1765; and received the degree of A. B. in 1769, and that of A.M. in 1772. The Rev. Dr. Hart of Preston, instructed him in Theol ogy. In 1773, he began to preach; and was immediately invited , to Somers. When he arrived here, he found the people distract ed with feuds, and disorder. A man, named Samuel Ely, after ward the great fomenter of discontent, confusion, and sedition) in LETTER XXVII. 275 Massachusetts, had, some years before, offered himself as a preacher to thts Congregation, and obtained a kind of settlement among them. Ely was an unlicensed and disorderly preacher ; and could not obtain an ordination. His character even at that time, although, less known and probably less corrupted, than it was afterwards, was yet so stained, as to render it impossible for him to enter the Ministry. But he possessed the spirit, and, so far as his slender abilities would permit, the arts, of a demagogue in an unusual degree. He was voluble, vehement in address, bold, persevering, active, brazen-faced in wickedness, and under the accusation, and proof, of his crimes would still wear a face of serenity, and make strong professions of piety. At the same time he declared himself, every where, the friend of the suffering and oppressed, and the champion of violated rights. Wherever he went, he industriously awakened the jealousy of the humble, and ignorant, against all men of superiour reputation, as haughty insolent and oppressive. Jealousy he knew to be, among human passions, the most easily and certainly kindled. Both his charac ter, and his circumstances, were in his own view deplorable ; and he felt therefore, that he had nothing to lose, beside his neck: a loss too uncommon in this State, to be seriously dreaded, except in the case of murder. Of course, he undauntedly applied him self to any wickedness, which promised him either consequence, or bread. The Association of New-London County had, someyears before, when his character was very imperfectly known, or even suspect ed, licensed him to preach ; rashly, in my view at the time, and in that of many others, notwithstanding all his labour, and care, to pass for a man of piety. The issue ought to be a perpetual warn ing to all other associations to license suddenly no man. His li cense either ceased, or was taken away, at the end of six months ; and was never renewed. When he offered himself to the people of Somers, they had for some time been divided, and contentious. Somers, therefore, was a theatre, exactly suited to his wishes. In spite of the opin ion, and remonstrances, of the cool and prudent, inhabitants, the 276 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. majority, after hearing him a while, determined that he should be their Minister. As no real Minister would be concerned in or daining him ; the people concluded to ordain him themselves. This work they performed in their own way ; and Ely was estab lished in the desk. But he could not conceal his character for any length of time, even from his abettors. Their troubles were increased, instead of being lessened : and at length compelled them, after some years, to call a Council of the neighbouring Ministers and Churches, to quiet their difficulties. This Council prevailed upon Ely to sub mit himself to an examination of his moral and literary character, as a Candidate, in the customary manner. They accordingly ex amined him in learning, and science ; and found and pronounced him to be wholly unqualified, even in this respect, to be a preach er. Of course, he was compelled to leave Somers. . From Somers he removed into an obscure township in the County of Hampshire ; and, finding the inhabitants burdened by the calamities of the war, and complaining of their sufferings, he applied himself, with but too much success, to excite trouble and insurrection. He was here a stranger to the people at large ; and as such, was listened to without suspicion. He soon forced him self into the hands of the law ; and was confined in prison ; and at length became so odious, as to be incapable even of doing harm. The remainder of his life was a tissue, woven of nothing but guilt and infamy. Dr. Backus came to Somers soon after Ely left the desk. The people, whom he found in the miserable situation already descri bed, he gradually brought back to order and peace. In August 1.774 he was ordained their Minister. No Congregation has, per haps, more clearly shewn the beneficent influence of the Evan gelical Ministry, than his. From the time of his settlement to this day, they have been a people eminently happy. To his preaching, counsels, and example, they themselves impute this wonderful change. Dr. Backus was chosen Professor of Divinity in Dartmouth College ; and afterwards in Yale College : but he declined the ;.: LETTER XXVH. 277 invitation in both cases. Few men in the world are probably better qualified for this office. His modes of thinking, communi cation, and life, were all peculiarly suited to the Theological chair. Clear and discriminating in his conceptions ; affectionate ; distin guished for ease and precision, in his language ; and unusually exemplary, and amiable, in his deportment ; he invited by his in structions attention, and research ; and left the strongest impres sions of their truth,rwisdom, and importance. Few instructors have probably been better beloved, or remembered with more honour, by their pupils. Of these it is said, he educated between forty and fifty for the desk ; every one of whom, if living, will at test to the justice of these observations. As a preacher, Doctor Backus was calm, affectionate, solemn, interesting, and persuasive. His style and elocution were artless, manly, and pleasing. His sentiments were in a high degree evangelical, and without a suspicion, seated in the heart. His doctrines, and life, were such as become, and evince, godliness. His reputation was, of course, such, as placed him in the first class of divines. His temper, originally ardent, he had from early youth laboriously reduced under the controul of judgment : and after he became a man, almost the only appearance which it ever made, was in the earnestness, which it lent to his addresses, and in the kindness, with which it invested all his affections. I have not known a wiser man. Prudence strongly marked almost every thing, which he said, or did. He was excessive in nothing; firm in everything; pre-eminently upright and benevolent ; always taking the direction of sound common sense ; superiour to the love of innovation, and to the rejection of it, when plainly recommend ed by truth and utility. As he was wise ; so there is reason to be lieve, that he turned no small number of his people to righteous ness : four considerable revivals of Religion have taken place in Somers during his Ministry. The confidence of his people, and their affection to him, regularly increased until his death. The disease, of which he died, was a pulmonary consumption. He languished long, and under many distresses of body: but his peace of mind brightened to the end. The last words, which he Vol. II. 36 278 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. uttered, and which he uttered in a whisper, after he had become unable to speak with a louder voice, were "Glory to God in the highest ; and on earth peace : good-will towards men." Who would not rather have been Doctor Backus than Hume, or Vol taire ; than Frederic II, or Napoleon ? The reasons of his refusal to accept the Professorship of divin ity in Yale College, he did not think proper to communicate. The principal one is not improbably found in the following anec dote. A gentleman, who was a Representative from Somers in the Legislature, sitting at New-Haven while Doctor Backus was de liberating on this subject, was urged by one of his friends to use his influence in persuading the people of Somers to unite with their Minister in calling an Ecclesiastical Council, which should decide on the propriety, or impropriety, of his acceptance. He replied, " You solicit me in vain. If Doctor Backus resolves to leave us, we cannot help it. But we will never consent to call a Council for the purpose of determining on our own destruction. If he leaves us, we are undone, and no people can be reasonably expected, or desired, voluntarily to take measures to accomplish their own ruin." Doctor Backus had but one child ; a son ; who promised to be a blessing both to his parents and to mankind. He died while he was a member of Yale College, March 16th, 1794, in the 17th year of his age. This affliction both his parents sustained with a most edifying mixture of tenderness, fortitude, and resignation. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XXVIII. Ellington — East- Windsor — Fragment of Indian History — East-Hartford. Dear Sir, Ellington, a corner of which we crossed before we entered East- Windsor, is, like Somers, situated partly on the plain, and partly on the hills. A few years since, no township in the Coun ty of Hartford, in which it was then included, was in lower esti mation. Its soil was considered as lean ; its agriculture was wretched ; and the circumstances of its inhabitants were general ly very humble. A respectable farmer from the Eastern part of the State came into it, and purchased a farm of considerable ex tent. On this tract the former proprietor, although neither idle, vicious, nor in debt, had been barely able to live. The present owner, by a skilful and vigorous cultivation of the same land, has become rich. His neighboyrs have extensively followed this en couraging and beneficial example ; and are becoming wealthy al so. A single man has thus changed the circumstances of a com munity; and enabled them, instead of obtaining a bare sustenance, to furnish a rich supply of valuable productions for the market. The buildings have been improved with the agriculture : and the inhabitants have risen not a little in their general character. A few years since the people of Ellington built a new church. The Rev. Mr. B. their minister, was standing on the top of the tower, while it was a mere frame, and fell by accident to the ground. The distance was about seventy feet : yet he was taken up alive ; and, although lame by the fracture of one of his limbs, pos sesses sufficient health to perform the customary duties of his office. Ellington, in 1790, contained 1,056 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,209; and, in 1810, 1,344. East- Windsor isa township, bordering on the Connecticut ; hav ing Enfield on the North, and East-Hartford on the South. It is composed of the great plain, already mentioned, and a collection of rich intervals, bordering on the river, and Scantic, one of its trib- 280 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. utary streams. The plain was formerly supposed to be of little value, except for its wood. Within a few years past it has been extensively dressed with gypsum ; and yields large crops of wheat, grass, and other products of the climate. The inhabitants of the Northern parish, lying along the Scantic, and taking its name from that stream, have, by the cultivation of these lands, greatly increased their property. The settlements in this township are distributed into three di visions : the Town, or Street, which is a continued village, built on the plain, near the intervals of the Connecticut, from the Northern to the Southern boundary of the township : Warehouse Point, a village containing forty or fifty houses, built on the mar gin of the river at the Northern boundary, where the sloop navi gation is terminated by Enfield falls : and a collection of farms, lying along the Scantic, and on the plain. The houses in the Street, which is the original settlement, are in many instances old, and indifferently repaired, and in many others, good. One or two are elegant, and even splendid. Warehouse Point is a cluster of traders, and mechanics, collected together within a few years. Th# houses on the plain are good farmers' dwellings. Iii this township there is a valuable quarry of free-stone, exten sively used in building throughout this region. The texture is fine^; and the colour beautiful. The people of East- Windsor have ever been distinguished for a steady, industrious character, and orderly habits ; and are un questionably a valuable collection of citizens. A Mr. Bartlett, a respectable farmer in the parish of Scantic, has obtained a patent for a new species of aqueduct,* invented by him, and carried into the most successful execution on his own farm. It consists of short tubes, formed of strong clay, intensely baked, and thoroughly glazed. These are nicely inserted into one another successively, until the proposed length is completed. To unite them perfectly, he has devised a cheap cement, which renders them tight, and promises to resist, effectually, the influ ence of time. When formed of the clay, which is employed to * At least unknown in this country. LETTER XXVM. 281 make what is generally called stone-ware, they appear to be lite rally incapable of decay ; and conduct water without the least contamination. They can, also, be afforded on moderate terms. Thus they unite all the advantages of wooden, leaden, and iron, conduits ; and are free from all their disadvantages. This inven tion may be pronounced an interesting improvement in human affairs ; and will probably become a substitute for every other mode of conveying water beneath the surface. The aborigines of East- Windsor were called Podunk Indians, from a mill-stream of that name irfthis township. It is known, that they were once invaded by the Mohawks ; but met them in such numbers, as to disappoint their enterprise, and induce them to retire without having accomplished any thing of importance. Still, they appear to have lived in continual fear of this people ; as will be sufficiently evident from the following fragment of his tory. In the year 1656, a Podunk Indian, named Weaseapano, mur dered a Sachem, who lived near Mattabeseck ; now Middletown. Seaquassin, the existing Sachem of the tribe, complained of the outrage to the magistracy of Connecticut ; and said, that the Po dunk Indians entertained the murderer, and protected him from the merited punishment. Seaquassin at the same time engaged Uncas in his cause ; who also complained, that Tontonimo en ticed away many of his men ; and protected an Indian, who had murdered a Moheagan. Upon these complaints, the magistrates summoned the parties before them. Seaquassin and Uncas, after observing that the murderer was a mean fellow, and that the man murdered was a great Sachem, insisted, that ten men, friends of Weaseapano, should be delivered up, to-be put to death, as a sat isfaction for the crime. Tontonimo insisted, that the satisfaction demanded was excessive ; particularly, as the murdered Sachem had killed Weaseapano's uncle. The Governour endeavoured to convince the complainants, that the demand was excessive ; observing, that the English in cases of murder, punished only the principal, and such as were accessary to the crime. 282 JOURNEY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Tontonimo then proposed to make satisfaction by the payment of wampum ; but it was refused. They fell, however, in their demands to six men, instead of ten. This proposition was reject ed by Tontonimo. The magistrates then urged him to deliver up the murderer. This, he promised to do. But, while the sub ject was in agitation, he privately withdrew from the Court, with the rest of the Podunk Sachems ; and retired to the fortress, be longing to his nation. Both the magistrates, and the complain ants, were offended at this behaviour of Tontonimo. However, the magistrates appointed a Committee, to persuade the Indians to continue at peace with each other. At their solicitation, Un cas at length consented to accept the murderer ; and promised to be satisfied, if he should be delivered up ; but the Podunk In dians told the English, that they could not comply with this con dition ; because the friends of Weaseapano were numerous, and powerful, and would not agree to the proposal. The Governour then addressed them in form ; urging them to continue in peace, and endeavouring to persuade the complainants to accept of wam pum. This they again refused ; and withdrew ; after it had been agreed on all hands, that the English should not take any part in the controversy ; and after the Indians had promised, that they would not injure either the persons, or possessions, of the English on either side of the river. Soon after, Uncas assembled an army for the purpose of aveng ing his wrongs. But, being met near Hoccanum river, by an equal number of the Podunks, and considering the issue of a bat tle as doubtful, he prudently retired after having sent a message to Tontonimo, in which he declared, that, if the Podunk Sachem persisted in withholding the murderer from justice, he would send to the Mohawks, to come and destroy both him and his peo ple. Not long after, the crafty Moheagan accomplished his purpose in the following manner. He sent a trusty warriour, furnished with some Mohawk weapons, to Podunk ; directing him to set fire in the night to a house, near the fort, and then to leave the weapons on the ground in the vicinity, and immediately return. LETTER XXVI1T. 283 The warriour executed his commission. When the Podunks came in the morning to examine the ruins, they found the weap ons ; and, knowing them to belong to the Mohawks, were so alarm ed with the apprehension, that Uncas was about to execute his threat, that they delivered up the murderer, and sued for peace. East- Windsor contains two parishes ; the inhabitants of which including those of Ellington, amounted, in 1774, to 2,999 ; blacks 38. In 1 799, those of East- Windsor, only, amounted to 2,600 ; in 1800, to 2,766 ; and, in 1810, to 3,081. East-Hartford resembles East- Windsor in location, soil, agri culture, improvements, and buildings. Its intervals on Connect icut river are larger. The town consists principally of a street, running from the Southern to the Northern boundary; a continu ed village throughout the whole distance. Indeed, the whole road, from the Southern limit of Glastenbury to the Northern lim it of Long-Meadow, a distance of about thirty miles, may be re garded as one village : the distance between the houses being no where considerable. An excellent mill-stream, called Hoccanum River, crosses this township obliquely from the Lyme range ; and furnishes a great number of convenient mill-seats. On this stream there is an un usual number of works, erected for various manufacturing purpo ses. Powder, paper, glass, &c. are among the manufactures, car ried on here with spirit, and success. I am informed, that these and various other manufactures, attempted here, have yielded a handsome profit to those who are engaged in them. Both this and the preceding town are among the oldest in Con necticut ; and the inhabitants of both have ever sustained a res pectable character. East-Hartford was formerly a part of Hartford. In 1790, it contained 3,016 inhabitants; in 1800, 3,057; and in 1810, 3,240. The following day we arrived at New-Haven. I am, Sir, yours, &c. JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. LETTER I. New Road from New-Haven to Hartford — Whitney's Cotton Gin, and Manufactory of fire arms — Guilford— Brattleborough — West River. Dear Sir, Tuesday, September 20th, 1803, 1 set out with Messrs. H , , a S , and D , A. B. of Yale College, and Mr. F- member of the Senior Class, on a journey up Connecticut River to the Line, which in the 45th degree of North Latitude divides New-England from Lower Canada. The first day we proceeded to Hartford : thirty-four miles. In my account of the journey, which I took to the White Moun tains in the year 1797, 1 mentioned that a better road was project ed, and had been made, than that, in which Mr. L and my self travelled from New-Haven to Hartford. By the direction of the Legislature a straight line was run between these towns ; and the following year, Commissioners were appointed to lay out the road, with a continual reference to this line. The design was fol lowed too scrupulously, perhaps, for the convenience of travel lers. In one place, only, does it diverge to the distance of one hundred and nine rods. Had a less rigid attention been given to the scheme of making a straight road, several disagreeable hills might have been avoided, much of the expense prevented, and the distance very little increased. As it is, it is one of the best roads in the State. It also presents a greater variety, and a more uniform succession, of fine views than most others of the same extent in this country. It shortens the distance between New- Haven and Hartford about five miles. The first fourteen milei Vol. II. 37 286 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. it runs on the West side of Wallingford river ; thence through Meriden, and along the Western margin of the Middletown range to Worthington ; and thence through the parishes of New-Britain and Newington, and a corner of Wethersfield, to Hartford. For this improvement the public are principally indebted to the Hon. James Hillhouse. This is the road, which we now took. The first object in our journey, deserving the attention of a traveller, is a manufactory of fire-arms, erected about two miles from New-Haven, by Eli Whitney, Esq. This gentleman was born at Westborough in Massachusetts, and was educated at Yale College. Soon after he had received the degree of A. B. in that Seminary, he went to Georgia with views and intentions wholly diverse from those which afterwards engaged his attention. He had been but a short time in Georgia, before he had an op portunity of conversing with several respectable planters of that State, and of frequently hearing their conversations with each other. In these casual meetings, inquiries, relating to the most productive kinds of crops, were topics, upon which the planters dwelt with peculiar interest. Here he learned, that no crop then produced in Georgia, yielded much profit ; that several attempts had been made to raise a species of Cotton, known by the name of Green Seed Cotton ; but which had never been cultivated, for the purposes of commerce in any country. The planters inform ed him, that the shrub, which yielded this cotton, grew well in Georgia, and was abundantly productive ; but that its fibres ad hered so closely to the seed, as to be detached with great diffi culty ; that no convenient and efficacious method of separating them had hitherto been discovered and that, if this difficulty could be surmounted, this cotton would be a more profitable crop than any, which had hitherto been introduced into the Southern sec tion of the United States. On these and other occasions the wish was often and ardently expressed, that a machine might be invent ed for this purpose ; and the declaration made, that such an in vention would ensure an independent fortune to its author. LETTER I. 287 A mind always awake and attentive to every thing passing be fore it, could not easily suffer an object, on which so much stress was -laid, to escape without examination. Mr. Whitney immedi ately set himself to investigate the structure of this product, and to devise means for rendering it valuable to mankind. After pur suing his inquiries during a few months, he contrived and execu ted, under the patronage of Phineas Miller, Esq. a respectable planter in Georgia, a machine, entirely new, both in its form and principle ; which effectually answered the purpose; and the utili ty of which has greatly exceeded every anticipation. For this machine he obtained a patent : but, like many other benefactors of the public, had the mortification to see himself plundered of the benefits of his invention. The law, originally made to protect this species of property, was imperfect : and al most all the individuals, composing the courts, and juries, of Geor gia, were personally interested. The machine was converted into a political engine : and demagogues rose into popularity by unfounded and vociferous, declamation against this species of right, and the law which was made for its protection. , To give a detailed account of the expedients, to which recourse was had, in order to defeat the claims of Mr. Whitney, would carry me beyond my limits. Suffice it to observe, that thirteen years of his patent term had expired, during which more than sixty suits were instituted in that State, before any decision on the merits of his claim was obtained; and that, although every such decision has been in his favour, the expences of prosecution have far ex ceeded what he has received from the citizens of Georgia. The Legislature of South-Carolina voted him $50,000 as a pur chase of the patent right for that State. The succeeding Legis lature rescinded the vote ; and ordered a suit to be instituted against him for the recovery of $20,000, of the purchase-money, which had been paid. To the honour of many citizens of that State it ought to be observed, that this act was regarded by them with the detestation, which it merited ; and that to their zealous and honourable exertions it was owing, that Mr. Whitney, after much delay, and expense, was enabled to obtain a re-establish ment of the contract. 288 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. The Legislature of North-Carolina laid and collected a tax on such of his Cotton Machines as were then in use in that State and after deducting the expense of collection, paid over the avails of the tax to Mr. Whitney. Though the cultivation of cotton, in the State of North-Carolina, was then quite limited and the amount which he received was small, yet the remuneration from that State, was considered by him, as more liberal, in proportion to the use of his machines there, than the amount he received from South-Carolina. The only method of separating the fibres of this cotton from the seed, so as to leave it fit for spinning, which was known, anterior to this discovery, was to pick out the seeds, one by one, with the fingers; and it was thought a proof of great dexterity, skill and in dustry for one person, to clean one pound in a day. With the aid of this machine, a single person will, in one day, clean with ease a thousand pounds. As a labour-saving machine, therefore, it has, perhaps, never been rivalled. Before the invention of this machine, it will be remembered, that this species of cotton was not known in commerce : the expence of cleaning it being such, as absolutely to forbid its cultivation for market. If we add to these considerations the immense in crease of wealth, derived from it to the Southern States, the in comprehensible increase of cheap, comfortable, and even hand some clothing, especially for the poor and middle classes of man kind; the value of this invention can hardly be exaggerated, or its benefits too highly appreciated.* *From the returns made to the Treasury Department, it appears that in the year ending the 30th September 1807, this species of cotton, since denominated " Short Staple," " Upland," and " Bowed Cotton," was exported from the United States, to the amount of more than 55,000,000 of pounds. It is estimated that the quanti ty manufactured in the United States during the same period, must have been at least 5,000,000 more : making an aggregate of 60,000,000 of pounds. It was then valued at twenty cents per pound ; and was therefore worth twelve millions of dollars.! t It can be shewn from authentic documents that more than one hundred millions of pounds of this kind of cotton are now annually produced in the United States ; all of which would be of no value without Mr. Whitney's invention.-^-Pufi, LETTER I. 289 After Mr. Whitney had pursued the business of making ma chines of this description for several years, but antecedently to many of the facts which have been just related, he entered into a contract with the National Government to manufacture for their use 10,000 muskets. For the purpose of executing this contract he erected the man ufactory, which I have mentioned. It is situated at the head of tide-water, upon a stream called Mill-river ; which furnishes at all times an ample supply of water, with a fall at this place, suffi cient to give motion to the necessary machinery. The river is navigable to this spot for scows, carrying from twenty to thirty tons. No position for a manufactory could be better. From the bleak winds of winter it is completely sheltered by the surround ing hills : to the delightful breezes of summer it is perfectly open ed by the valley, through which the river flows. No place, per haps, is more healthy : few are more romantic. In this manufactory muskets are made in a manner, which I be lieve to be singular. In forming the various parts of this instru ment, machinery, moved by water, and remarkably adapted in every instance to the purpose in view, is employed for hammer ing, cutting, turning, perforating, grinding, polishing, &c. &e. The proportion, and relative position, of the several parts of the locks are so exactly alike ; and the screws, springs, and other limbs, are made so similar ; that they may be transferred from one lock and adjusted to another without any material alteration. This desirable object, Mr. Whitney has accomplished by an apparatus, which is simple, peculiar, and eminently ingenious. By an ap plication of the same principles a much greater uniformity has also been given to every part of the muskets, made in this manu factory, than can be found in those, which are fabricated at any other. The advantages, which in actual service result from this uniformity, are too obvious to need an explanation. This establishment was undertaken by Mr. Whitney without the least experience in manufacturing fire-arms. All his work men, also, who were employed in carrying it into operation, were absolutely unskilled in the business : not one of them having ev- ggo JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. er wrought in any branch of it, antecedently to their having been instructed by him. In these circumstances Mr. Whitney was constrained to adopt methods of his own, and, as skilful artists could not be obtained, to devise a system in which the more exact operations of his ma chinery might supply the want of experience in the workmen. Hence modes of working iron, and other metals, and materials, have been invented by him, which are new and peculiar ; and which experience has shewn to be exceedingly useful.* After leaving this manufactory, and advancing about three miles, we were presented with a delightful prospect over the valley of the Quinipiac. This river runs through a large expan sion of meadows with a succession of meanders, peculiarly ele gant ; and is bordered throughout by a lively verdure* Beyond it, on the East, and North, rise a succession of hills, ornamented with forests, fields, and farm-houses, bounded at the distance of near twenty miles by the Middletown mountains. Mount Lamen tation rises nobly at about the same distance with a fine summit, directly in the road. The village of North-Haven, with its white church in the centre, adds at the distance of three miles a hand some variety to the landscape, otherwise too solitary. At the distance of ten miles the Quinipiac winds in a sprightly manner at the road side ; and with its cheerful intervals forms a very pleasant contrast to the rude hills, bordering the road on the West. Here, also, in several places the town of Wallingford, seen with the utmost advantage on the summit of a beautiful ridge, furnishes a pleasant addition to the prospect. From the hills in Meriden a fine retrospective view is taken of the valley of Quinipiac, terminated by the mountains of New- Haven. Here also, as I have elsewhere observed, is a magnifi- . cent prospect of the blue mountains in Southington on the left, and of the Middletown range on the right. At Berlin the trav eller is presented with many views of the fine scenery formerly * Mr. Whitney's system and improvements in manufacturing fire arms have since been introduced into the National Armories at Springfield and at Harpers Ferry. — Pub. LETTER I. 291 described in the account of that township. After crossing the little ridge called Newington mountain, the eye is soon feasted with a rich prospect of the Connecticut valley, with all its inter esting appendages. New-Britain, the Northern parish of Berlin, and Newington, are beautiful collections of farms. On Wednesday the 21st, we proceeded to Northampton ; and on Thursday, to Hatfield. Friday we reached Brattleborough ; having passed through Whately, Deerfield, Greenfield, Bernards- ton, and Guilford : the whole distance from Northampton being forty-one miles. Guilford is the first township in Vermont, on this road, com mencing at its Southern boundary. At the South East corner of the State is the small township of Vernon ; originally the Western part of Hinsdale, and lying between Guilford and Con necticut River. Vernon was the first spot in this State, settled by English inhabitants ; who were drawn hither by some valua ble intervals. Here formerly stood Fort Dummer, built for the purpose of checking savage invasion, and once of considerable importance to the Colonists in its neighbourhood. It was erect ed in the year 1743, under the direction of Colonel Dwight of Northampton, by order of the Legislature of Massachusetts Bay, within whose Charter it was supposed to be included. The remains of this fort I formerly saw ; they probably exist at the present time. This small township is a pleasant spot, and con tained in the year 1790, 482 inhabitants ; in 1800, 480 ; and in 1810, 521. Guilford is generally considered as a good township of grazing land ; lying principally on hills considerably elevated ; and, is universally inhabited. Our road passed through its Eastern skirts. After it left the old settlements in Bernardston, it enter ed a narrow valley in the Northern limits of this township, lying between two mountains ; that on the East a continuation of the Deerfield ridge. This valley is a romantic spot, several miles in length, and for a considerable distance one third of a mile in breadth. Steep, shaggy eminences ascend upon both sides. 292 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. The bottom is a smooth surface, watered throughout by a spright ly stream ; the borders of which are formed by a chain of inter vals, covered at this time with the most brilliant verdure. As we passed through it, I could not avoid feeling some regret, that the inhabitants, otherwise pleasantly situated, should never be able to see either the morning or the evening sun, when within less than twenty degrees of the horizon. They were few in number ; and lived in scattered settlements, recently made, and in houses of little value. In the year 1812, having occasion to take the same road again in journeying from Windsor in Vermont to New- Haven, I found this valley converted into a beautiful, well culti vated ground, and ornamented with several good houses. From Greenfield to the Northern end of this valley the road is better than any other within my knowledge. Hence to Brattleborough, through the Eastern skirt of Guilford, it crosses a succession of rough and disagreeable grounds, without any thing in the sur rounding country to refresh the eye. In the year 1 790 Guilford contained 2,432 inhabitants : a great er number than there were at that time in any other township, in the State ; in 1800, 2,666 ; and, in 1810, 1,872. Brattleborough, the next township, was settled not long after Vernon ; and, like it, borders on the river. It has a softer, and handsomer aspect than Guilford ; yet it is uneven, and some of the hills are high, and steep. A little collection of houses, often styled the Village, and sometimes the City, built at the Southern limit of a plain immediately below the mouth of West river, is one of the prettiest objects of the kind, and size, within my re collection. If we did not mistake in counting them, they were now but ten in number ; but with their appendages were remark ably neat. West river, a considerable tributary stream of the Connecticut, discharges its waters over against the mountain of this name, here tofore mentioned. It rises in the township of Bromley, on the Green Mountain range; and runs through Londonderry, Jamai ca, Townsend, New-fane, Dummerston, and Brattleborough : al most forty miles. LETTER I. 293 Brattleborough, on the road, has a warm, rather than a rich, soil. The inhabitants are all included within a single congrega tion ;* and amounted, in 1790, to 1,589; in 1800, to 1,867; and, in 1810, to 1,891. A good bridge crosses the Connecticut agajmst the city. There are several mills, and other water-works, in this spot, together with a number of mechanics' shops, and stores, which give it a sprightly aspect. I am, Sir, yours, &c. * 1810. Vol. II. 38 LETTER II. Dummerston— Putney — Westminster Rockingham Bethlehem — Wentworth Mountains— Hardships endured by the first settlers — Notch of the White Moun tains — Jefferson — Fine view of two Cascades. Dear Sir, On Saturday, September 24th, we set out for Charlestown, through Dummerston, Putney, Westminster, and Rockingham : thirty-two miles. On West river bridge, we saw a noble speci men of the Grand Obscura. Immediately beyond the Connecti cut, which lay almost beneath us, rose West river mountain. A mist, ascending from the Connecticut, partially, and in the happi est manner possible, concealed the mountain ; doubled its eleva tion; magnified every rock, and tree, which its bosom displayed; converted the whole into one vast precipice ; and bedimming with an universal confusion all these objects, led the imagination to in vest them with a grandeur, still more awful than that, which was presented to the eye. Dummerston, formerly known by the name of Fulham, is at least so far as we saw it, a rough, unpromising township, lying opposite to Chesterfield. A quarry of slate, one of the only two, I be lieve, wrought at the time in New-England, lies in the Southern part of this township, and yields slate of a very good quality. That which is valuable, however, is found only in veins. The working of one of these lately yielded, with the labour of a single man in one season, six hundred dollars. A square, i. e. what will cover the same space as one thousand eighteen inch shingles, is sold on the spot, as a workman informed us, for four dollars. The shingles, which would cover this square, are sold at the same place for two dollars, and two and a half. . In the year 1790, Dummerston contained 1,501 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,703; and, in 1810. 1,704. Putney lies, like Dummerston, on elevated ground ; but exhib its a pleasanter surface along the road. On a stream, which turns LETTER II. 295 several mills in the neighbourhood of some well-appearing houses, a beautiful winding valley opens towards the West. The acclivi ties on both sides of the valley are very handsome ; and present a succession of rich farms under good cultivation. Several good houses, and a decent church add to the cheerfulness of the pros pect. Putney, in 1790, contained 1,848 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,594 ; and, in 1810, 1,607. Westminster, immediately North of Putney, consists, so far as we saw it, of a succession of undulating ground, less fertile than Putney, and less pleasing to the eye. This is a village, general ly well-appearing, built on a single street, parallel to the river. The Southern part of this street is on a plain ; the Northern, on one of the intervals, mentioned in the account of Walpole. From the plain are seen with advantage many of the fine objects, men tioned in that account. Westminster includes two parishes; and contained in 1790, 1,601 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,942; and in 1810, 1,925. Immediately above Westminster lies Rockingham. Of this township we saw very little : the hills approaching so near to the riv er, as to shut out from our view almost every thing, except their own sudden declivities. Around one of these, which is very steep, the road is so narrow, as to fill travellers with disagreeable apprehensions. It ought to be observed generally, that the town ships, through which we passed, are in many instances very im perfectly seen from this road ; and are often rich and flourishing in the interior, when the skirt, on which our journey lay, pre sents nothing to gratify the eye. Rockingham is such a town ship. Solitary as its appearance is along the river, the settle ments made in it are considerable : for, in 1790, it contained 1,275 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,684; and, in 1810, 1,954. Rockingham has no minister settled in it, except one, of the Baptist persuasion. We continued at Charlestown until Monday, the 26th, and then rode to Windsor. The next day we proceeded to Hanover, and thence to Lyme ; and thence on the 28th, through Orford, Pier- 296 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. mont, Haverhill, and Bath, to Concord : the distance from Charlestown eighty-two miles. On Thursday, the 29th, we directed our course from Concord up the Lower Amonoosuck to Rosebrook's : twenty-nine miles. Seven miles from our inn, and three above the spot where the Lancaster road ascends the mountains of Littleton, we crossed the river by a very difficult ford, just below a place called the Upper Mills. Here we left the valley ; and ascended the high hills of Bethlehem. The road through this township lies partly in a forest, and partly amid the settlements. These are recent, few, poor, and planted on a soil, singularly rough and rocky. There is nothing in Bethlehem which merits notice, except the patience, enterprise, and hardihood, of the settlers, which have induced them to venture, and stay, upon so forbidding a spot ; a magnificent prospect of the White Mountains ; and a splendid collection of other mountains in their neighbourhood, particular ly on the South- West. These are entirely separated from the White Mountains by a deep and narrow valley. Among them, one, inferiour only to the White Mountains, and Moosehillock, exhibits in its great elevation, elegance of form, and amplitude : a very rare combination of beauty, and grandeur. It is composed of three lofty conical summits, accompanied by four vast, bold, circular sweeps, formed with a grace, to which in objects of this nature I had hitherto been a stranger ; and which removed all doubts, in my mind, concerning the practicability of uniting the most exquisite beauty with the most splendid sublimity. To this mountain, hitherto without a name, I have taken the liberty to give the appellation of Mount Wentworth; from the respect, which I have ever borne to John Wentworth, Esq. formerly Gov ernour of New-Hampshire. As seen from the hills of Bethle hem, it appears on the right of the White Mountains ; as does Pondicherry on the left. It is hardly necessary to observe, that the beauty of every fine landscape arises in a great measure from a comparison of the sev eral objects, which compose it ; and is made up, extensively, of the relations, which they bear to each other. This is emphatical- LETTER II. 297 ly true of a cluster of mountains. A nobler groupe cannot be imagined than that, which is seen from Bethlehem ; nor one, to which this remark can be applied with more force. Their form, their extent, their height, their position, and all the circumstances of their appearance, are so varied through the several gradations of beauty, boldness, and grandeur ; and so happily related to each other; that the eye finds, here, every thing, which can gratify its wishes in rude, wild, and magnificent scenery. The lands in Bethlehem are beach and maple lands ; and, where they are not too much encumbered by stones, are tolera bly fertile. The houses are chiefly log-huts : the settlements be ing very recent ; so recent indeed, as not to be mentioned in the census of 1790. In 1800, there were in this township 171 inhab itants ; and, in 1810, 422. After leaving the hills of Bethlehem, the road turned again to the Amonoosuck ; along the banks of which it continued until we arrived within a mile and a half of the Notch of the White Moun tains : a distance of about sixteen miles. It is chiefly free from stones ; but is encumbered with all the other inconveniences of a new road. The soil is fat; and the mire, therefore, deep. The bridges, and causeys, of round poles, are far more numerous, and extended, than in any other part of the country, which I have visited : some of them being from one to two furlongs in length. They are also more neglected, and consequently more decayed, broken, and dangerous. In this region there are but three or four houses. A reflecting traveller, passing over these roads, is naturally in duced to recollect the situation of the first Colonists in New-Eng land ; and to realize some of the hardships, which those intrepid people endured in settling this country. Among the difficulties, which they had to encounter, bad roads were no contemptible one. Almost all the roads in which they travelled, passed through deep forests, and over rough hills and mountains, often over troublesome and dangerous streams, and not unfrequently through swamps, miry, and hazardous ; where wolves, bears, and cata mounts, haunted and alarmed their passage. The forests they 298 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. could not cut down: the rocks they could not remove: the swamps they could not causey ; and over the streams they could not erect bridges. Men, women, and children, ventured daily through this combination of evils ; penetrated the recesses of the wilderness; climbed the hills; wound their way among the rocks; struggled through the mire ; and swam on horseback through deep and rapid rivers, by which they were sometimes carried away. To all these evils was added one, more distressing than all. In the silence, and solitude of the forest, the Indian often lurked in ambush near their path ; and from behind a neighbouring tree took the fatal aim; while his victim, perhaps, was perfectly un conscious of danger. On Friday the 30th we rode to the Notch ; and here I renew ed a prospect of all the delightful scenes, which I have mentioned in a former account. The first object, which after we had pass ed the solemn scenes at the entrance of the Notch, arrested our attention, was the fine brook, which I have described in my for mer journey to this place, as flowing so beautifully down a preci pice of eight hundred feet, and which I shall take the liberty to denominate the Silver Cascade. The sun was at this time in the same advantageous position, as when we were here in the year 1797 : a fact, which I found, was indispensable to the visibility of this delightful object. It was now in view from various positions, which we successively occupied, till two or three o'clock in the afternoon ; when, the sun having retired behind the mountains, it vanished in the shade. In my first journey I was unable to exam ine this fine object in a near view, for want of time : but now, having sufficient leisure, we all determined to make our way, if possible, to the foot of the precipice, over which it descended. Upon trial, however, we found the intervening forest almost lit erally impassable from the fallen trees, the thick and tangled bushes, the numerous rocks, and the deep sloughs, with which it was every where replenished. After a tedious excursion, in which we made a very slow and embarrassed progress, we reluc tantly gave up the design. LETTER. II. 299 We were, however, repaid for our disappointment by our visit to the Flume. Here I ascended two of the precipices, over which its descent was visible from the margin of the bason at the bot tom ; my companions, several of those above, to the height of twelve or fifteen hundred feet. The splendour of the cascade was greatly enhanced by every ascent ; and the whole prospect, changing from beauty to sublimity, left the mind in a mixture of astonishment and rapture. From this spot we proceeded onward towards the exit of this passage. As we were slowly descending the declivity, I was for cibly struck with the thought of being on this singular ground ear ly in the spring ; when the snows were rapidly dissolving, and all the casual torrents were pouring their waters down these vast precipices into the valley. The magnificence of such a multi tude pf streams, descending almost perpendicularly from these lofty heights, and presenting to the eye a collection of cataracts, two and three thousand feet in length ; the mingled roar of the torrents ; and the hollow-sounding echo, filling the vast chasm ; appeared to my fancy superiour to any thing, which I had seen or read, of the wild and awful majesty of nature, except the ravages of a volcano. When we reached Lancaster, I had an opportunity of partially realizing this scene, in an animated account, given by Mr. and Mrs. Willard, who had been on this spot at the season of the year, which I had proposed ; and who to intelligence and good-sense joined a strong attachment to the fine scenes of nature. They had passed through this valley, when the snows were dissolving under a copious rain, and every stream was swollen to its fullest size. They both agreed, that the scene excelled every concep tion, which they had hitherto formed of awfulness and grandeur. When we had reached Davis' farm, we were presented with an object, entirely new, and not a little interesting. A fire, which had not long before been kindled in its skirts, had spread over an extensive region of mountains on the North-East; destroyed in its progress all the vegetation ; and consumed most of the soil, consisting chiefly of vegetable mould. The whole 300 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. tract, from the base to the summit, was alternately white, and dappled : while the melancholy remains of half burnt trees, which hung here and there on the sides of the immense steeps, finished the picture of barrenness and death. We had now reached the utmost limit of our intended excur sion to these mountains ; and had examined attentively all the in teresting objects within our reach. Bidding adieu, therefore, to this singular combination of wild and awful magnificence, we set out on our return to Rosebrook's. Here I observed, that the vast eminence, which I formerly mentioned as rising on the South western side of the Notch, was formed extensively of grey gran ite, striped with red ; and that its awful cliffs descended almost perpendicularly from the top of the mountain to the bottom. We left the Notch about two o'clock ; and, having taken din ner at Rosebrook's, continued our journey to Jefferson ; where we arrived at eight. The road we found little improved : the inhabitants being still few and poor. The first great evil, atten dant upon the formation of these roads is, that the trees are not originally cut down to a sufficient extent upon both sides. When ever they are left near the path, they cover it with a continual shade ; and prevent the exhalation of the moisture. In this way the mire is often continued through the summer. The roots al so, being interwoven with each other, render it impossible to ob tain earth, sufficient for the purpose of covering the stones, or to make drains for drying the sloughs. The earth which can be ob tained in most places, is nothing but vegetable mould ; and this is so spungy, imbibes the water so easily, and retains it so long, that, in seasons not absolutely dry, the inconveniences, intended to be removed, are only increased. When the trees are cut down over a breadth of five or six rods, the road, being open to the sun, becomes in a great measure dry. The stumps, and roots, of most kinds, easily decay. Strong ploughs may be used with success ; and solid earth may be procured in sufficient quan tities. This, however, is a task, which demands more, and wealthier, inhabitants, than we found on this part of our jour ney. I ought to observe, that we found a considerable number LETTER II. 301 of the inhabitants strenuously labouring to remove these incum brances. We lodged at Denison's ; and in the morning of October 1st proceeded to Lancaster; a distance often miles; where we con tinued till Monday. Jefferson lies in the bottom of the great basin, which I have heretofore mentioned. The surface is generally level, and smooth ; the soil mgderately fertile ; particularly that of a chain of inter vals, lying along Israel's river. Like other low grounds, it is ex posed to late vernal frosts; and is, therefore, ill fitted for the pro duction of fruit. In Durand, a township at the foot of little Moosehillock, apples already grow in such quantities, that they are sold in Lancaster at a dollar a bushel. Jefferson was originally called Dartmouth ; and was incorpora ted under this name in 1773. In 1775, it contained only four in habitants; in 1790, 111 ; in 1800, 112; and, in 1810, 197. The reason, why the population increases so slowly, is said to be the reluctance of the proprietor to sell the lands. The prospect in this valley is very noble. On a rising ground upon the road, about two miles South-East- ward of Lancaster, we were presented with one of the most inter esting scenes, which ever met the eye. At the distance of ten or twelve miles, on the Southern side of the basin, two mountains, spurs from those of Littleton, intrude finely into the valley. From the apparent summit of the farthest descended a stream, till it was hidden by the summit of the nearest. On this, from the highest elevation also, flowed another, somewhat obliquely to the course of the first, but so nearly coinciding with it, that for some time we thought it a branch of the same : for we did not, at first, take notice of the fact, although sufficiently obvious, that there were two mountains. A moment's attention, however, pre sented the whole scene in its true light. The nearer stream came from a South- Western direction, until it reached the point of vis ion, in which it joined the course of the other. Both struck the eye, when loosely attentive, as a single cascade ; parted from the summit of the nearer mountain, descending a vast length down a Vol. II. 39 302 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. steep precipice, and glittering in the sunbeams like a torrent of liquid silver. The effect was magical : and the objects seemed more like the visions of fairy land, than like the coarse realities of this rude world. Our company consisted of five : and whatev er diversities of taste we might experience, they were all harmo nized, here, in a single gaze of astonishment and delight. Even the White Mountains were forgotten. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER III. Northumberland— Little Moosehillock— Upper Amonoosuc — Stratford — The Peaks — Wales's location — Cockburn— Colebrook — Road to Hallowell — Grand Monad- noc — Canaan — Settlements beyond the Line on the St. Francis — Enterprize of New-England people. Dear Sir, On Monday morning, October 3, 1 803, we left Lancaster ; and pursued our journey to Stratford ; sixteen miles ; where we din ed. In the afternoon we rode to Colebrook : twenty miles. Northumberland, the next town above Lancaster, was incorpo rated in 1779. In 1775, however, it contained 57 inhabitants. The progress of population during the following fifteen years was very slow. In 1 790, the number amounted only to 1 1 7. In 1 800, they were 205. The settlements are principally in the Connect icut valley. In 1810, the number of inhabitants was 281. I have heretofore observed, that the Mountains, above Lancas ter, instead of running parallel with the, river, meet it endwise. In Northumberland we passed the Western termination of the lit tle Moosehillock ; the Southernmost in this class. The highest summit in this range is not less than two thousand feet above the basin below. On its Northern side, we passed the Upper Amo noosuc. This river commences its course at the foot of the White Mountain range ; and, running Northward along its Eastern base a little more than one third of its course, turns directly West to the Connecticut. Its whole length is about fifty miles. It is in feriour in size to the lower Amonoosuc; its current is much more placid; and, flowing through a smooth, level bed, it is navigable for canoes throughout the whole of its Western progress ; at the extremity of which there is a carrying place, of three miles only, to the Ameriscoggin. It is said to be bordered by extensive and valuable intervals. The valley, through which it flows, is of a beautiful form; and, so far as I was able to judge, furnished with a good soil ; but is at present a mere forest. 304 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. Judd's fall interrupts the navigation of the Connecticut is Northumberland. It is formed by a ridge of rocks, perhaps twen ty feet in height ; the seat of some useful mills ; but without either beauty or grandeur. Stratford, the next town, was incorporated in 1773. In 1775, it contained 41 inhabitants ; in 1790, 146 ; in 1800, 281 ; and, in 1810, 339. Like Northumberland, it consists partly of rich and handsome intervals along the Connecticut ; and of an interiour, formed by the valley of the upper Amonoosuc, and of the range, which has heretofore been mentioned under the name of the Peaks. The height, and length, of this range differ scarcely at all from those of the little Moosehillock ; but the appearance of its summits is widely different. I counted on this range five conical eminences ; all of them uncommonly regular. The second is the most exact and beautiful cone, which I ever beheld. It is not improbable, that most, if not all, of them have been derived from volcanic ex plosions, which have long since ceased. This mountain is a no ble object to the eye ; and is seen on the road with the utmost advantage. The houses in Stratford are inferiour to those in Northumber land ; which in several instances are good. The roads also, and several of the farms, exhibit strong indications of a lax and ineffi cient spirit in some of the inhabitants. On the Northern side of a brook, called Bog brook, there is a view of the White Moun tains, which detected a curious optical illusion. Until we arriv ed at this place, we had never coincided in determining which of the summits of these mountains was the highest. We had seen them in a variety of places, and positions : but the difference of opinion continued, until on our return from the Line we came to this place. Here Mount Washington appeared so superiour to the other summits, as to leave us astonished, that any doubt could ever have arisen. The Connecticut valley presents considerably extensive and beautiful scenery in the Southern and middle parts of Stratford. LETTER III. 305 Between Stratford, and Cockburn, there is a location, (i. e. a grant of land, smaller than a township,) called Wales'1 s Gore ; containing between two and three thousand acres. On this spot the settlements were scarcely begun*; and the road was very im perfectly made. Cockburn was incorporated in 1770; three years before Strat ford ; and contained, in 1775, 14 inhabitants; in 1790, 26; ih 1800, 109; and, in 1810, 142. These people give proofs of con siderable enterprise in their buildings, farms, and roads. Our road, particularly, was for so new a settlement well wrought, dry, and hard. The lands, on the East of it, so far as our view ex tended, were composed of rough hills, wildly thrown together. Two lofty mountains, one named Preston Hills, in the Northern border ; and another, to which I could find no name, but which I shall take the liberty to call the Sullivan Mountains, in the South ern, must, I think, be incapable of cultivation. The space be tween them is rough, and forbidding. Still it may be good grazing land. Colebrook was incorporated the same year with Cockburn; and contained only 4 inhabitants in 1775; in 1790, 29 ; in 1800, 160; and, in 1810, 325. In 1 803, there were fifty families in this township ; amounting probably to more than 250 persons. There were also 20 other persons, who had begun to cultivate the same number of farms. The land in Colebrook is universally capable of culture, and is rich. Intervals of the best quality spread in a beautiful manner along the Connecticut, throughout the whole breadth of the town ship ; and the uplands, consisting of easy hills and vallies, are considered as equally fertile, and desirable. The road along the river is very good : as it is, indeed, from the Southern boundary of Cockburn to the place, where we crossed the Connecticut in Stu art ; two miles from the Canada Line. Every thing in this township exhibits the activity and enter prise of its inhabitants : their roads, plantations, barns, and school- houses. Their barns are large, and good ; and their school- houses well built. Their dwelling-houses are principally of logs : 306 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. but they are beginning to form better ; and will soon be lodged very comfortably. Mills they have already. The people of Colebrook are also sober, orderly, harmonious in their intercourse, their politics, and religion ; and already anx ious, and in their own opinion able, to settle a minister, in con junction with the inhabitants either of Stewart or Canaan, the townships opposite to them in Vermont.* The enterprise of these people is conspicuous in their under taking to open a road between Colebrook, and Hallowell, in the District of Maine : their nearest port. This road has been al ready laid out. The distance has been found to be ninety miles. The ground is no where discouraging, and almost every where good. Through a considerable part of the distance settlements are already begun ; and throughout the whole, the soil, and sur face, are well fitted for cultivation. The range of the White Mountains opens, here, a gap, resembling the Notch ; presenting scenery finely romantic ; and allowing a convenient passage for a road. This work has been begun with great spirit ; and is in tended to be speedily finished. As it will ultimately furnish an important accommodation for the inhabitants, planted throughout the whole distance ; it will, of course, be kept in repair ; and will probably answer all the ends, proposed by those who have under taken it. Its value to the people of this region, and to those of Hallowell also, can scarcely be calculated. About two miles below Loomis's, the inn where we lodged, stands a lofty mountain, called the Grand Monadnoc, in Lyming- ton, in Vermont ; ascending immediately from the river, and ris ing above its level about two thousand feet. Its elevation, meas ured from the surface of the ocean, is probably more than three thousand. This mountain makes a very noble appearance : its single summit being a fine, obtuse arch ; and its bosom shaggy, and cut into ridges by deep channels, towards the South-East. In the summer of 1 802, a cloud broke on this mountain. A large rock, near the summit, on, or in the neighbourhood of which the stream fell, was washed clean ; the earth, with which it was cov- * They have since settled a respectahle Clergyman. LETTER III. 307 ered, being all swept away ; and with its white surface discloses the spot to the eye of a traveller. A little beneath this rock, it wore a channel six feet deep ; and in its progress down the moun tain carried away every moveable thing, in its course. The quan tity of water, which fell, was prodigiously greater than the inhab itants had ever known to descend in a spot of the same extent, during the same time : and the effects of its violence were in their view unexampled. Tuesday, October 4th, we left Loomis's, and rode to the Line ; crossing the Connecticut at a ford, two miles below, and passing through a part of the township of Canaan in Vermont ; or rather what was originally a location called Norfolk, lately annexed to that township. The river was here about fifty yards in breadth ; and in this region is usually of a breadth between that and twenty- five yards. In almost all places it was much too deep to be ford ed ; although the season was dry. The part of the road, which lies in Canaan, is chiefly by the side of a mill-stream, called Leet's brook. Monadnoc was the last mountain, which we saw in Ver mont ; and Preston hills, in New-Hampshire. Northward of these mountains, the country consists of hills and vallies ; and the soil is fertile.When we came to the Line, we found the settlements begun, and extended to a considerable distance within sight ; and, by their appearance, of some standing. By Mr. J. Ames, a res pectable surveyor in Stuart, I was informed, that beyond Here ford mountain, which ascends about five miles from the Line, there are no hills, of any considerable height, in Lower Canada, for a great distance. The whole country, he observed, consists of moderate elevations, beautifully sloped, and interjacent val lies, open and handsome. The soil, he further observed, is gen erally excellent ; and the winters are by no means so severe, as to prevent the country from becoming a desirable residence. By authority, which I could not doubt, I was assured, that plan tations are already extended along the river St. Francis, (whose head waters descend from the hills in Vermont, only eight miles Westward of Colebrook,) quite down to the French settlements. 308 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. All, or nearly all, these plantations are formed by people from New-England. An inhabitant of Eaton, (twenty-eight miles North of the Line,) with whom I conversed particularly on this subject, and who appeared to be a decent and intelligent man, confirmed these accounts. He considered the township, in which he lived, as an agreeable residence. The terms, on which the lands were obtained, were, he observed, easy. The tenure, on which they were holden, was that of free socage, unembarrassed with any inconvenient restrictions or services : and the government was mild and equitable. He told me further, that the road to the Three Rivers, except sixteen miles of forested ground, was even then tolerable ; that it was considerably travelled ; and that with out any serious expense, or Jabour, it might be made very good. It is in contemplation to open a road from Stuart to Quebec. The undertaking, it is said, will be attended with no peculiar difficul ty : the ground being every where fitted for such a purpose. The distance to Quebec is estimated at one hundred and fifty, or one hundred and sixty miles ; and that to the St. Lawrence, by the 3t. Francis, at eighty. I have lately seen the opening of this road mentioned with approbation by Sir James Craig, the Gov ernour of Lower Canada, in a speech, or message, to the Legis lature of that province. There is no reasonable doubt, that the design is feasible ; nor that the execution of it will advantageous to both countries. The township of Eaton, in 1 803, contained sixty families. A person who has extensively seen the efforts of the New-Eng- ' land people in colonizing new countries, cannot fail of being for cibly struck by their enterprise, industry, and perseverance. In Maine, in New-Hampshire, in Vermont, in Massachusetts, and in New- York, I have passed the dwellings of several hundred thou sands of these people, erected on grounds, which in 1760 were an absolute wilderness. A large part of these tracts they have already converted into fruitful fields ; covered it with productive farms ; surrounded it with enclosures ; planted on it orchards ; and beautified it with comfortable, and in many places with hand some, houses. Considerable tracts I have traced through their LETTER III. 309 whole progress from a desert to a garden ; and have literally be held the wilderness blossom as the rose. There are minds, to whom little else than romantic adventures, splendid villas and palaces, the pomp of courts, the progress of armies, the glory of victories, and other magnificent displays of wealth and power, can give even a transient pleasure. To me there is something far more delightful in contemplating the diffu sion of enterprise and industry over an immense forest ; where no oppression gives birth to the efforts of man ; no sufferings have preceded the splendour ; and no sacrifice of life, or even of com fort, is necessary to the existence of the triumph. The process is, here, all voluntary and free. In its several stages the forest is converted into a cultivated country ; and lands literally useless, are made to yield sustenance, and convenience, to mankind. Poverty is here commuted for competence, and competence for wealth. Towns and villages, in vast multitudes, rise up in the retreats of bears, and wolves ; and churches assemble for the worship of God the numerous inhabitants, to whom he has given so goodly a heritage. Schools also, and Colleges, enlighten, here, the young mind with the rudiments, and in many instances with the higher attainments, of knowledge. Thus rational and virtu ous man sees his race multiplying beyond all customary cal culation, in the midst of blessings, equally and universally diffu sed, and obtained without fraud, without oppression, and without blood. These thoughts will naturally rise in the mind of a contempla tive traveller, standing on this spot, and foreseeing, what he can scarcely fail to foresee, that the immense forests, North, and East, and West, of his eye, will at no great distance of time be convert ed, as those on the South, have lately been, by these active peo ple into a well cultivated country, filled with the blessings of this life, and with the means, and hopes, of life beyond the grave. I am, dear Sir, yours, &c. Vol. II. 40 LETTER IV. Stuart — Salmon — Vegetation and Products of this region — Account of Maize — Na tive Animals — Return to Lancaster. Dear Sir, Having examined every thing within our reach, in the neigh bourhood of the Canada Line at this place, we returned in the afternoon to Colebrook. On our way we were overtaken by a copious rain, which continued through the remainder of the afternoon. This period I spent very pleasantly in making a great variety of enquiries concerning the surrounding country, and par ticularly concerning the rise and progress of Connecticut river. The persons, with whom I conversed on these subjects, were in telligent, and fair ; and their accounts peculiarly satisfactory. Stuart differs immaterially from Colebrook ; except that the settlements are more recent. In the year 1790, there were no inhabitants in this town ; in the year 1 800, there were 99 ; and in 1810, 186. The same industry, and spirit, are visible here, which we observed in Colebrook ; and the same good character istics generally. The soil in the interiour is said to be rich. The River throughout this township and Colebrook, for about twelve miles in length, winds through a succession of most beautiful in tervals ; which may be said literally to glow with verdure. The valley is here from a mile and a half to two miles wide; and a richer scene can hardly be conceived. Salmon were heretofore caught in Colebrook in great num bers ; but they have been entirely stopped by the several dams, . erected below. It is a remarkable proof of the strength of this fish, that it is able to ascend such falls, as those at South Hadley and Rockingham : yet the evidence of the fact is complete : the salmon being invariably known to return to the ocean in the lat ter part of the warm season. The lands in Stuart, Colebrook, and other parts of the circum jacent country, yield wheat, rye, barley, oats, flax, maize, and LETTER IV. 311 grass, in abundance"; together with the hortulan vegetables, com mon to other parts of New-England. Wheat yields, ordinarily, from twenty to thirty bushels an acre. The spring wheat is es teemed a surer crop, than the Autumnal ; the latter, it is said, being covered with snow before the ground is frozen, becomes too warm, moulds, and decays. The evil would, I think, be prevented by sowing the wheat late. In this case, it would grow so little, as not to cover the ground ; and therefore would not mould. At the same time, be ing here regularly sheltered by snow during the whole season, in which danger is to be apprehended from the frost, it would be safe from that enemy also. The experiment ought certainly to be made ; particularly, as the Autumnal wheat, when it escapes this destruction, is better, and more productive, than that which is sown in the Spring. Maize yields forty bushels an acre. The kind, planted here and throughout all this region, is that, which f in New-England is called Canada corn ; the seed having been originally brought from that country. Its produce is abundant ; and its weight, and qual ity, not materially different from the flint corn of Massachusetts and Connecticut. The season of vegetation, here, is not suffi ciently long to bring the flint corn to perfection. All the English accounts of this useful vegetable, which I have seen, are very defective. You will, therefore, permit me to give you a more complete catalogue of its species, than any other within my knowledge. It will I presume be incomplete ; but it will include a greater number of varieties, than those, which have hitherto been published. Names. Colour. Varieties. Rows of Kernels. Canada corn, yellow, two, ] 8 5 12 Flint, yellow, ) blue, > red, > two, < ) large, ) small, I 8 Nantucket, yellow, one, 12 Chicken, yellow, one, 8 Sweet, white, one, 8 312 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. Names. Colour. Varieties. Rows of Kernels. Long-Island, Guinea, white, white, two, C 8 1 sweet. \ 12 5 insipid. Virginia, white, one, ( from 12 upwards, sha- \ ped like a gourd seed. Carolina, white, one, 8 Missouri, yellow, one, 8 The earliest, and smallest, of these is the Chicken corn ; and the next the eight rowed Canada. The next after these is the Sweet. All these may in a favourable season be planted so early as to furnish seed for a second crop, which will come to perfection the same season, at New-Haven. The Chicken corn rarely ex ceeds the height of five feet ; the Canada seven ; and the Sweet eight. The Nantucket differs little from the Canada, except that it is later. The ears of the Chicken corn are scarcely more than four inches in length ; and its produce is trifling in quantity and value. The Sweet or Shrivelled corn, so called, because, when it is ripe, the kernels are remarkably shrivelled, and the Long- Island Sweet, which is large, and comparatively late, are, when in the milk, the most delicious of all culinary vegetables. The Flint corn grows to the height of ten feet ; and is the heav iest, the most nutritious, and most productive of all the species. The Carolina, and Missouri, grow at New-Haven to the height of fifteen feet: but the season is rarely long enough to bring either of them to perfection. Snow commonly falls at Stuart and Colebrook about the mid dle of November ; and is gone about the middle of April. The Connecticut was crossed on the ice at Cockburn, May 2nd 1798. For three years past, beginning with 1801, there has been very little snow in this region. Ploughing is commonly begun, here, about the 1st of May. Maize is planted near the end of the same month. The following wild fruits grow in this region. Three sorts of currants are found in the forest : the red, the black, and a peculiar kind, called Skunk currants. LETTER IV. 313 Two sorts of gooseberries, also, grow wild here : the prickly and the smooth. The smooth gooseberries are larger than pistol bullets ; but are scarce. The prickly are smaller, and abound. Blackberries grow, but not in abundance. Raspberries may be literally said to fill the country. The on ly species, which I saw, were the common and crimson; and these wherever the forests are cut down, spring up in infinite numbers. We saw raspberries fresh, and good, on the bushes, the third of October. The black mulberry is a native of this country, particularly in Stratford. Two kinds of wild cherries grow here : the red and the black. Cranberries grow in Colebrook on bushes, seven or eight feet high. The fruit differs little from the common kind. The Strawberries are large, and finely flavoured. Of the native animals of this country I have received the fol lowing information, which may be relied on as correct. Beavers are still found on this River, particularly on its upper branches, both in New-Hampshire and Canada. Bears abound. Racoons, and Deer, are scarce. There are no Elks. Moose were diminished in their numbers, until since the year 1 800 ; when the winters having been very mild, and very little snow having fallen, they have escaped the ravages of the hunt ers, and have again become considerably numerous. The Wolverin is found here. This animal is of the size of a small dog ; and is striped perpendicularly, like a racoon, from the back to the belly : it is fierce, and voracious ; and frequently destroys sheep. Foxes, of two kinds, inhabit these forests ; one red ; the other grey, spotted with black. Two grey squirrels, only, have been seen in this neighbour hood. There are none of the black kind : but red, striped, and flying, squirrels abound. Hedgehogs are frequent. The bird, called Crossbill (the Loxia of Linnaeus,) is, so far as I know, found here only, in New-England. Its size is it that of a blue bird : its colour, a mixture of red and grey. The upper 314 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. part of its bill crosses the lower part, so that, when eating, it is obliged to turn its head sidewise toward its food. Wednesday, October 5th, we left Loomis's in the morning ; and rode to Lancaster thirty-six miles. The only object which caught my attention on this part of our journey, and which I have not mentioned, was a collection of cliffs, of blue argillaceous schist; more ragged, wild, and fantastical, than any thing, of which I had ever formed a conception. The strata were scarce ly two inches in thickness ; and wound in every direction, an gle, and curvature, which can be imagined. Had the mass been in a state of semi-liquefaction, and stirred with rods in eve ry possible manner ; and had the substance cooled, and stiffened, immediately after the passing of the rods ; an effect would have been produced, imperfectly resembling the labyrinthine windings of these strata. To increase this confusion, the several masses, or if they may be so called, rocks, of which the whole pile was composed, pointed in all directions ; so that the edges of the stra ta were directed towards every part of the heavens ; and, to complete it, the rocks are thrown together, and heaped upon each other, in such disorder, as if they had been taken up by a torna do, and violently shaken down on this spot. We arrived at Lancaster in the evening without any accident; and the next morning began our journey homeward through Dalton. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER V. Weather in the country about Lancaster — Prospect at Newbury — Vegetation at Lancaster. Dear Sir, In my journey of 1797, 1 remarked, that the weather in the country above Haverhill* differed materially from what is usual in the Southern parts of New-England. In that of 1803, 1 met with many additional proofs of the justice of these remarks. On Tuesday, October 4th of this year, 1 set out with my companions from Colebrook to visit the Canada Line, at the distance of ten miles from Loomis's. The sky was overcast during the night be fore ; and in the morning a cloud, settling on the summit of the Grand Monadnoc, threatened us with rain. About twelve o' clock the rain began ; and continued to fall plentifully through the afternoon and evening. On the morning of Wednesday the wind blew a strong gale from the North- West. The clouds still hung upon Monadnoc, and upon all the other high mountains, which were visible, until about three o'clock P. M. Soon after we began our journey, the rain commenced again ; and continued to descend in showers, successively, and swiftly, passing to the South-East, till the middle of the afternoon. The wind then gradually ceased ; and the air settled into an entire calm. The sky, however, was overspread with broken clouds, until it became dark. Soon after the night began, the clouds suddenly disap peared ; the heavens assumed their brightest and most serene az ure ; and the moon rose in her utmost beauty and splendour. As I walked with the Rev. Mr. W. from the street in Lancaster to his house, the distance of a mile ; I did not observe a single cloud. This serenity continued sometime after eleven o'clock. Soon after twelve, a settled and very copious rain began; and continued till morning. After breakfast we set out for Bath, through Dalton, Lit tleton, and Concord, the wind still North-West. The morning was * I have since found that this difference commences at Haverhill. 316 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. perfectly bright : but soon after we began our journey the clouds came violently from that quarter, and brought a succession of showers till some time after noon. A little before we descended the mountains of Littleton into the valley of the lower Amonoo suc, the rain ceased : yet on the mountains it continued, to be showery most of the day. On Friday we left Bath in the morn ing, under a cloudy sky. For two or three miles a little rain fell, mingled with hailstones, sparsely scattered. Both, however, soon ceased : but the showers, as we learned from some gentle men who followed us, continued with violence on the mountains. During all this period the wind was North-West: in the Southern parts af New-England an almost certain source of fair weather. On Wednesday, snow fell at Colebrook in extremely small quantities. On Thursday it fell more copiously at Littleton ; but not sufficiently to whiten the ground. On Friday morning it completely covered the earth at this place : while at Bath there was not a single flake. After we had left Bath, we rode about four miles, and came into the Connecticut valley. The clouds now rose suddenly into the higher regions of the atmosphere. At ten o'clock, the weather became remarkably fine ; and the sky universally serene, and beautiful. At two, while we were dining at Bradford, the wind veered instantly to the South; the air became uncomfortably cold ; and the sky was overcast with clouds, until nine in the eve ning. The clouds then suddenly retired again; and the heavens resumed their brightness and serenity, until a little before day. Then they were again overcast. At nine o'clock ; the wind North-West ; the clouds vanished again ; the day became very fine ; the weather mild ; and the sky of that peculiarly beautiful blue, which so often adorns the month of October. We arrived at Newbury on Friday about eleven oclock ; and were not a little gratified with the charming weather, rendered doubly agreeable by the remembrance of the preceding, gloomy season. ^As we were passing through the pleasant street of this town, we were amply repaid for our sufferings by the singularity and splendour of the prospect, to the perfection of which this stormy season had in no small degree contributed. The expan- LETTER V. 317 sion, in which Haverhill and Newbury are built, is seen from this place with the highest advantage. As we cast our eyes up and down the river ; itself an object extremely beautiful, and with its romantic meanders extensively in view ; a chain of intervals, sometimes on one, and sometimes on both sides, reaching from North to South not less than ten or twelve miles, spread before us, like a new Eden, covered with the richest verdure, and dis playing a thousand proofs of exuberant fertility. This spot was bounded on both sides by rising grounds ; now sloping; now ab rupt; always interesting; and overspread alternately with forests, farms, and villages. Beyond these a train of hills, throughout the whole extent, adorned with a variety of summits, and terminating at the South- Western limit in the noble bluff, which I have men tioned under the name of Sawyer's mountain, formed an elegant transition from the inferiour to the superiour parts of the land scape. The birds around us sported, and sung, with the highest glee. A vast multitude of neat cattle, horses, and sheep, were cheerfully cropping the verdure of the rich fields beneath us, wandering about them in frolic, or quietly ruminating in the shade. The farmers, were gaily pursuing the various business of the field : and the children, more gaily still, were occupied at their play. Over against us in full view, rose the handsome vil lage of Haverhill. Three or four miles North-Eastward, ascen ded two rough mountains; one an obtuse cone; the other a beau tiful sugarloaf; and with their peculiar forms finely varied the landscape. Behind the village of Haverhill at the cjistance of seven or eight mijes, Moosehillock, a stupendous elevation, al ways reminding me of that description in Milton, " The mountains huge appear Emergent, and their broad, bare backs upheave Into the clouds : their tops ascend the sky :' ' rose to the height of four thousand five hundred feet, covered with snow on the summit, of a dazzling whiteness, but grey, and grisly, as the eye descended towards the base. To finish the prospect, a chain which I have mentioned as skirting the White Mountains on the South- West, ascended at the distance of forty Vol. II. 41 318 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. miles North-West of Newbury, clothed in the most brilliant attire of January. This contrast of summer and winter, of exquisite beauty and the most gloomy grandeur, had the appearance of en chantment; and left an impression which can never be forgotten, until every image shall fade out of the memory. I will now return to Lancaster ; the starting point, whence all this train of excursions have been made ; and finish my observa tions upon this town. The common crop of wheat, here, is from fifteen to twenty bushels an acre; and that of maize from twenty-five to forty; ac cording to the variations of the seasons, and the husbandry. Spring wheat has been generally sown : but some late experi ments have shewn it to be highly probable, that the autumnal wheat may be sown with success. Two acres of white pine plain, belonging to Major W. of this town, yielded, in 1 797, a little more than one hundred bushels of this grain. Apple trees were unprosperous in Lancaster, until since the year 1 794. In 1 797 they were growing, in one nursery at least, very thriftily. In all parts of this country, where the vegetable mould is deep, I suspect the same misfortune will be found for a short time. The texture of this mould is so loose, that, whenev er trees are planted in it, the roots are not embraced with a suffi cient closeness, and uniformity, of adhesion. A tree cannot grow thriftily in a very close, or very loose, soil. In the former case, the roots cannot penetrate with sufficient ease, and rapidity; ¦ nor the water be supplied to them either in that quantity, or in the uniform manner, which is indispensable to their prospersous growth. In the latter case, the soil either retains the water, like a spunge, or, like a sieve, permits it to percolate with too much celerity. In wet seasons, the vegetable mould retains so much water, that the roots may be literally said to swim. In dry seasons, the mould scarcely adheres to the roots at all ; and of course supplies them with little or no nourishment. Wherev er the native earth shall have been sufficiently mixed with this mould by the plough ; apple-trees, and probably many other fruit-trees, may grow, here, as well as in the Countries below. I am, dear Sir, yours, &c. LETTER VI. Connecticut River. Dear Sir, Having explored Connecticut river almost throughout its whole length, and being about to take my leave of it, in these let' ters, I will proceed to give you a description of it. As it has never been justly described ; and as it is an object of primary im portance to the geography of New-England ; I flatter myself, that the following account, of the correctness of which you may be assured, will not be esteemed by you an improper part of my gen eral design. The section of this river, which I have not person ally examined, was described to me by Mr. Hughes ; a discreet and intelligent inhabitant of Colebrook ; who had often explored its whole progress, and who spent an afternoon in stating, and correcting, his own apprehensions concerning it, mile by mile, from its fountains to the place, where we forded it in our journey to the line. To his observations I was able to add those of Mr. Ames of Stuart ;. the surveyor mentioned above ; who was also well acquainted with many parts of its course. The information of Mr. Ames and Mr. Hughes, was harmonious in every thing, which had been observed by both. Connecticut River rises in New-Hampshire. Its fountains are between 44°, 50' and 45° North Latitude, and nearly in 71° West Longitude from London ; about twenty-five miles Eastward from its channel, where in the same latitude it divides Stuart and Cole brook from Canaan in Vermont. These fountains, which are at the distance of two or three miles from each other, flow in two small, converging rivulets ; one of which empties its waters into a pond, covering about six acres, whence it proceeds to a lake, which from its resemblance to the numerical figure 8, I shall name Double Lake. The other rivulet, also, unites with the same lake; which is two miles long, and half a mile wide ; and covers between five and six hundred acres. Hence the waters flow in a 320 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. single channel, about seven miles, into another lake, which from its figure I shall call Heart Lake ; about six miles long, and three broad, and covering between nine and ten thousand acres. From Heart Lake with a material addition to its current, the river runs North- Westward four miles and a half; and is a continual rapid through the whole distance. In one part of this reach it descends fifty feet in a course of three hundred. Below the rapid, it re ceives from the Northward a stream called Perry's Brook ; and a little further down, another, called Cedar brook. About two miles further on, it receives another from the South, called Dead water brook ; and, about a mile further, a fourth from the North, called Back brook, conveying into it the waters of a small lake, called Back lake. That portion of the Connecticut, which is be tween Perry's brook and Back brook, four miles in length, is named the Dead water : the ground on either side being low, and level ; and the stream, winding, sluggish, and deep. After re ceiving the waters of Back brook, it runs for one mile over a suc cession of rocks, termed the Great falls ; in one part of which it descends, perpendicularly, over a ledge twelve feet. Two miles below these falls, it receives the waters of Indian river; common ly known by the name of the Western, or Canada branch. This stream runs a course of about forty miles; and has its origin in the range of hills, which separate the District of Maine from Lower Canada. During the first half of its course it winds generally Westward ; and throughout the other half makes a straight prog ress directly South, until it joins the Connecticut. Between two and three miles below its confluence with Indian river, the Con necticut receives Hall's river ; Which runs South, also, about twenty miles, and joins it very near the forty-fifth degree of North Latitude. Just below their confluence, there is another fall, ex tending about twenty rods. A little above Hall's river, a consid erable brook, called Bishop's brook, joins the Connecticut from the South; and has its origin and course in the township of Stu art. Before its junction with Indian river, the Connecticut runs about the same distance with that stream ; and discharges more LETTER VI. 321 than twice its quantity of water into the common channel. Hall's river is sensibly less than Indian river. The course of the Connecticut to Perry's brook, between twenty-five and thirty miles, is North- Westward; thence to the forty-fifth degree of North Latitude West-South-West ; thence to the city of Hartford South-South- West; and thence to the Sound about South-East. The length of this river is about four hundred and ten miles. From Griswold's point, in Lyme, to the forty-fifth degree of North Latitude, the distance, measured upon its waters, is about three hundred and seventy-four ; and thence to the head waters, from thirty-five to forty. Its meanders throughout a great part of its course are almost perpetual. The number of its tributary streams is very great. The prin cipal of these are the following. On the East. Length, about miles. Upper Amonoosuc, - - 50 Lower Amonoosuc, - - 50 Ashuelot, 50 Miller's, ------- 35 Chequapee, 50 Scantic, 30 Salmon, 30 On the West. Length, about miles. Indian River, - - - 40 Halls, - ----- 20 Posoomsuck, - - - - 40 White, 50 Waterqueechy, - - 30 West, 37 Deerfield, 45 Agawam, ----- 45 Farmington, - - - - 65 The waters, which form the Connecticut, are remarkably pure and light ; such as we commonly term the best Water for wash ing. The tributary streams, almost without an exception, issue from hills, formed of stone, covered with a gravelly soil ; and roll over a gravelly, and stony bed, through their whole progress. The waters of the parent stream are, therefore, every where pure, potable, perfectly salubrious, and inferiour to none in the world for the use of seamen in long voyages. 322 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. As a navigable water, this river is inferiour to many others of a smaller size. This is owing to two causes ; falls, and shallows. the falls are the following. Names. Towns in which. Distance of their commencement from the mouth. Little falls, 350 miles. Great, 340 a Indian, Stuart, - - - - 335 a Judd's, Northumberland, 281 a Fifteen-mile, Dalton and Lyman , 260 a Lebanon, Lebanon, - - - 201 a Waterqueechy Bellows, , Plainfield, - - Rockingham, 193 158 aa Miller's, Montague, - - 120 a South-Hadley, Enfield, South-Hadley, Enfield, - - - 85 63 a a Length on the river. 4i miles 1 a 20 rods. 20 a 15 miles, 3 4 mile. 50 rods. i 2 mile. 8 miles, 3 CC j mile. The Fifteen mile falls, Waterqueechy, and Enfield, and the greatest part of the distance attributed to the others, are mere rapids ; and there are also some other small rapids, which are of no consequence. The distances from the mouth are measured on the road. The sloop navigation of this river extends to the foot of En field falls ; but is of no great value above Hartford. Enfield falls are passed by boats without difficulty. Boats go down the falls of Waterqueechy, but cannot easily ascend them. To their foot, one hundred and ninety-three miles from the mouth of the river, the navigation for boats carrying twenty-five tons, is by the ca nals heretofore described, rendered clear, and safe. A little la bour, bestowed on the falls of Waterqueechy, and locks with a strong dam, at those of Lebanon, would extend the navigation to the foot of the Fifteen mile falls, about two hundred and forty-five miles. Whenever the country above shall have become univer sally settled ; these obstructions will undoubtedly be removed. At present, the quantity of business is insufficient to justify the expense, necessary for this purpose. LETTER VI. 323 I have asserted above that the tributary streams of the Connec ticut are eminently pure. In the season of the vernal floods there is a remarkable exception to this general truth. At this season, the dissolution of snow, and descent of rains, wash large quantities of soil from the hilly regions, on both sides of the river ; and convey a prodigious mass of the finer particles along its chan nel towards the ocean. A great proportion of this mass contrib utes to the increase, and fertility, of the intervals, which so exten sively form its banks. Another, and not an inconsiderable part, subsides in the bed of the river ; and embarrasses the navigation by a succession of shallows. In a stream so winding, the channel changes irregularly from one bank to the other. In a stream so fluctuating, the channel shifts in some degree from year to year. Hence the shallows are subject to continual variations, as to their depth, their position, and their extent ; and are, therefore, inca pable of being accurately described. The first, and most important, of these shoals, is a bar, at the mouth, called Saybrook bar. This lies in the Sound, at a small distance below Lynde's and Griswold's points, which form the mouth ; and extends quite across the stream. On it are found, at the usual tides, but ten feet of water. It owes its existence to the earth, wafted down the river. At this spot the stream is met, and stopped, by the tide of the Sound. Here the waters of the river become quiescent ; and the earth, being heavier than the water, and ceasing to be borne along by the current, subsides. The shoal, thus begun, rises continually, until the space between its own surface, and that of the river, becomes so small, as to be barely sufficient for the passage of the water, in a current of the usual rapidity. Whenever this is accomplished, the earth is carried over the bar by the same cause, which wafted it thither. Shoals, formed by means substantially the same, are scattered up and down the stream, from Saybrook to its fountains. The current is often oblique ; and often refluent. From these facts, the water in various places becomes quiescent ; and, whenever such a quiescence exists, the earth, before suspended in the 324 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. stream, is deposited. A shoal is thus begun, and increased, until the shifting of the current carries it away. To this shifting the shoal itself contributes ; and the river is consequently in a contin ual fluctuation. All rivers, which flow through a fat soil, are subjected to similar changes. The Mississippi, the Nile, and the Ganges, have in this manner produced their shoals, and their Del tas ; which were once no other than shoals. Several of these shoals exist between Saybrook and Hartford ; one or two below Middletown, and some others above ; one of which stretches across the channel, and has only six feet water at full tide : I mean when the river is at its most usual height. In consequence of these obstructions, loaded vessels, of more than seventy tons, cannot sail from Hartford. Above Fifteen mile falls, the river is navigable for the boats, heretofore mentioned, to Judd's falls. Above these, it can be passed in similar boats, except when the stream is low, and even then in birch canoes, to the forty-fifth degree of North latitude. Hence, with the exception of three carrying places, around In dian, Great, and Little falls ; the first of twenty rods, the second of a mile ; and the third of three miles ; it is passed in such ca noes a mile and a half above Heart lake. Indian river admits the same canoes eighteen miles ; and Hall's river about five. There is one short carrying place in Indian river, about four miles from its mouth. Prpduce has been conveyed from the foot of Fifteen mile falls to Hartford. A company, as I have heretofore observed, was formed at Hartford in the year 1800, with a capital of #80,000, for the pur pose of improving the navigation between that city and the Sound. They have begun their operations with such success, that they have already increased the depth of the river a foot and a half. Strong hopes are rationally entertained of accomplishing much more. Were a channel of sufficient depth completed across Say brook bar, and some small obstructions lessened further up, ves sels of two hundred tons might ascend to Middletown, thirty-three miles from the mouth. The only serious difficulty in accomplish- LETTER VI. 325 ing this design exists in the apprehension, that the channel, when completed, would soon be filled up. Whether this apprehension be well grounded, or not, I am unable to determine. Salmon, not i mprobably the finest in the world, were in great numbers caught until very lately, in the waters of this river quite up to Colebrook. Since the erection of the several dams, which have been mentioned, they have chiefly, or wholly, deserted it. Shad were formerly taken in abundance as high up as Bellow's falls. They are now stopped by the dam at Montague. Herrings are plentifully taken as high up as Wethersfield. Since the sal mon have left this river, it is frequented by great numbers of the striped bass. It abounds, as do its tributary streams also, with the smaller river fish of this climate. I am, Sir, yours, &c. Vol. II. 4.2 LETTER VII. Valley of the Connecticut. Dear Sir, The VaUey of the Connecticut is a tract of land, extending from the Sound to Hereford Mountain ; five miles beyond tbe forty- fith degree of latitude. In the largest sense it includes the tract, which is bounded by the Lyme range on the East, and by a con fused cluster of hills, commencing at the Sound, and terminating below Middletown, then by the Middletown range, then by that of Mount Tom, and then by that of the Green Mountains, on the West. In this sense, it is of very different breadths, from five miles perhaps to forty-five ; and its surface is composed of an indefinite succession of hills, vallies and plains. But there is another sense, in which the phrase is used with more obvious propriety, and in which it denotes that portion of this vast extent, which appears as a valley to the eye, moving in the road along its course from its mouth to the great bend in the Northern part of the township of Stuart. Understood in this manner, the Valley of the Connecticut con sists of a succession of openings, or, as I shall term them, expan sions ; differing from each other in their breadth, and still more from the intervening, narrow glens, by which they are united. The first of these expansions, as we advance from the Sound, commences about five or six miles below Middletown ; and ex tends to Stepney, about twelve miles from North to South, and about the same distance from East to West. In this expansion lie the large townships of Middletown, and Chatham, and the township of Durham. The valley of Durham opens from it, on the Eastern side of the Middletown range to the Sound at East- Haven. The view of this expansion, taken from an advantageous stand, is most interesting to the traveller. The objects, of which it is composed, are fashioned with uncommon elegance ; and se lected, and arranged, with peculiar felicity. LETTER VII. 327 The second, and largest expansion on this River begins at Step ney ; and extends from sixteen to twenty-four miles in breadth, and from its Southern limit to Mount Tom, and Mount Holyoke : fifty miles. From its South- Western border, the valley of Berlin opens between the ranges of Middletown, and Mount Tom, to the Sound at New- Haven : thirty-four miles. This expansion con tains the townships of Wethersfield, Hartford, Berlin and Wind sor, a part of Granby, Suffield, West-Springfield, a part of East- Hampton, and a small tract of Northampton, on the West of the River ; and on the East, Glastonbury, East-Hartford, Ver non, East-Windsor, Ellington, Somers, Long Meadow, South Wilbraham, Springfield, Wilbraham, Palmer, Ludlow, South- Hadley, and Granby ; together with the skirts of other townships, both in Connecticut and Massachusetts. The prospects, present ed by this expansion, are in many places extremely beautiful, and every where magnificent. The third great expansion begins immediately North of the mountains Tom and Holyoke ; and extends to the North line of the State of Massachusetts. Like the others, it opens through the valley of Farmington, from the South' Western quarter, to New-Haven : seventy -six miles* On the Sound the vallies of Durham, and Farmington, are at the Utmost distance not more than five miles asunder ; while on the Connecticut, they are sixty. The prospects in this expansion I have heretofore particularly described. It contains the townships of Southampton, East- Hampton, West-Hampton, Northampton, Hatfield, Williams- burgh, Whately, Deerfield, Greenfield, Bernardston, Gill, and Ver non, on the West ; and on the East, Hadley, Amherst, Sunder land, LevCrett, Montague, Northfield, and Hinsdale together with a part of several other townships. To a traveller it presents a variety of very beautiful landscapes. Deerfield Mountain rises in this expansion at the distance of fifteen miles from its Southern limit ; and extending Northward about twelve miles, sinks grad ually almost to a plain ; but ascends again at the distance of a few miles, and passes onwards to Vermont. This expansion at the South end, is about twenty-four miles in breadth ; the North- 328 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. ern, about fourteen ; and the Middle, about eight. The open ings on both sides of this mountain between the two ends of this expansion, as seen from Mount Holyoke and other commanding situations, are remarkably interesting objects. The fourth great expansion is that, which I have described in the account of Lancaster. Besides these there are beautiful openings at Walpole, Charles town, Windsor, Orford, Haverhill, Stratford, and Colebrook ; to gether with many others, so small as not to merit particular no tice. Several of these, particularly those at Charlestown, Hav erhill, and Colebrook, are from ten to twenty miles in length. All these openings are handsome ; some of them beautiful. The Valley of the Connecticut extends through almost four de grees of latitude ; and is bounded on the North by Hereford mountain ; a magnificent eminence, ascending five miles beyond the line. The superiour limit of this mountain is an arch more gracefully formed than that of any other, within my remembrance. Its elevation is about 2000 feet above the neighbouring country. The Intervals on this Valley begin at Hall's River about twelve or fourteen miles from its mouth. The word, Interval, you have undoubtedly observed, is used by me in a sense, altogether differ ent from that, which it has in an English Dictionary. Doctor Belknap spells it Intervale ; and confesses his want of authority for the use of the word. There is in truth no such word ; un less we are to look for its existence in vulgar, and mistaken pro nunciation. Originally, when applied to this very subject, it seems to have meant nothing more than that extent of ground, which lay between the original bank of the river, and the river itself. This extent was composed of land, peculiar in its form, and qualities. The English, so far as I know, have no appropri ate name for grounds of this class. Whether such lands exist on the rivers in Great Britain I am ignorant ; having never seen any definite account of them ; or allusion to them, in any book, de scriptive of the surface of that country. From the accounts in Sir John Sinclair's Statistical History of Scotland of the lands on some rivers in that country, I should suppose, that a part of them LETTER VII. 329 must be Intervals. Yet they are distinguished by no appropriate name. On some rivers in this country there are none ; and on others, very few. Wherever they exist, they are objects of pe culiar attention to farmers, and subjects of much customary con versation. That a name should be given to them, therefore, is a thing of course. Interval is the name which they have accident ally obtained in this country : and a New-Englander relishes; it more than flats, and bottoms.* This word, in its appropriate meaning, denotes lands, formed by a long continued, and gradual alluvion of a river. The origin of these lands may be thus explained. The tributary streams of the Connecticut run every where through a soft and rich soil, considerable quantities of which particularly the lighter and finer particles are from time to time washed into their channels by occasional currents, springing from rains, and melted snows. Wherever the stream moves with an uniform current, these parti cles are carried along with it ; but, wherever the current is ma terially checked, they are in greater or less quantities deposited. In this manner a shoal is formed at first, which, as the particles gradually accumulate, rises slowly towards and ultimately above, the ordinary surface by the subsidence of these particles, when the river is high. You will easily believe, that in a long contin ued progress of years every stream, where it flows through mere earth, must gradually deepen its bed. With regard to Connecti cut river, I have seen the most abundant evidence, that the chan nel is deeper throughout almost every part of its progress than it was formerly. In every such case, the lands, formed in this man ner, stand of course above all the ordinary floods ; and some of them above the highest. The existence of some cause to check the current is absolutely necessary to the formation of Intervals. Wherever such cause is found, Intervals are found, proportioned as to their size and qual ity, to the following things : the room furnished on the side of the stream for their formation ; the extent and power, of the check ; and the lightness of the soil about the tributary streams, * Names for the same lands in States, South of New-England. 330 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. All these must co-operate, or Intervals will not exist ; and all these actually co-operate, in the region under consideration. According to these remarks, such lands are universally formed by rivers, conveying slime, wherever sufficient space is furnished for their reception ; and where falls, streights, points of land, or any other causes, check the current. On the contrary, wherev er the current is uniform ; the water at all times pure ; or the banks high, sufficiently near to each other, and sufficiently firm, merely to yield a passage for the stream ; Intervals are not, and cannot be formed. A great part of the Intervals on the Connecticut appear to have been, and all of them probably were, originally islands. This is strongly evident with respect to those now forming, or which have been lately formed. All these now are, or certainly have been, Islands. Besides, the rear of all those, which I have examined, (and these are numerous) is considerably lower than the mass ; and wears obviously the appearance of a channel. The facts evidently seem to have been these. The principal channel of the river was formerly on the rear of the Interval ; and the alluvial soil was accumulated sufficiently to straiten the channel and check the current. The stream Sought a new pas sage for itself; and gradually wore it deep enough to receive the whole body of water. During the same period the original channel was filled up by new accessions of soil. But, as this was the place where the river ran longest, and retired last, it has rarely been filled to the common level. With this exception, Intervals are universally lower towards a river ; and resemble terraced plats in a garden. They are also undulating, where there is the same general level ; the channels of the waves being always parallel with the course of the river at the time they were formed. These lands are subject to many changes. Every new obliqui ty of the current wears away some part of the interval, against which its force is directed. In the progress of such changes the inhabitants on the Connecticut have already seen large tracts gradually removed from one side to the other. The former chan- LETTER VII. 331 nel, in the mean time, has been filled up, so as in many instances to leave no trace of its existence ; and a new one has been worn through the solid ground. Nor is this all. This channel has been sometimes gradually removed by the encroachments of the river on both sides beyond the nearest bank of the former. From the manner, in which these lands were brought into ex istence, we shall easily believe, that they are of the richest quali ty. Such is almost invariably the fact. There is, however, a material difference in their fertility. The parts, which are low est, are commonly the best ; as being most frequently overflowed, and therefore most enriched by the successive deposits of slime. Of these parts that division, which is farthest down the river, is the most productive, as consisting of finer particles, and being more plentifully covered with this manure. In the Spring these grounds are almost annually overflowed. In the months of March and April, the snows, which in the Northern parts of New-England are usually deep, and the rains which at this time of the year are generally copious, raise the river from fifteen to twenty feet ; and extend the breadth of its waters in some places a mile and a half, or two miles. Almost all the slime, conveyed down the current at this season, is deposited on these lands ; for here, principally, the water becomes quiescent, and permits the earthy particles to subside. This deposit is a rich manure. The lands, dressed with it, are preserved in their full strength ; and, being regularly en riched by the hand of nature, cannot but be highly valuable. Nor are these grounds less distinguished by their beauty. The form of most of them is elegant. A river, passing through them, becomes almost of course winding. As the earth, of which they are composed, is of an uniform texture ; the impressions, made by the stream upon the border, are also nearly uniform. Hence this border is almost universally a handsome arch, with a margin entirely neat, and very commonly ornamented with a fine fringe of shrubs and trees. Nor is the surface of these grounds less pleasing. The terraced form, and the undulations already men tioned, are both eminently handsome. In a country abounding in hills, plains moderate in their extent, like these, are always agree- 332 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. able. Their universal fertility makes a cheerful impression on every eye. A great part of them is formed into meadows. Mead ows are here more profitable, and every where more beautiful, than lands devoted to any other culture. Here they are extend ed from five to five hundred acres; and are every where covered with a verdure peculiarly rich and vivid. The vast fields also, which are not in meadow, exhibit all the productions of the cli mate, interspersed in parallelograms, divided only by mathemat ical lines, and mingled in a charming confusion. In many places, large and thrifty orchards, and every where forest trees standing singly, of great height, and graceful figures, diversify the land scape. To all this I ought to subjoin, that, as these lands are not divided by enclosures on account of the anmial floods, each inter val appears, not as artificially fruitful, but as a field of na ture, spontaneously producing all its vegetation, and originally furnished by the hand of the Creator, with all its beauties. The whole quantity of these lands on the Connecticut cannot be conjectured. Probably they may amount to sixty thousand acres. They exist almost every where along its course ; and are from a fourth of a mile to two miles in breadth. Single intervals contain from five to perhaps five thousand acres. They exist most extensively in Wethersfield, Hartford, Windsor, Glastonbu ry, East-Hartford, and East- Windsor, in Connecticut; in Long- Meadow, Springfield, Northampton, Hadley, Hatfield, Sunderland, Deerfield, and Northfield, in Massachusetts ; in Windsor, Newbu ry, Lunenburgh, and Guildhall, in Vermont ; and in Charlestown, Haverhill, and Lancaster, in New-Hampshire. These lands also abound on the tributary streams, which empty into the Connecti cut. The Agriculture on this river may be regarded as a medium of New-England husbandry. I am. Sir, yours, &c. LETTER VIII. Inhabitants of the Connecticut Valley. Dear Sir, The inhabitants of this valley may be said in several respects to possess a common character ; and, in all the different States, resemble each other more than their fellow-citizens, who live on the coast, resemble them. This similarity is derived from their descent, their education, their local circumstances, and' their mu tual iutercourse. In the older settlements most of the inhabit ants are natives of this valley ; and those, who are not, yield to the influence of a character, which they continually see all around them.. In the more recent settlements, where greater numbers, and often a majority, were not born in this tract, the same char acter has regularly gained ground ; and in most of them is al ready evident to an observing traveller. Education, communicated. by those, who have a common char acter, transmits its influence to those, who are educated. I have mentioned, that their local situation contributed to the establishment of this similarity. They are so remote from a mar ket, as to be perfectly free from that sense of inferiority, cus tomarily felt by the body of people, who live in the neighbour-* hood of large cities. Hence a superior spirit of personal indepen dence is generated, and cherished. At the same time, people, who live on a pleasant surface, and on a soil, fertile and easy of cultivation, usually possess softer dis positions, and manners, and feel themselves entitled to a higher character, than those, who from inhabiting rougher grounds ac quire rougher minds, and form coarser habits. Even the beauty of the scenery, scarcely found in the same degree elsewhere, be comes a source of pride, as well as of enjoyment. Here all the older settlements, and a greater part of the more recent ones, are formed in villages. The influence of this mode of settlement I have elsewhere exhibited. It is here realized in Vol. II. 43 334 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. its fullest extent. Churches and suites of schools are built in them. Families have not only opportunity, but the most conven ient opportunities, for being present at the public worship of GOD. Children also are sent universally at an early age to school ; and begin their education almost as soon as they can speak. In consequence of these facts, the inhabitants are better educated, and more orderly, than in most other parts even of New-England. There is no tract of the same size, in which learning is more, or more uniformly encouraged ; or where sobri ety or decorum, is more generally demanded, or exhibited. Stead iness of character ; softness of manners ; a disposition to read ; respect for the laws, and magistrates ; a strong sense of liberty, blended with an equally strong sense of the indispensable impor tance of energetic government ; are all extensively predominant in this region. The industry of these people is every where diffused, but less vigorous than among the inhabitants of the hills. In economy, hospitality, and charity, they are inferiour to those of no other tract of equal extent. The towns in this valley are not, like those along the Hudson, mere collections of houses and stores, clustered round a landing ; where nothing but mercantile and mechanical business is done ; where the inhabitants appear to form no connections, or habits, beside those, which naturally grow out of bargains and sales ; where the. position of the store determines that of the house ; and that of the wharf often commands both ; where beauty of situa tion is disregarded, and every convenience, except that of trade, is forgotten. Onthe contrary, they are villages, destined for the reception of men, busied in all the employments, existing in this country ; and usually contain a great part of the inhabitants in each township. The intention of settling in them is not merely to acquire property ; but to sustain the relations, perform the du ties, and contribute to the enjoyments of life. Equally, and to my eye happily, do they "differ from most European villages. The villages on the other side of the Atlantic are exhibited as being generally clusters of houses, standing contiguously on the street; LETTER XVUI. 335 built. commonly of rough stone, clay, or earth, and roofed with thatch; without court-yards, or enclosures ; and of course inca pable of admitting around each house the beautiful appendages of shrubs, trees, gardens, and meadows. New-England villages, and in a peculiar degree those of the tract under consideration, are built in the following manner. The local situation is pitched on as a place in itself desirable ; as a place, where life may be passed through more pleasantly than in most others ; as a place, not where trade compels, but where happiness invites, to settle. Accordingly the position of these towns is usually beautiful. The mode of settlement is such, as greatly to enhance the pleasure intended. The body of inhab itants is composed of farmers ; and farmers no where, within my knowledge, of a superiour character for intelligence, and good manners. The mechanics, the class next in numbers, have their full share of this character ; and usually aim at a higher degree of respectability than in most parts of the country. Of both sorts a considerable number merit the appellation of gentlemen. A more than common proportion of men, liberally and politely edu cated, reside in the towns of this valley ; and the pleasures of in tellectual and refined society are here enjoyed to a considerable extent. To this character of the inhabitants the manner of locating, and building, these towns is happily suited. The town-plat is originally distributed into lots, containing from two to ten acres. In a con venient spot, on each of these, a house is erected at the bottom of the court-yard ; (often neatly enclosed ;) and is furnished uni versally with a barn, and other convenient out-buildings. Near the house there is always a garden, replenished with culinary vegetables, flowers, and fruits, and very often, also, prettily enclo sed. The lot, on which the house stands, universally styled the home lot, is almost of course a meadow, richly cultivated, cover ed during the pleasant season with verdure, and containing gene rally a thrifty orchard. It is hardly necessary to observe, that these appendages spread a singular cheerfulness, and beauty, over a New-England village ; or that they contribute largely to render the house a delightful residence. 336 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. The towns in this Valley, taken together, are better built than an equal number in any other part of the United States ; unless perhaps on the Eastern coast of Massachusetts, where the wealth of the inhabitants is greatly superiour. Most generally they are built of wood ; and are neater, lighter, and pleasanter dwellings than those of brick, or stone. As they stand at a distance from each other, they are little exposed to fire, except from within ; and accordingly are very rarely consumed. Both they, and the public buildings, are usually painted white. No single fact ex cept the universal verdure, and the interspersion of streams, con tributes equally to the sprightly, Cheerful appearance of any country. In this Valley the principal Commerce of the country, within twenty miles of the river, is carried on ; and a great part of their mechanical business is done. Here the newspapers, circulated throughout this region, are printed ; and the bookstores kept, by which the inhabitants are supplied. Here also, the great body of information concerning this and other countries is first received, and disseminated ; and here fashions of all kinds are first adopted from abroad, and diffused throughout the vicinity. In this region poverty, in its absolute sense, is scarcely known. Those who are here styled poor, possess usually both the neces saries and comforts of life. The paupers, maintained by the pub lic, compared with the whole number of inhabitants, are proba bly not more than one out of threes or four hundred. Every man, with hardly an exception, lives on his own ground, and in his own house. Every man, therefore, possesses an absolute, personal independence ; derived from his earliest ancestor, and secured by the government, under which he lives. It was born with him: and therefore sits upon him easily, and naturally. The ancestor, from whom he derived it, he respects. The government, by which it is secured, he loves, and venerates, and is ever ready to defend. Life, here, is therefore seen in all its pleasing, rural forms ; and in these forms is seen with uncommon advantage. The intercourse of the inhabitants is invited, and cherished, by all the facts already mentioned. To these may be added the LETTER VIII. 337 goodness of the roads, and the inns ; and the salubrity of the cli mate. The time has not been long passed since the roads on the hills were almost universally too rough to be travelled for pleas ure. At that time the roads in this Valley were generally good, throughout a great extent. Hence the inhabitants were allured to a much more extensive intercourse with each other than those in any other part of New-England, except along the Eastern coast. For the same reasons a multitude of strangers have at all times been induced to make this Valley the scene of their pleas urable travelling. The effects of this intercourse on the minds, and manners, of the inhabitants I need not explain. Beauty of landscape is an eminent characteristic of this Valley. From Hereford mountain to Saybrook, it is almost a continued succession of delightful scenery. No other tract within my knowl edge, and from the extensive information which I have received, 1 am persuaded, that no other tract within the United States, of the same extent, can be compared to it, with respect to those ob jects, which arrest the eye of the painter, and the poet. There are indeed dull, uninteresting spots in considerable numbers. These, however, are little more than the discords which are gen erally regarded as necessary to perfect the harmony. The beau ty, and the grandeur, are here more varied than elsewhere. They return oftener : they are longer continued : they are finish ed by a hand, operating in a superiour manner. A gentleman of great respectability,* who had travelled in England, France and Spain, informed me, that the prospects along the Connecticut ex celled those on the beautiful rivers in these three counties in two great particulars ; the Forests, and the Mountains ; (he might, I believe, have added the intervals also ;) and fell short of them in nothing but population, and the productions of art. It is hardly necessary to observe, that both these are advancing with a rapid step (perhaps sufficiently rapid,) towards a strong resemblance to European improvement. The first object, however, in the whole landscape is undoubted ly the Connecticut itself. This stream may perhaps with as much * The late Chief Justice Ellsworth. 338 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINt. propriety, as any in the world, be named the beautiful river. From Stuart to the Sound, it uniformly sustains this character. The purity, salubrity, and sweetness, of its waters ; the frequen cy, and elegance, of its meanders ; its absolute freedom from all aquatic vegetables ; the uncommon and universal beauty of its banks ; here a smooth and winding beach ; there covered with rich verdure ; now fringed with bushes ; now crowned with lofty trees ; and now formed by the intruding hill, the rude bluff, and the shaggy mountain ; are objects, which no traveller can thor oughly describe, and no reader adequately imagine. When to these are added the numerous towns, villages, and hamlets, al most every where exhibiting marks of prosperity and improve ment ; the rare appearance of decline ; the numerous churches, lifting their spires in frequent succession ; the neat school-houses, every where occupied ; and the mills, busied on such a multitude of streams ; it may be safely asserted, that a pleasanter journey will rarely be found than that, which is made in the Connecticut Valley. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER IX. Newbury — Observations on the blasting of wheat — Bradford — Fairlce. Dear Sir, On Thursday, October 6th, we left Lancaster early in the morning ; and rode to Bath through Dalton, Littleton, and Con cord. The road, except the stony spot, which has been former ly mentioned, I found greatly improved, and substantially resem bling those, which are in settlements long established. Dalton was much less advanced than I had imagined it must be : a natu ral consequence of its being, as is said, principally the property of two wealthy men, who are unwilling to sell their lands at such a price, as settlers are either inclined, or able, to give. Littleton wears a more promising aspect ; and is extensively converted in to farms. I found my former host, Mr. Williams, possessed of a large and good house, with very comfortable accommodations around him. His farm was extensively cleared, and cultivated ; and it was not a little gratifying to see the spirit and industry, with which he had planted himself in a region, at that time so soli tary and forbidding, crowned with such success. Indeed this re gion had lost the gloomy, discouraging appearance, with which it was invested in 1797. Concord also was very materially chang ed for the better ; and Bath still more extensively. In this township we found an inn, better than most of those, of which the large towns on the shore can boast. Since the date of this journey, the inhabitants of Bath have settled a respectable clergyman ; a native of Scotland. Under his ministry they have become to a considerable extent superiour both in their character, and their circumstances, to the other in habitants of this neighbourhood. The next morning we left Bath, and rode to the ferry in Or ford, through Newbury, Bradford, and Fairlee ; all in Vermont. The River is here perhaps twenty-five rods in breadth, deep and of a brisk current. The boat was managed by two children, 340 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. smaller than I had ever seen trusted with such an employment. But the expedition and safety, with which we crossed the River, proved their perfect competency for the business ; and convinced me, that we generally estimate the capacity of children be neath the truth. Immediately below the ferry lies a remarkable Interval, extensively known in New-England by the name of the Great Oxbow, and still more extensively by the name of the Lower Coos. This is a peninsula, containing about nine hundred acres, and washed on three sides by the River, winding in the form of a beautiful bow. The isthmus, which connects it with Newbury, is about half a mile in breadth ; and the circuit of the bow about four miles. The whole extent is one vast meadow, covered with the richest verdure ; except a small tract, convert ed into arable ground ; and it is scarcely possible for mere earth to exhibit a more beautiful surface. Newbury is a pleasant town in the North-East corner of the county of Orange, of which it is the shire town.* It is built along the road from six to eight miles in a sparse manner, except at the centre ; where there is a small village. The houses, both in size and structure, are moderately good ; but not being paint ed, have an unpleasant appearance. The court-house, and church, exhibit nothing remarkable. The steeple of the latter was the first, which was erected in Vermont. The soil in this township appears every where to be good. Formerly the Intervals, the plain immediately above them, (on which the town is built,) and the hills in the rear of the plain, all yielded wheat in abundance ; as did indeed almost every part of the country both above and below. For some time past this crop has been frequently blasted ; but I am informed that within two or three years these grounds have again yielded wheat under a new mode of cultivation. The reason why the lands in New-England, whichformerlyyield- ed wheat surely and plentifully, suffer at the present time such in juries from the blast, as in a great measure to discourage farmers from attempting to cultivate it, has been anxiously and extensively * Danville has since been made the shire town. LETTER IX. 341 sought for, but not it is believed, satisfactorily discovered. From my own observation, and enquiries, I have been induced to attri bute this evil to the efficacy of animal manure. This subject has been already mentioned in my observations *on the county of Worcester : it shall now be resumed. The manner, in which wheat is generally blasted in New-Eng land, appears to me very evidently to be this. During the months of June and July, when the kernels of wheat in the different cli mates of New-England are in the milk, the vegetation is far more rapid than in most countries of Europe. Whenever the season at this period is both moist, and hot, the rapidity becomes extreme. The vegetable juice, ascending then in too great quantities, and with a new celerity, moves with difficulty through the vessels of the stalk, regularly lessening towards the neck, and at that time so ten der as to be easily ruptured, bursts* them in various places ; partic ularly at the neck ; and flows out upon tbe surface of the stem. When it first exudes, it is very sweet to the taste ; and has hence been commonly supposed to be the residuum of a particular kind of dew, called by the farmers honey-dew. Had any farmer recol lected, what he cannot fail to find where he finds a honey-dew, that it never appears on any thing beside living-vegetables;, and that, if it were a dew,, it must be found equally on every other substance exposed to the atmosphere ; he would certainly have determined, that it was merely the sweet juice of the vegetable itself. When this juice has pervaded the stalk, it soon becomes sour in the sun-beams ; then so acrid, as to corrode the stalk ; and finally a rust, (as it is commonly called,) of a brown hue, and an offensive smell. Animal manure beyond any other accelerates vegetation.' Wheat, nurtured by this manure, grows with so mueh rapidity, and with so tender a stalk, that in the agricultural language of this country, it lodges not unfrequently, (i. e. it falls under the pres sure of wind or rain) by its own weight ; and never recovers its original position. This dangerous process is peculiarly advanced by the use of this manure ; and the rapidity of vegetation, othen- wise too great, is by this substance rendered still greater. Hence Vol. II. 44 342 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. all fields, where this manure is employed, are peculiarly exposed to blast. For a few years after lands are dressed with it the evil is so evident to the eye of common observation, as to be not unfrequently believed to exist by some farmers, and suspected by others. Were every season hot, and wet, during this period, it would, I doubt not, have long since been generally realized, and acknowledged. But as in some seasons these months are cool and dry ; and those fields which have been dressed with this ma nure, then yield wheat successfully ; and as in the most unfa vourable seasons ; lands dressed in a different manner, are also subjected to the blast ; the question has hitherto failed of any an swer, which has been generally satisfactory. The reasons, which have induced me to adopt the opinion here alleged, are principally the following. I. All the lands in this country, which were not too wet, ori ginally yielded wheat, easily, surely, and so far as they were rich, abundantly. The inhabitants of Northampton for many years paid their public tax in wheat ; and this wheat grew on the very lands, where for a long period it has been supposed to be so un certain an object of culture, as to be scarcely worth the attempt, i. e. on Intervals. II. New lands yield wheat perfectly well in most parts of this country at the present time. Some farmers believe, that there is such a change wrought by time, either in the climate or in the soil, independently of the proper effects of culture, that the blast is to be attributed to this change. Although this is a mere sup position, supported by no evidence, it has still had its weight. But it is entirely refuted by the fact, mentioned under this head. Lands in the same circumstances yield wheat as abundantly at the present time, as at any former period. It deserves to be remark ed, that all the Intervals along the Connecticut have furnished sure crops of this grain for a considerable time after they first began to be cultivated. III. Lands dressed with ashes, now furnish fine crops of wheat, which is rarely or never blasted. The only reason why the crops on new lands are so safe from the blast, is that they LETTER IX. 343 are covered with vegetable mould ; another name for vegetable manure ; and so long as the efficacy of this manure lasts, are dressed with no other. It is the universal tendency of this mould to produce great crops ; but it produces them by a gradu al and moderate vegetation. Ashes, which are the same ma nure in another form, produce the same effect in exactly the same manner. Accordingly, although the crop of wheat, yielded by grounds dressed with ashes, is abundant ; yet the stalk is firm, and strong ; much stronger, but much shorter than that produ ced by animal manure, and equally safe from lodging, and blast ing, as that, which grows on vegetable mould. It ought to be observed, that in grounds, where the vegetable mould is very deep, and abundant, wheat grows so rapidly as to be universally blasted. That this effect is solely derived from the redundance of this manure is certain, because the same lands after the cultivation of a few years yield wheat perfectly well. IV. In various instances, which have fallen within my knowl edge, wheat, sown after clover, has been perfectly free from any injury by the blast ; and that on Intervals, and other lands most liable to this injury. Here vegetable manure has been employed in another form ; yet the same effect has been produced. V. Lands, dressed with gypsum, have been equally favourable to wheat. This good effect has, however, been commonly pro duced through the medium of clover ; the gypsum having been first employed for the production of this plant, and the wheat having been sown after the clover had been ploughed in. VI. Fields, manured with the white fish, have yielded wheat, universally, in great abundance, and with almost absolute certain ty. This is indeed animal manure also ; but very different from that, which I have intended by this phrase above; viz. that of the stable and barn-yard. The white-fish is a species of herring, very fat and oily, and remarkably favourable to vegetation of every kind, which is the object either of agriculture, or horticulture. I have mentioned this fact, to shew, that the evil, complained of, has its origin neither in the soil, nor in the climate ; but in the particular mode of cultivation, which I have mentioned as its proper cause. 344 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. VII. The lands in Pennsylvania, which yield plentiful crops of wheat, are regularly dressed with lime, or gypsum ; and neither here, nor in those old settlements in the State of New- York, where this grain is least exposed to the blast, are cattle very nu merous. Of course, the kind of manure, which I suppose to be noxious to this plant, cannot abound in these countries. I am in formed also, that, where this manure is used, it is generally mix ed with other substances in a compost; and converted, either part ly, or wholly, into mould, before it is employed as a dressing. It ought also to be observed, that a great part of the wheat lands in these countries are clay ; and that the process of vegetation may be therefore materially different from that, which exists in New- England, where the soil is principally loam, with a mixture of gravel. It is however said, that in Pennsylvania their crops fail, where they are unable to dress the lands with lime, or gypsum. It is also said, that the lands along the Mohawk river, which have heretofore yielded wheat with great certainty, as well as luxuri ance, are gradually becoming less and less fitted for this kind of culture. I have been informed that at Newbury they have lately adopted a new kind of husbandry, by means of which the crops of wheat are no less sure, and prosperous, than they were formerly. What this mode is, I have not, however, been able to learn. In my own belief, animal manure produces this noxious effect long after it has ceased to enrich the soil. Although its influence has in this case become small ; yet, so far as it extends, it is mis chievous ; and may at the dangerous period above mentioned ac celerate a growth, at least sufficiently rapid otherwise, so as to produce the evil in question. Thus I consider grounds, long de voted to pasturage, as being injurious to the culture of wheat as really, though in a less degree, as those, which are manured from the stable in form. It ought, however, to be observed, that, since the Hessian fly has rendered it impossible to cultivate what is here called the white bald wheat, we have lost the species, best fitted for the soil, and climate, of New-England, as well as that, which furnished the LETTER IX. 345 best bread. All the substitutes for this wheat have yielded infe riour crops ; have been more exposed to the blast ; have been more injured by the frost ; have weighed less ; and have been of an inferiour quality. Should these observations be allowed to merit the attention of farmers in this country, it would certainly be worth an experi ment to see how far the use of vegetable, and mineral, manures would remedy this very serious evil. Were lands, intended for the culture of wheat, to be employed for this purpose during a considerable period ; were clover, or other vegetable substances, or, where they can be obtained, mineral manures, to be alone em ployed as the means of enriching the soil ; I am persuaded my countrymen would again see their crops of this grain not less sure, less abundant, nor less general, than they were in former times. The people of Newbury appear to have cut down their forests with an improvident hand : an evil but too common in most parts of this country. Unhappily it is an increasing evil ; and may hereafter put a final stop to the progress of population, long be fore it will have reached to the natural acme. Almost every person complains of this imprudence ; and yet not a single effica cious, nor hopeful measure is adopted to lessen, or even to check it. A farmer, when employed in cutting down a grove, rarely remembers, that it will require thirty years to furnish on the same spot wood, fit for fuel ; and sixty, to yield that, which will be come useful timber. As rarely does he recollect, that the boughs and branches, which he leaves to perish on the ground, would supply warmth to one or two indigent families. Forecast is cer tainly no predominant trait in the character of man : else an evil of this magnitude would create very serious apprehensions. About the year 1782, a spring was discovered in this township, which, it is said, ceases to flow for some time, once in every two or three years. When its waters are left to settle, they are cov ered with a yellow pellicle ; and emit a strong sulphureous odour. No attempt, within my knowledge, has been made to use them medicinally. 346 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. The scenery, presented to the eye of a traveller, as he passes through this town, every where demands his observation. Among other fine objects, Moosehillock, or Moosheelock, is peculiarly interesting. This noble eminence ascends, as I should judge, not less than 4,500 feet above the level of the ocean ; and is proba bly higher than any mountain in New-England, except the White Mountains. Its form is majestic ; and the point of view, in which it is seen from this spot, is as advantageous as can be conceived. Newbury contained in 1790, 873 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,424 ; and, in 1810, 1,363. Bradford is a continuation of the same soil and scenery. Along the road, it is inferiour in both respects to Newbury, but in the interiour the soil is said to be particularly productive. It con tains a small, pleasant village, built on a handsome plain, with a decent church in the centre. Of Fairlee we saw very little, and nothing particularly interest ing, except the fine bluffs, mentioned in the description of Orford. The soil is said to be inferiour to that of Bradford, and the sur face of the interiour to be rough and broken. Bradford contained in 1790, 654 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,064 ; and, in 1810, 1,302. Fairlee contained in 1790, 463 inhabitants. In 1796 it was di vided into two townships, named East and West-Fairlee ; the former of which contained in 1800, 386 inhabitants, and the latter 381. In 1810, both the townships contained 983 inhabit ants. From Fairlee we crossed to Orford on a neat bridge, consisting of one very obtuse arch, supported by trestles. This at the date of our journey, was the Northernmost structure of the kind on Connecticut river. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER X. Keene. Dear Sir, We left Orford on Saturday, October 8th, and rode to Dart mouth, where we continued until Monday morning. We then pursued our journey ; and arrived at Charleston, the same eve ning. On Tuesday, the 1 1 th, we proceeded to Keene, through Walpole, and a corner of Surrey. The road, immediately from the village of Walpole, ascends a lofty eminence ; a part of the chain of mountains, which passes on to the North from Mount To by in Sunderland, and appears to blend itself with other spurs from the Lime range, North of the township of Claremont. At Walpole, this ridge is ascended with no other difficulty" than what is derived from its height ; the acclivity being sufficiently gradual to admit of the passage of waggons heavily loaded; but the height will always render the ascent very toilsome, and discouraging, to travellers. Nor is the descent very pleasant. Beside its vast length, it is in various places sufficiently steep to be uncomforta ble. The summit, however, presents a very noble prospect. Im mediately beneath the eye lies the Connecticut Valley on the West, and that of the Ashuelot on the East. The latter is about nine miles in length, and magnificently bounded by the range of Mount Wash ington, a long succession of lofty and varied eminences ; far above all which at the distance of twenty miles from the spectator as cends the conical summit of Monadnoc at the height of 3,254 feet above the level of the ocean. A finer object can scarcely be con ceived ; nor a position in which it could be more advantageously seen. Westward is spread the Connecticut, bordered by inter vals on both sides, together with the cheerful villages of Walpole and Westminster, lying in a basin about nine miles in length, and terminated on the North by the Fall Mountain, a promontory of the boldest figure. Beyond the hills, which for eighteen or twen ty miles form the Eastern division of Vermont in this quarter, as- 348 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. cends the Green Mountain range ; an immense chain of magnifi cent elevations, gradually receding from the sight. Among these the mountain in Stratton, and Killington Peak are distinguished for their sublimity. After we had ascended these hills, we found the road in the Valley, smooth, and agreeable. Keene is very pleasantly situated on the tongue of land between the two principal branches of the Ashuelot. The Valley, in which it is built, extends, as we were informed, from North to South about forty miles in length. To the eye, in these directions, it is unlimited. The lands in this township are divided into hills, plains, and intervals ; and are rich in all these varieties ; yielding grass, flax, and every species of grain in abundance. Gypsum within a few years has been used on these grounds with a success, exceed ing the most sanguine expectations. The intervals on both branch es of the Ashuelot are extensive ; and undoubtedly allured the first settlers hither at an early and dangerous period. The town is chiefly built on three streets ; the principal one running North and South; the others meeting it, but not crossing it, at right angles. At a little distance from the main street, East ward, runs the Eastern branch of the Ashuelot: the other branch is somewhat more remote. Both are sprightly streams : and, while they furnish seats for various kinds of water- works, add not a little to the cheerful aspect of the surrounding region. The houses were generally neat; but in 1810 I found the town greatly improved by the addition of many new buildings ; several of them in a .very handsome style, and ornamented with elegant appendages. Keene is the shire town of the county of Cheshire. The courts are alternately holden here, and at Charlestown. Both the church, and the court-house, are good buildings, and judiciously placed at the head of the main street. The inhabitants almost all belong to one Presbyterian congregation : a few are Methodists ; and a few are Baptists. As a body, they have the reputation of being in dustrious, orderly, moral, and prosperous. Keene has been long esteemed the prettiest village, as it is un questionably the largest, in the Western parts of New-Hamp- LETTER X. 349 shire. At a subsequent visit, I thought it one of the pleasantest inland towns, which I had seen. I lodged in the house of the Rev. Mr. H. the minister of the place. The spirit of Christianity, so generally and delightfully visible in the houses of almost all Clergymen in this country, and those of very many laymen also, was here rendered peculiarly agreeable by an unusual mixture of openness, simplicity, kind ness, and candour. My reception was in a marked degree hos pitable. The conversation was intelligent, cheerful, and evan gelical ; and the conduct of the whole family a happy exhibition of the christian character. Could licentious men once understand the nature of those emotions, which religion inspires in society, or even in solitude, they would hasten to partake of such a feast, and no longer satiate themselves upon garbage. A part of the evening, accompanied by Mr. H. I spent in visit ing the Rev. Mr. S , the minister of Dublin ; which lies about sixteen miles East of Keene. By many this gentleman would be styled a humourist. He has collected a considerable number of pictures, and other objects of curiosity; every one of which is ei ther itself remarkable for some peculiarity, or connected with something else of the same nature, of which it was the memorial, or the illustration. With a vein of good sense, and considerable attainments in learning, Mr. S. unites, that peculiar cast of think ing, which sees most objects in a light, in which they are rarely, if at all, seen by others. This gives a characteristical novelty to his observations ; and, added to a native and innocent sportive- ness, renders his conversation particularly agreeable. He is es teemed, and deservedly, a very worthy minister ; and is eminent ly distinguished by his beneficence. Possessed of an independent fortune, he communicates the benefits of it very humanely, and liberally, to those around him. Particularly he has given $5,000 to his parishoners, as a perpetual fund for the support of a Con gregational Minister in Dublin. To this town he rides weekly ; preaches on the Sabbath, and at other times occasionally ; and performs all the duties of a clergyman. All this he does for a small salary ; the chief part of which, and not improbably the Vol. II. 45 350 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. whole, he distributes in acts of charity. You will not wonder therefore, that he is greatly respected by the inhabitants of Dub lin. Mr. S. has purchased a house in Keene, for the purpose, as I suspect, of passing his declining days in intelligent and agreeable society. In this respect he bears a distant resemblance to the non-resident clergymen of England; and is the only person in New-England, of whom I ever heard, who approximated so near ly to this character. The settlement of Keene began in 1738. From that time un til the peace of Paris the inhabitants had their full share of In dian incursions. In 1 745 the savages attempted to take by sur prise a small fort erected here for the protection of the inhabit ants. They were however discovered ; and after a skirmish with the garrison thought it prudent to retire. They killed one man, took another, stabbed a woman, and burnt several buildings ; in the ashes of which were found, partially consumed, many bones belonging to their own slain. In consequence of this attack the inhabitants of Keene and Swansey, or, as they were then called, of the Upper and Lower Ashuelot, and of Winchester also, de serted their habitations ; and in 1 747 they were chiefly burnt by the Indians. In the year 1755, when many of them had returned, the savages attacked the fort a second time. Their number was great ; and the onset violent. But Captain Sims their comman der, defended it with such gallantry and perseverence, that, after burning several buildings, killing the cattle, and destroying other property of the inhabitants, they withdrew. This was in June. In July they invaded the town again ; but with little success : and this seems to have been the last incursion, made upon the Ash uelot. Keene was incorporated in 1753; and in 1755 contained 756 inhabitants; in 1790, 1,314; in 1800, 1,645; in 1810, 1,646. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XI. Swansey— Winchester — The Ashuelot— Miller's River and Falls — Montague — Sunderland — Mount Toby — Cave. Dear Sir, On Wednesday, October 13th, we rode through Swansey, Win chester, and Northfield, to the Canal in Montague. We lost our road soon after we began the journey ; and in this manner made the distance about thirty-eight or thirty-nine miles ; although in the direct course which lies along the Ashuelot it is not more than thirty-five. The country is level, and the road generally good. Swansey is in every respect inferiour to Keene ; the soil, the cultivation, the houses, (a good number of which are decent,) and the prospects. The town, situated in the valley of the Ashuelot, where the expansion is about a mile in breadth, and the river bordered by some well appearing intervals, is rather a pretty set tlement ; and the inhabitants are apparently in comfortable cir cumstances. There are, also, along the road many good farmers' houses. Winchester is not materially distinguished from Swansey by any thing, which was visible to us, except that the town, if it may be called such, consists of a much smaller number of houses, and those much better. Several of them exhibited a considerable de gree of taste ; and appeared as if they were the residences of polished people. At Winchester the Ashuelot turns almost at right angles from its general direction to the West. This river rises in the Sunnapee mountains, in Fishersfield ; and running through Washington, Stoddard, the skirts of Westmoreland, Keene, Swansey, Winchester and Hinsdale, empties its waters into those of the Connecticut. Its length is not far from fifty miles. In Swansey, and Winchester, its current is slow ; and its waters are deeply coloured. Swansey contained in 1775,647 inhabitants; in 1790, 1,157; in 1800, 1,271 ; in 1810, 1,400. 352 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. Winchester contained in 1775, 738 inhabitants; in 1790, 1,209 ; in 1800, 1,413; in 1810, 1,478. From Winchester the road ascends the Eastern side of the range of Mount Toby. Both the ascent and the descent are steep and difficult; and the whole passage is disagreeable. On the Western side we were, however, presented with a spacious prospect of the Connecticut Valley, the river flowing through the midst of it, its fine Intervals, and the magnificent mountains, by which the valley is bounded. The ride from Northfield to Miller's river in the border of Montague is very pleasant. The river is in full view throughout a great part of the distance. Immediately beyond it is a chain of elegant Intervals in the township of Gill. From these ascends a gradual, and very beautiful slope to the foot of Deerfield Moun tain, here descending into a succession of hills of a very moderate elevation. Beyond them, in a valley of considerable length, by which the range is intersected, appears a handsome white church in a very picturesque situation. We crossed Miller's river on a bridge formed of a single arch. This stream, originally known by the name of Payquage, is one of the seven principal tributary streams of the Connecticut from the East. Its chief source is Monomenoc pond in the town of Rindge, in New-Hampshire. Hence it runs a South- Western course about thirty-five miles through the North- Western part of the county of Worcester, and the North-Eastern of the county of Hampshire, until it joins the Connecticut in the borders of Montague and Northfield. Imme diately below the bridge is a fall, furnishing excellent mill-seats, which are occupied by several mills. These are uniformly sup plied with an abundance of water, and wear the aspect of great activity, and business, particularly in the sawing of timber. Almost immediately below the bridge, the road to the canal turns to the West through a forested pine plain ; and proceeds in this direction about four miles : the distance, to which the Con necticut bends Westward in this quarter. We arrived at the place of our destination in the beginning of the evening, and found very indifferent accommodations. LETTER XI. 353 The next morning we mounted our horses, and rode to Miller's Falls, about two miles higher up the river. These falls consist of two shelves ; and a succession of rocks, commencing above the Northern shelf, extending below the Southern, and spreading through the interval between them. The whole bed is about eight miles in length ; and is formed by the base of Deerfield mountain, which throughout this distance spreads across the riv er. The whole descent is sixty -two feet ; and that at the princi pal fall fourteen. Here is erected a dam, seventeen feet in height, and nine hundred and seventy-two in length, built from the East ern bank to the island, which is four rods in extent; and from the island to the Western bank. The Western direction of the river ceases, a little below the dam, where it turns again to the South ; and after passing Greenfield bridge, a little more than two miles from the dam, bends again towards the East ; and continues this direction till it reaches the general line of its current. Just above the dam begins a canal, which is two miles and seven furlongs in length, and about twenty feet in breadth. It contains nine locks. The first, after the guard-lock, has a de scent of six feet ; the other seven, of eight feet, each. These works were projected with sanguine hopes, and execu ted with great expense ; but they have failed in a considerable measure of their intended effect. The dam was originally leaky; and cannot without great difficulty be thoroughly repaired. Hence, when the river is low, there is not sufficient water to fill the canal, and enable the boats to proceed. Besides, the dam is not high enough to cover with the back-water all the rapids above, nor sufficiently to slacken the current for the convenient passage of boats up the stream. The proprietors have, therefore, been obliged to build a second dam on the Northern shelf, about four miles higher up ; which is also passed by a canal, with locks. This I did not see ; and therefore cannot describe. The disap pointment attending these works, and those at South-Hadley, has been a serious misfortune to the proprietors, and a source of not a little regret to the community.* * I am informed, that all the defects, mentioned in the paragraph above, have been remedied. 354 JOURNEY f 0 THE CANADA LINE. The pointof land, which fills up this arch of the river, became, soon after the erection of these works, a subject of speculation. A considerable piece of ground was bought here, laid out into house-lots, and destined to be the site of a considerable town. A few buildings were erected ; and a few others begun, never to be finished. Happily the bubble broke almost as soon as it was blown ; as a number of half-built, and already ruinous edifices testify. I was informed, that sanguine hopes were entertained of establishing here on a considerable scale both trade and manufac tures. I should almost as soon have expected to see such estab lishments upon the beach, which borders the South shore of Long-Island. The soil is barren ; the region solitary and deso late ; and not a motive, either natural or adventitious, can be found within the limits of the horizon, to encourage adventure, or awaken expectation. After having surveyed these works, we returned directly back to our road ; and, passing through the limits of Montague, left it again to proceed to Shutesbury. The township of Montague is naturally divided into the moun tain : a part of the Mount Toby range on the East ; a slope at its base, about two miles in breadth, and tolerably good land ; and an extensive yellow pine-plain on the West, covered with a lean, miserable soil. It is distributed, so far as it is cultivated at "all, into plantations. Montague includes a considerable Congregation ; and, in 1 790. contained 150 houses, and 906 inhabitants. In 1800, the num ber amounted to 1,222; and, in 1810, to 934. Immediately South of Montague lies Sunderland ; a township, formed of a tract on Mount Toby, (a noble eminence about two miles East of the Connecticut ;) a plain at its foot ; and a consid erable interval, commencing within the town plat, and extending several miles to the South. A part of the last division is good land : most of the rest is ordinary. The agriculture of Sunder land has been much improved within these few years by the use of gypsum. LETTER XI. 355 The town is chiefly built on a single street, running parallel to the river. Its inhabitants are sober, orderly, moral, economical, and moderately industrious. It is improving in its appearance ; but leaves on the mind of a traveller a strong sense of still and sequestered life. Mount Toby is chiefly composed of Breccia, or Pudding-stone. The matrix is a thinly stratified sand-stone of a fine texture, mod erately hard, and stained by iron, from a dull reddish brown to a rusty purple. The strata on the Western side decline towards the East; generally at angles with a horizontal line, varying from twenty to thirty degrees. The plums, or stones, embosomed by the matrix, are exactly of the same kinds, which are found every where in the earth adjacent ; and are siliceous, argillaceous, or sand-stone. All of them are washed, and rounded„like the stones at the bottom of a stream, or on a beach of the ocean. This mountain appears evidently to have undergone a violent shock. A numerous succession of fissures, either descending ob liquely, or approximating to a horizontal direction, are for several miles visible on its sides. These are every where sp posited, and figured, as to impress strongly on the mind a suspicion, that the mountain at some remote period settled down with a declension towards the North ; and rent asunder in an infinite multitude of places the texture, which bound its several parts together. As you proceed from the town toward the North a few miles, there are seen, at the base, collections of rocks, lying in the most abso lute confusion ; as if shaken down from the side, or summit, by the convulsion, which dislocated the whole mass. About four miles North of the town, there are still more strik ing proofs of such a convulsion. Here, on the ridge of the moun tain, greatly inferiour, however, to the highest elevation, there is a cave, extending quite through. I visited it in 1 790 ; and will communicate to you the result of my observations. It is entered at the side, about thirty feet above the bottom. On the West the opening is barely wide enough to admit a large man without difficulty. Its depth, as I measured it with a cord, is seventy feet ; the length, as measured by my steps, one hun- 356 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. dred and ninety-eight, or twelve rods. The breadth, which is greatest at the bottom, is, as I judged, from two feet to twenty. It is formed by two vast rocks, which seem to have been original ly united, and were probably separated by the shock, mentioned above. At the top we found a small aperture, about two feet wide, and about four long, formed by the washing away of the earth at the uppermost part of the rift, and here customarily called the window. By the same cause it will prohably be increased in length hereafter. This chasm gives not the least perceptible light at the bottom of the cavern ; nor would its existence be mistrusted, unless by a person looking upward from the spot, which is perpendicularly beneath. After we had entered, the darkness, except a few feet around our torch, was perfect ; and seemed as if it might be palpable. A silence, profound and drear, was interrupted only by the falling of drops of water from the sides of the cavern. These, derived from the condensation of vapour on the sides, descended as often as once in a second ; and by the distinctness, with which they were heard, enhanced the idea of absolute silence beyond any conception, which I had before entertained. The gloom at the same time unchangeable, imagined not unnaturally to be eternal, and dimly illumined by the glare of the torch ; the astonishing power, indicated by this rent of the mountain ; and the wild and ragged appearance of the cavern ; awakened in my own mind un- mingled solemnity, and awe. We left the cave by passing through the aperture on the East ern side of the ridge ; which is a little larger than that on the Western, and is about the same distance from the bottom. The ascent was easy and convenient. A few feet North is a large rift, here called the Ditch. Its length, as I paced it, is one hundred and thirty feet ; its breadth at the top, ten ; at the bottom three ; and its depth, measured by a cord, forty-five ; but, as there was snow at the bottom, the depth could not be exactly determined. The rock, which forms the Northern side of the cave, is the Southern side of the ditch. The whole combined appearance of LETTER XI. 357 these rents presented to my own mind convincing evidence that the mountain has undergone a violent concussion. When I visited this spot in October, 1806, I found its appear ance materially changed. On the South side the rocks had fall en down in considerable numbers, and opened a new, winding, and disordered passage, or arm, if I may call it such, of the prin cipal cavity, several rods in length. The window, according to conjecture, mentioned above, had become much larger. The earth, and stones, which had fallen from the two ends of the for mer aperture, had considerably raised the floor. In this manner the cavern had become comparatively light ; and the gloomy grandeur, so awful and impressive, had in a great measure van ished. By a late mensuration, it is said the depth of the cave was found to be sixty-five feet, and that of the ditch forty -five. The pudding stone, of which this mountain is so extensively composed, extends to Hinsdale ; near thirty miles. On the North side of a mill-stream, which enters Connecticut river in North- field, I found a mass of this stone in a state of decomposition. A considerable part of it had already become earth. Other parts were so friable, as to be easily pulverized between the fingers. Others still were harder, in successive degrees, until they reach ed a perfect slate of induration. The stones, imbedded in this matrix, are of^ every rounded form, very various in their colours, and of every size from a tenth of an inch to a foot. Out of the softer parts of the matrix I took without any difficulty several small stones ; each of which left a smooth mould, exactly of its own form ; proving that the matrix was a mere enclosure, and never united to it by any sensible cohesion. Sunderland includes a single congregation. In the year 1 790, the number of its dwelling-houses was 73, and of its inhabitants 462. In 1800, the number of houses was 74, and of inhabitants 537. In 1810, the number of inhabitants was 551. I am, Sir, yours, &c. Vol. II. 46 LETTER XII. Shutesbury — Ephraim Pratt — Amherst — Judge Strong. Dear Sir, In our journey to Shutesbury we rode through a country, rough, lean, and solitary ; lying principally on the range of Mount Toby, and the hills, which connect it with that of the White Mountains. The inhabitants were few, and thinly scattered. Generally, also, they were in poor circumstances, and without any apparent hopes of advancing to better. Their houses were bad in most instances, their inclosures very imperfect, and their cultivation wretched. This tract, before it reaches the borders of Shutesbury, may lie partly in Montague, partly in Sunderland, and partly in Leverett. The object of our journey to Shutesbury was to see a man, named Ephraim Pratt, very far advanced in age. The distance is ten miles. We arrived late in the afternoon, and found the ob ject of our curiosity. He was born at Sudbury (Massachusetts) in 1687 ; and in one month from the date of our arrival (Wednesday November 13th) would complete his one hundred and sixteenth year,, He was of middle stature ; firmly built ; plump, but not encumbered with flesh ; less withered than multitudes at seventy ; possessed of considerable strength, as was evident from the grasp of his hand, and the sound of his voice ; and without any marks of extreme age. About two months before, his sight became so impaired, that he was unable to distinguish persons. His hearing, also, for a short time had been so imperfect, that he could not distinctly hear common conversation. His memory was still vigorous ; his understanding sound ; and his mind sprightly in its conceptions. The principal part of the time, which I was in the house, he held me by the hand ; cheerfully answered all my questions ; readily gave me an account of himself in such particulars, as I wished to know ; observed to me, that my voice indicated, that I LETTER XII. 359 was not less than forty-five years of age ; and that he must appear very old to me : adding however, that some men, who had not passed their seventieth year, probably looked almost, or quite, as old as himself. The remark was certainly just ; but it was the first time, that I had heard persons, who had reached the age of seventy, considered as being young. We were informed partly by himself, and partly by his host, that he had been a laborious man all his life ; and particularly, that he had mown grass one hundred and one years successively. The preceding summer he had been unable to perform this labour. During this season his utmost effort was a walk of half a mile. In this walk he stumbled over a log, and fell. Immediately afterwards he began evidently to decline ; and lost in a considerable degree both his sight and hearing. In the summer of 1 802, he walked without inconven ience two miles ; and mowed a small quantity of grass. Throughout his life he had been uniformly temperate. Ardent spirits he rarely tasted : cider he drank at times, but sparingly. In the vigorous periods of life he had accustomed himself to eat flesh, but much more abstemiously than most other persons in this country. Milk, which had always been a great part, was now the whole of his diet. He is naturally cheerful, and humor ous ; apparently unsusceptible of tender emotions ; and not much inclined to serious thinking. According to an account, which he gave his host, he made a public profession of religion near seven ty years before our visit to him ; but was not supposed by him, nor by others acquainted with him, to be a religious man. He conversed easily ; and was plainly gratified with the visits, and conversation, of strangers. When he was ninety-three years old, he made a bargain with his host, (who told us the story,) that he should support him during the remainder of his life for £20. He was never sick but once ; and then with the fever and ague. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that a man one hundred and sixteen years old, without Religion, was a melancholy sight to me. Three or four years before this time I saw in a newspaper an advertisement, written by a person, who professed, and appeared, to be acquainted with him, and his concerns, in which it was said, 3G0 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. that his descendants, some of whom were of the fifth generation, amounted probably to more than 1 ,500. Shutesbury lies on the Western side of the Lyme range. The surface is not very uneven, but encumbered with rocks and stones. The soil, so far as we had opportunities to see it, is' moist, and of an indifferent quality. The houses on our road were poor, and the cultivation, bad. We passed through the skirts of the town ship. In the centre, we were told, every thing wore a better ap pearance. In 1790 Shutesbury contained 117 houses, and 674 inhabitants. In 1800 the number of inhabitants was 930 ; and in 1810, 939. We rode from Shutesbury to Amherst in the evening ; and had therefore a very imperfect opportunity of surveying the country. So far as I was able to examine it before the darkness came on, which was about half the distance, it grew continually better in surface, soil, and appearance. The next morning we ascended the tower of the church, to take a view of the third great expansion in the valley of the Con necticut. The position is a very eligible one for this purpose ; commanding a great multitude of the fine objects, which are visi ble from the summit of Mount Holyoke. That part of the ex pansion, which is South of Sugar-loaf, assumes here the form of a regular, elliptical amphitheatre. On the North-East it is bound ed by the mountains of Pelham, high elevations in the Lyme range ; and on the South- West by Pomeroy's mountain ; a stri king eminence on the Western ridge of the Green Mountain range. This amphitheatre is about twenty-four miles in length, and about fifteen in breadth. The mountains, by which it is en circled, and the varieties of scenery, with which its area is filled up, form one of the most impressive and delightful objects, which can be found in this country. In this fine collection of scenery the township of Amherst holds no inferiour place. A handsomer piece of ground, composed of hills and vallies, is rarely seen ; more elegant slopes, never. The lines, by which they are limited, are formed by an exquisite hand, and with an ease and grace, which art cannot surpass. An agreeable LETTER XII. 361 view of this configuration of elegant surface is taken from the great road, which crosses the Southern border of the township, under Mount Holyoke. The soil, is uncommonly rich ; and pro duces every thing, which will grow in this climate. The agricul ture also is good: and the inhabitants, as a body, are in easy cir cumstances. Their houses are good farmers' habitations. In the year 1790, Amherst, which consists of two parishes, contained 176 dwelling-houses, and 1,233 inhabitants; and in 1800 the number of inhabitants was 1,358 ; and in 1810, 1,469. In Amherst lived the Honourable Simeon Strong, one of the Judges of the Supreme Judicial Court in Massachusetts. This gentleman was born in Northampton, in 1735, of respectable and virtuous parents. He was educated at Yale College ; where he took the degree of A. B. in 1756. As a scholar he was distin guished both for learning and science ; and for his acquaintance with the Greek and Latin languages obtained the Berkleian pre mium. In early life he devoted himself to the preaching of the Gospel; and pursued the employment several years with much rep utation. Pulmonary affections, however forced him to relinquish it ; and induced him to turn his attention to the study of law. In this , profession he was educated by the Hon. John Worthington of Springfield, respectfully mentioned in a former part of these let ters. At the bar he rose deservedly to the first rank of advocates; and might be said with truth for many years to be engaged in al most every important cause in his native county, and in many in those of Worcester, and Berkshire. His knowledge of law was profound and comprehensive ; his discernment remarkably ac tive ; and his reasoning faculties eminently vigorous. He was a metaphysician by nature ; possessing the peculiar discrimination, attached to that name ; yet he possessed such a fund of common sense, as effectually prevented him from pursuing the wiredrawn subtilties so generally relished, and adopted by men, who have worn this name. In Mr. Strong, metaphysical genius was directed to no other end, than the advancement of useful purposes ; and was employ ed, only as an auxiliary in rendering his ratiocination acute, exact, 362 JOURNEY TO THE CANADA LINE. and conclusive. Few men had higher powers of this description; and few, who have had them in the same degree, have used them with the same wisdom. His imagination, also, was vigorous and brilliant. His wit, al ways ready, and occasionally scarcely less decisive than his rea soning, with respect to the objects, which it was intended to ac complish, was employed only for such purposes, as were dictated by benevolence, and approved by a sound understanding. Prob ably no instance can be remembered, in which he ever uttered a sentence, to display himself, or unnessarily to give pain to others. Whatever he had occasion to investigate he studied thoroughly. I have observed, that he was a profound lawyer ; his favourite science however, was Theology. In the knowledge of this sci ence he was excelled by few men. He loved the bible, and stu died it intensely through his life. The doctrines, which he held, were those of the Reformers ; and these he held with great firm ness, but with great candour, without bigotry, with a distinguish ed spirit of moderation, and with a modesty not less distinguished. No man could converse with him to any extent on religious sub jects without improvement. Several years he was a member of the Legislature as a repre sentative, and afterwards as a senator. In the year 1800, he was appointed one of the Judges of the Supreme Judicial Court, and continued in this office till his death. The University at Cam bridge conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Laws, in the year 1805. The Moral character of Judge Strong was of the first class. I was long and intimately acquainted with him, and with multitudes of those, who lived around him. I know not, that an unwise or censurable thing has been laid to his charge. He seems to have determined on nothing, and td have done nothing, which he had not well considered, and which he had not brought for trial to the Evangelical standard of rectitude. His "wisdom dwelt with prudence:" and, although as a man he undoubtedly had his er rors, and his faults, yet they seem to have escaped the public eye. LETTER XII. 363 On his integrity, all who knew him, relied without a suspicion. His sense of the importance of truth, justice and benevolence, was controuling ; and his exhibition of these virtues in his life was such, as acquired him the highest esteem. Nor was his pie ty less uniform, or less undoubted. In the various relations of private life he shone with a mild and delightful lustre ; and its offices he performed with a cheerfulness, regularity and amiableness, which it is difficult directly to de scribe, or sufficiently to praise. His manners were an unusual mixture of gravity and cheerful ness, of simplicity and propriety, of modesty and dignity. To me, and I presume to all his acquaintance, they were uncommon ly agreeable ; less polished and graceful than those of men, in the fashionable sense, well bred ; but much more agreeable than the manners of most such men ; such as did not exhibit the polished citizen, but such as presented an intelligent being with high ad vantage. Judge Strong died December 14th 1805, in the 70th year of his age. The religion, which he had professed, and lived, so long, gilded his exit with the calm sunshine of a summer evening. The character of this gentleman has been drawn with great fe licity by a masterly hand in the Panoplist for March 1812. In the concluding paragraph the writer says, " The judicious reader will doubtless be of the opinion, that the subject of the preceding notice is justly to be ranked among the worthies, whose useful attainments, and disinterested virtue, will long shed a lustre on the page of our history. " Happy the man," he will exclaim, "who devotes a long and prosperous life to the service of God, and the good of mankind. Happy the people who have the wisdom to choose such men to be their rulers." On Friday, the 1 4th we rode to Hadley, and on Monday pro ceeded towards New-Haven ; where we arrived the Wednesday following. I am, Sir, yours, &c. JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. LETTER I. Woodbridge— Salem— Waterbury— Waterlown-Litchaeld— The Late GoVernour Wolcott — Goshen — Cornwall — Canaan— Sheffield — Taghkannuc Mountain— Great-Barrington— Monument Mountain— Stockbridge— Rev. John Sargeant— Mohekaneew or Stockbridge Indians — Tradition concerning their origin &c. — Lenox — Pittsfield — Lanesborough — New-Ashford. Dear Sir, Monday, September 16th, 1798, I set out on a journey to Ver- gennes, in company with a young gentleman ; and rode to Wa terbury : twenty-three miles. The road, which passes through the township of Woodbridge, and through Salem, the Southern parish of Waterbury, was for the first seventeen miles a turnpike road ; laid over a rough country with unusual skill and judgment. It is not incommoded by a single disagreeable ascent, or descent. West-Rock, formerly mentioned, a narrow valley beneath it, and a collection of hills still further West, form the township of Woodbridge. The soil is generally good grazing land, and some of it excellent. It is wholly composed of farms ; the proprietors of which, are, generally, in easy, thriving circumstances, and some of them wealthy. The people are industrious, sober; and generally harmonious, peaceful, and orderly. This township contains excellent slate in abundance. Limestone also, and coal, have been discovered here in small quantities. Coal is be lieved to abound. Woodbridge contained, in 1790, 2,124 inhabitants; in 1800, 2,198; and, in 1810, 2,030. Salem lies on Naugatuck river. This stream rises in Norfolk, near the Northern boundary of the State ; and, passing through Winchester, Torrington, Harwinton, Plymouth, Waterbury, Ox- Vol. II. 47 366 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. ford, and Derby, joins the Hooestennuc near the Southern limit of that township. Its length is not far from sixty miles. The lands in Salem, except a chain of intervals along the Naugatuck, of no great extent, are moderately good. The hills are high, and, what is uncommon in New-England, are dry also. The scenery along the river is romantic. Thirteen miles from New-Haven the hills, bordering the valley of the Naugatuck on the East, separate suddenly, and form a gap of a width just sufficient to allow a passage for the road, and for a lively brook, which murmuring for a considerable distance by its side, enlivens the wild and gloomy scenery. But for this chasm a practicable passage could scarcely be made from Salem to New-Haven. The houses in this parish are moderately good. The inhabit ants have long suffered in their morals and their peace, from un happy divisions. From Salem to Waterbury our road lay along the Naugatuck ; and was sufficiently level, but stony, and disagreeable. A new one has been since made in the turnpike manner, from the Litch field road, in Salem, to the North line of the State ; which, pas sing through Waterbury, runs along the banks of the Naugatuck, almost to its source. This road is said to be a good one. Waterbury is a pleasant town, built chiefly on a single street. Its site is a plain, which borders the intervals on this river, and extends to the foot of a range of hills on the East. The expan sion here is about two miles wide ; and the intervals about one fourth of a mile. These grounds were the real cause of the set tlement of this town. In the year 1673, some persons in Far mington petitioned the Legislature, that a Committee might be appointed to examine the country about Mattatuck ; the Abori ginal name of this spot. The Committee was appointed ; and the members of it are praised by the State records, as having with great courage and fortitude surmounted the hazards, and difficul ties, attendant upon their journey. The grave manner, in which this subject is mentioned by so solemn a body as a Legislature, would naturally lead one to suppose, that the Commissioners LETTER XII. 367 were sent upon a very arduous enterprise. The distance from Farmington to Waterbury is not more than fifteen miles : and the intervening country, though partially mountainous, presents no gigantic difficulties in the way of such an expedition. As the Commissioners went voluntarily, it is rationally supposed, that no serious troubles were expected from the savages. Yet, for rea sons which perhaps cannot now be divined, the expedition was by the Legislature esteemed difficult, and dangerous ; and the ac complishment of it deserving of honourable mention. The Commissioners made a report in 1674 ; in which they sta ted, that there was land enough in Mattatuck to support about thirty families. By land they obviously meant intervals : the only division of the surface, which our ancestors considered as deserv ing of this title. The Commissioners therefore supposed that on these intervals only thirty families could live. Their examina tion however must have been very imperfect ; for the intervals in the original township of Waterbury would support several times this number. Within that township, which included Watertown and Plymouth, there were, in 1800, near 7,000 inhabitants. The planters first seated themselves on the Western side of the river, but, perceiving the freshets frequently to rise so high, as to render it impassible, they rationally concluded, that the situation was unsafe : for if the Indians should attack them during the time of a flood, they would be able neither to obtain assistance, nor to secure a retreat. They therefore removed to this spot : on all other accounts more desirable than the former. The town is generally decently built ; and contains several neat houses, and two well-appearing churches : a Presbyterian, and an Episcopal. A few years since, an academy was erected there ; but it is now visibly decaying. The morals of this town are not on a high scale.* Beside the usual evils of political division, litigation has, for a long time, spread a malignant influence over the people of Waterbury. Its well known effects have been extensively suffered here ; and will in all probability be unhappily realized to an indefinitely future period. •1798. 368 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. Several manufactures have been carried on in this town with spirit and success; particularly that of clocks, principally formed of a particular species of wood. These are considered as keep ing time with nearly as much regularity, as those which are made of the customary materials. They also last long : and being sold at a very moderate price, are spread over a prodigious extent of country, to the great convenience of a vast number of people, who would otherwise have no means of regulating correctly their various business. Gilt buttons also have been made here in con siderably quantities ; not inferiour in strength and beauty to those which are imported.* In several townships, in the Western parts of this State, are scattered a number of families, whose names declare them to be of Scottish extraction. I have long wished to learn when, and by what means, these families were thus interspersed among the English Colonists. Waterbury was settled in 1685; and included, at the date of this journey, the parishes of Middlebury, Salem, and a part of Columbia. The number of the inhabitants was, in 1756, 1,802; in 1774, 3,536; blacks 38; Plymouth and Watertown included. In 1790, exclusive of Watertown and Plymouth, Waterbury con tained 2,937; in 1800, 3,256; and, in 1810, 2,874. At the period last mentioned, Middlebury having been incor porated as a township, is not included. The number of the in habitants of Middlebury, at this time was 847. In these several parishes there are four Presbyterian, and two Episcopal, Congre gations : one of the latter a plurality. Tuesday, September 18th, we rode from Waterbury to Litch field : sixteen miles. The road for the first five miles is rough; the remainder is the turnpike first mentioned above. Watertown is a township of rich land, and an uneven surface ; pleasant ; and every where spotted with beautiful groves. For a mile below the town, and some distance above it, extends an el egant chain of rich meadows, bordering the sides of a sprightly * Since this was written, several other manufactures have been established in Waterbury. — Pub. LETTER 1. 369 stream. Even in this season of drought, these fine lands were vivid with a beautiful green. On a rising ground upon their Western border stands the town; containing two churches and a number of very decent houses. One of the Congregations is Presbyterian, the other Episcopal. The soil of this township is a reddish brown loam, and suited to every production of the climate. In 1790, its inhabitants amounted to 3,170; (Plymouth inclu ded ;) in 1800, to 1,615; in 1810, to 1714. In 1800, Plymouth contained 1,791 ; in 1810, 1,882. Immediately above Watertown lies South-Farms ; the South ern parish of Litchfield. This parish is principally a collection of hills, which are high, moist, and excellent grazing ground. The surface is pleasant ; the houses good farmers' dwellings ; of which a little village is formed around the church. The inhabit ants are industrious, and thrifty ; and distinguished for good mor als, good order, and decency of deportment. A flourishing Academy has been raised up, here, almost solely by the efforts of James Morris Esq. who is at once its founder and preceptor. This gentleman, soon after he had finished his educa tion at Yale College, became an officer in the American army, in which he continued throughout the Revolutionary war. After the peace, his parents, and his patrimony, being in this place, he was induced to establish himself here for life. At his return he found the inhabitants less enlightened, and less refined than those of many other parts of the State. What in this country is per haps singular, they regarded him, both as a man liberally educa ted, and as an officer, with suspicion, and alienation. At the same time he perceived, with not a little mortification, that they were in many instances ignorant, and vicious. As he had been absent from his early youth ; his influence among them was to be created. With a disposition, which scarcely can be enough com mended, he determined to commence in form the work of a gene ral reformation. After various experiments, sufficiently discour aging, among those who were arrived at middle age, he turned his attention to their children ; and hoped by communicating to 370 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. them the advantages of a well-directed education to furnish their minds with both knowledge and virtue, and thus to transform their character into amiableness and worth. For this benevolent purpose was founded the institution which, I have mentioned. In this Academy it has from the first been the commanding ob ject to inculcate the best principles of morality and religion, and to require of the students an unexceptionable deportment. The youths of both sexes, usually assembled here from various parts of the country, are in number from forty to seventy. Mr. Morris * has had the satisfaction of seeing his expectations more than verified. Not only were the benefits of his design re alized by the inhabitants of South-Farms, but they were spread also through most parts of the County, and extensively through this and the neighbouring States, This is one, among the proofs furnished by experience, of the power, possessed by an individu al, of spreading around him, when happily disposed, the best blessings of society. Litchfield is a handsome town ; situated on an easy, beautiful slope, scarcely declining from North to South, and descending a little more rapidly to the East and to the West. It is chiefly built on two streets, crossing each other in the centre at right- angles. The houses are well built ; and the Court house is hand somer than any other in the State. There are two Congregations, a Presbyterian, and an Episcopal. The latter has three churches ; one, standing in the centre of the town, a decent building, but unfinished ; the second, about a mile Westward, a pretty building ; the third, still farther West, old and ill repaired. It is probable, that the Congregation will find this train of churches an unpleasant encumbrance ; particu larly as they were not harmonious in the business of erecting the two, which have been last set up. The aspect of the country around Litchfield, as seen from the town, or, as it is frequently called, the Hill, is uncommonly hand some ; consisting of open extensive vallies, hills gracefully arch ed, rich hollows, and groves formed of lofty trees, interspersed * This exceUent man died in 1820. — Pub. LETTER I. 37I every where at the most pleasing distances. Towards the South- West, especially, are these beauties concentrated upon the sides, and in the bosom, of a spacious valley ; which presents itself in the fairest view, together with a collection of good farmers' hou ses, luxuriant fields, and flourishing orchards. This valley is or namented with two pieces of water. One of them, commencing about three miles from the Hill, and spreading itself three miles farther in a South- Western direction, winds from the eye, so as to resemble the noble meanders of a great river. In the back ground of the landscape ascends Mount Tom ; a conical emi nence, overlooking all this elevated country, and rising, as is supposed, about one thousand five hundred feet above the level of the ocean. A respectable female Academy has for many years been estab lished here, under the superintendence of Miss Pierce. In this school a great number of students both from Connecticut and the neighbouring States have been taught the, knowledge, and accom plishments, furnished by similar institutions. Litchfield is distinguished for the intelligence of many of its in habitants, of both sexes : and few towns in Connecticut have seen more of their citizens employed in honourable public offices. Among these gentlemen, His Excellency Oliver Wolcott, de serves to be particularly mentioned. This very respectable man was born in Windsor, in the year 1727; and was the youngest son of the Hon. Roger Wolcott, formerly Governor of the Colony of Connecticut. He was graduated at Yale College in 1747. Soon after his education was finished, he became an officer in the mili tary service, against the French in Canada. After retiring from the service, he began the study of physic ; but quitted it in con sequence of being appointed High Sheriffof the County of Litch field. When he gave up that office, he was appointed Chief Judge of the Court of Common Pleas. For many years he was a Member of the Council, and afterwards of the original Ameri can Congress ; where, in 1776, he strenuously urged the Decla ration of Independence. Afterwards, as a Major General, he commanded a body of levies in the Revolutionary war. In 1786, 372 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. he was chosen Lieutenant Governour, and, in 1796, Governour, of Connecticut. He died, December 1st, 1797, in the 72d year of his age. With this gentleman I was familiarly acquainted. He was remarkably distinguished for intrepidity, firmness, incorrupti ble integrity, strong, bold conceptions, and a peculiar decision of character. At the same time, his sensibility was quick, and ex quisite. The sight, or even the narration, of a mean, a dishon est, or an ungenerous, action, appeared to give him a chill, and changed his countenance. The emotions, which these things ex cited in his mind, he could not conceal; and at times he express ed them in terms singularly forcible and vivid. Towards every thing of this nature, he not only exercised the reprobation of of fended virtue, but felt the disgust of wounded delicacy, and that instinctive abhorrence, with which a generous mind shudders at the approach of what is base and pitiful. So far as a life unim peachable, and fraught with benevolence and sincerity ; so far as sound and superiour wisdom ; so far as a disposition always to oblige, and manners in an eminent degree gentlemanly : could recommend a man to the public, Governour Wolcott was popular. Yet his character, and conduct, furnished more themes of dec lamation, and obloquy, to those, who were willing to be his ene mies, than the conduct of men, whose feelings are more blunt, and more easily concealed. His public and private life was un exceptionable. In his conduct he was not only upright, but emi nently prudent. He could not yield to popular impulses, even in cases, where he might have yielded without wounding his con science, or committing his principles. In the vicinity lived some artful and mischievous men. These, to promote their own sinis ter designs, not only picked up those facts, and observations, which they thought might injure his reputation in the State, and distorted them in such a manner, as to promote their own purposes ; but fastened upon his character such others, invented by themselves, as they hoped, and sometimes found, would gain credit with the pop ulace, from the unbending, open firmness of his life. Their suc cesses were however limited, and pitiful. By the wise and good men in his own country, Governour Wolcott was held in unsha- LETTER I. 373 ken and most honourable estimation. Accordingly he was rais ed to every office of distinction, which it was in their power to confer, and died in the highest seat of magistracy. For a great number of years. he was a professor of the Christian religion : and his life adorned his profession. For several days before his departure, says the Rev. Dr. Backus, in a sermon preached at the funeral of this excellent man, " Every breath seemed to bring with it a prayer ; till at last he fell asleep." In Litchfield there is established an excellent Law school. This institution was formed many years since, and has been hith erto superintended, by the Hon. Tapping Reeve, one of the Judg es of the Supreme Court of Connecticut. A regular system of lectures, and other instructions, are here given by this gentleman, and by James Gould, Esq. Counsellour at law in this town. The students are also employed in discussions of law questions, and in arguing cases. The number of students is about forty. Litchfield includes four parishes, and five Congregations ; the two, which have been already mentioned, and the Congregations of South Farms, Milton, and Northfield. In 1 756, this township contained 1 ,366 inhabitants ; in 1774, 1,554: 45 blacks; in 1800, 4,287, and in 1810, 4,639.* In the afternoon we proceeded to Goshen ; the township im mediately North of Litchfield. The road was stony and bad : the distance seven miles. A turnpike road has been since made which has reduced the distance to six miles, and rendered the travelling pleasant. The next day we proceeded to Canaan. The afternoon was intensely hot, and much more uncomfortable on account of copious exhalations from the surface, produced by a heavy rain, which fell during the former part of the day. Goshen, like Litchfield, is situated on the Green Mountain Range. The elevation is lofty ; probably little less than one thousand feet above the surface of the ocean. The aspect of the township is much less beautiful than that of Litchfield, and * Litchfield is remarkably distinguished for salubrity of climate. I am informed that no fever has ever prevailed in it to any great extent although it has been set tled ninety-five years. Vol. IT. 48 374 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. yet in many places is handsome; being formed of easy slopes, and open vallies. It is, perhaps, the best grazing ground in the State : and the inhabitants are probably more wealthy, than any other collection of farmers in New-England, equally numerous. The quantity of cheese, made by them annually, is estimated at four hundred thousand pounds weight. Butter is also made in great quantities. The houses are good farmers' houses. There are a few in a superiour style. The inhabitants are distinguished for industry, sobriety, good order, and good morals. Goshen includes only one Congregation. In 1756, it contain ed 610 inhabitants ; in 1774, 1,111 : blacks 13 ; in 1800, 1,493; and, in 1810, 1,641. The wealth of Goshen is one proof of the superiority of grazing ground to that, which is devoted to tillage. Below Litchfield the forests are universally oak, hickory, &c. In Goshen they are composed of maple, beach, hemlock, &e. The first white pines which we saw on this road, were in Go shen. The granite country in New-England, reaches, I believe, eve ry where to the Western ridge of the Green Mountains. I have crossed them in a variety of places; and have travelled along their Western border, almost throughout their whole length. Wherev er I have had opportunity to observe them, this is the fact. There is, indeed, almost every where a numerous interspersion of stones, and rocks, of various kinds ; but granite predominates. It is usu ally"^ light grey. I have seen it white ; striped with red ; and in some instances of a contexture so well compacted, as to admit of a good polish. From this line, almost a meridional one, the limestone country commences ; and continues as far West at least as Lake Erie : not, however without some considerable interrup tions by slate, and some, even by granite. On the Western sum mit of these mountains, in Goshen, the limestone is mixed ; at the bottom, it is white and pure. Goshen is remarkable beyond any other town in the State, ex cept perhaps Norfolk and Colebrook, for frequent and copious falls of snow. The distance from Litchfield is but six miles ; and LETTER I. 375 the increase of elevation very small. Yet snow falls not unfre quently in Goshen, when it rains in Litchfield. On the 10th of October, 1804, it fell here twelve inches deep : while at Batavia, in the County of.Genesee, and State of New-York, where I then was, it did not whiten the ground at all. Yet Batavia is not far from sixty miles Northward of Goshen. Snow is also deeper here, and continues longer, than in most other places under the same parallel. Cornwall, through a skirt of which we passed when we left Go shen, is generally considered as the roughest township in the State : being made up of mountains of considerable height, and their intervening vallies. Through one of these vallies our road descended from Goshen. It is formed by a deep indent in this range ; into which we descended rapidly for the first two miles, and gradually several more. At the head of the valley we look ed through a long and magnificent vista, terminated by two prom ontories, which abut upon it with a bold precipitous grandeur, in to an expansion on the Hooestennuc, comprehending a part of the townships of Salisbury, Canaan, Sheffield, Mount Washing ton, and Egremont. This interesting prospect was limited by Taghkonnuc on the North-West ; the loftiest eminence but one, in the State of Massachusetts. The valley is every where ro mantic. A sprightly brook murmurs at the bottom, which is speedily swollen into a mill-stream. Several groves of white pine rise upon its borders. Cornwall has a drier and warmer soil than Goshen ; and yields wheat plentifully. It contains two congregations. The number of its inhabitants, in 1756, was 500 ; in 1774, 977 : ten of them blacks, and seven of them Indians ; in 1800, 1,614 ; and, in 1810, 1,641. Canaan, like Cornwall, has a very irregular surface : being partly composed of an extensive plain ; partly of intervals, bor dering the Hooestennuc, and two of its tributaries ; and partly of hills, mountains, and vallies. The soil, taken together, is not above mediocrity. It yields wheat, when sufficiently rich, abun dantly. On the plain, peach trees fail ; and the reason assigned 376 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. is, that the soil, being warm, causes them to shoot too early in the spring. Hence late frosts destroy not only the fruit, but the tree also. The principal, and original street, lies on the Western side of the plain, along the foot of a ragged hill ; in which an Italian, who resided here some time since, found, as he informed the Rev. Mr. Farrand, marble, as fine, and beautiful, as the handsome spe cimens of his own country. The houses on the street are few, scattered, and indifferent. Ih it stands a decayed church, with out a steeple, belonging to the South parish. There is a furnace in Canaan, and several anchor forges. The irOn, cast and manufactured in these works, is principally brought from Salisbury and Kent. Samuel Forbes, Esq. the proprietor of the most considerable of them, has, chiefly by this business, be come one of the wealthiest men in the State. There are two parishes in Canaan, called the North, and the ' South, parishes. The churches in both are ordinary ; and the general appearance of the town not indicative of any peculiar de gree of prosperity. The scenery is in several places noble. In 1756, Canaan contained 1,100 inhabitants ; in 1774, 1,635 : blacks 62 ; in 1 800, 2,037 : free blacks 59 ; slaves 4 ; and, in 1810, 2,203. We left Canaan Thursday morning, September 20th, and rode to Stockbridge, through the North parish of Canaan, and the towns of Sheffield, and Great Barrington : twenty-five miles. Sheffield lies on the Southern border of Berkshire ; and is the oldest settlement in that County. It occupies the principal part of the valley between the Green Mountains and Taghkannuc, on both sides of the river ; which is every where bordered by a chain of rich and beautiful intervals. The rest of the valley is here, principally, a light, level ground ; in some places fertile, but gen erally of an indifferent soil. The town is chiefly built on a sin gle street, running about four miles and a half on the Western border of the intervals. On the Southern half the houses are thinly scattered. In the Northern half they are more numerous, and better. Upon the whole, it is rather a pretty settlement. LETTER I. 377 Among the interesting objects, which are in full view, the riv er ahd its beautiful intervals, and the mountains on the East and on the West, hold a place of high distinction. Taghkannuc, clad at this time in misty grandeur, partly embosomed and partly cap ped by clouds, particularly ornaments the landscape. Its height is about three thousand feet above the ocean. Its sides are not precipitous, nor its summits angular ; but it is every where limit ed by lines, which are flowing and graceful. This fact has al ways appeared to me sensibly to diminish its magnificence. Still it is a highly sublime object. In the year 1781, I ascended the loftiest summit of this moun tain ; and found a most extensive, and splendid prospect spread around me. On the North rose Saddle mountain, at the head of the Hooestennuc valley, at the distance of forty miles. At the same distance the Catskill mountains formed, on the West, the boundary of the vast valley of the Hudson. In the South-West rose Butter Hill, the most Northern summit of the Highlands on the Western side of that river, and the majestic front of an im mense range receding gradually from the sight, limited the view, beneath us, towards that quarter of the horizon. The chain of the Green Mountains, on the East, stretched its long succession of summits from North to South a prodigious length ; while over them, at the distance of forty miles, rose the single, solitary point of Mount Tom ; and farther still, at the termination of fifty and sixty miles, ascended successively various eminences in the Lyme Range. Monadnock, at the distance of seventy miles on the North-East, is distinctly discernable in a day sufficiently clear ; but to us, the weather being in a small degree hazy, was invisible. Immediately around us, spread a collection of flourishing settle ments, and finely varied the grandeur with their beauty. On thjs mountain is the North-West corner of the State of Connecticut. Before the Oblong was yielded to New- York, the North-West corner of Connecticut was Westward of this moun tain, about three-fourths of a mile. At this spot is now the South- Western corner of Massachusetts, in latitude 42° 3' 1 5" ; as determined by the Rev. Dr. Ewing, and Dr. Rittenhouse of 378 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. Philadelphia, arid Thomas Hutchins, Esq. Geographer of the United States, July 21st, 1787 ; when the dividing line between Massachusetts and New- York was finally settled. The magnetic variation, as determined by these gentlemen on this spot, the day following, was 5° 3' West. The magnetic variation, as determined by the Rev. Dr. Wil liams, professor of Natural Philosophy in Harvard College, at the same place, and on the same day, was, at seven o'clock, A. M. 4° 51' ; at eleven o'clock, thirty minutes, 5° 55' ; at seven o'clock, P. M. 5°. At the same place these gentlemen also determined that the magnetic variation for fourteen years and two months, commencing May 18th, 1773, and ending July 22d, 1787, had been annually 3' 5". The course of the West line of Massachu setts, as determined by Messrs. Ewing, Rittenhouse, and Hutch ins, July 24th, was North 20° 24' East. These gentlemen were commissioned by Congress to settle this line, at the request of both States. The North line of the Oblong, as observed by Professor Wil liams, September 30th, 1784, varies from an exact Western direc tion 1° 15' N. These facts were communicated to me by the Hon. Timothy Edwards of Stockbridge, one of the Commissioners employed by Massachusetts on the above mentioned occasion. Sheffield was incorporated in the year 1 733 ; six years before any other town in this County, and twenty-two years before the commencement of the last Canadian war. The first settlers were, therefore, exposed to Indian depredations during a considerable period, without any possibility of obtaining timely assistance. They were emigrants from Westfield ; and were allured hither by the fine intervals on the Hooestennuc. The character, which they brought with them, their descendants still keep; and are just about as industrious, as moral, and as propense to improvement as their ancestors. Sheffield has always been subject to the fever and ague ; a ca lamity, to which the slow motion of the Hooestennuc, through its whole breadth, may not improbably contribute. Several marsh- Letter i. 379 es also, within its limits, are supposed to have had a malignant in fluence on the health of the inhabitants. In the year 1795 they attempted to drain two of them ; but did it imperfectly : as a con sequence of which fact, an offensive fetor filled the atmosphere ; the inhabitants were suddenly seized with a malignant bilious fe ver ; and seventy persons died. It is said that the pulmonary consumption is very rare in Shef field. The number of inhabitants in 1790, was 1,899 ; in 1800, 2,050; and, in 1810,2,439. Great-Barrington lies immediately North of Sheffield. It is built on a single street, upon the Western bank of the Hooesten nuc, throughout the breadth of the township ; and throughout half that distance on another street upon the Eastern side of the river. The surface is pleasanter than that of Sheffield. The character of the inhabitants, who had the same origin, is a strong proof of the permanent influence, which education, of any sort, has on the minds of men. It is probable, that there has been more horse-racing in these two towns, than in all the State of Massachusetts beside. The soil of Great-Barrington is excellent ; yet we saw very few marks of thrift, or prosperity. The houses are in many instances decayed ; the Episcopal Church barely de cent ; and the Congregational, ruinous. A small number of houses are exceptions to this account ; particularly on the East ern street ; where the inhabitants are descendants from the Dutch of New- York, and exhibit proofs of industry and wealth. Great-Barrington was originally the shire town of the County of Berkshire. Few places can boast of a better soil, or more de lightful situation ; yet, I suspect, few have been less prosperous, or less happy. Religion has had here, generally, a doubtful ex istence ; and, during the little time, in which they have had a minister of the Gospel, he has scarcely been able to find a sub- sistance. Since these remarks were made, I have passed through Great- Barrington several times ; and have observed with satisfaction, that the people are beginning to exhibit, more generally, proofs 380 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. of industrious exertion. In the year 1 806, in the journey hereto fore referred to, I learned with particular pleasure, that the Pres byterian Congregation had settled a regular and respectable min ister, after a vacancy of thirty-four years. A spirit of improve ment was visibly increasing. A few of the inhabitants of this town are of Dutch extraction ; and exhibit at least equal evidence of the lasting influence, which education extends through succeeding generations of mankind. In the year 1790, the inhabitants of this township were 1,373 ; in 1800, 1,754, inhabiting 264 houses ; and, in 1810, 1,784. The following fact was recited to me, many years since, by a respectable man, as having taken place in this town. I know no reason to question the truth of the recital, except what is furnish ed by the nature of the fact itself. A Mr. Van Rensselaer, a young gentleman from Albany, came one evening into an inn, kept by a Mr. Root, just at the Eastern end of the bridge, which crosses the Hooestennuc in this town. The inn-keeper, who knew him, asked him where he had crossed the river. He answered, "on the bridge." Mr. Root replied, that that was impossible ; because it had been raised that very day ; and that not a plank had been laid on it. Mr. Van Rens selaer said, that this could not be true ; because his horse had come over without any difficulty, or reluctance ; that the night was indeed so profoundly dark, as to prevent him from seeing any thing distinctly ; but that it was incredible, if his horse could see sufficiently well to keep his footing any where, that he should not discern the danger, and impossible for him to pass over a bridge in that condition. Each went to bed dissatisfied : neither believing the story of the other. In the morning Mr. Van Rens selaer went, at the solicitation of his host, to view the bridge ; and, finding it a naked frame, gazed for a moment with astonish ment, and fainted. From Barrington, in our way to Stockbridge, we crossed Mon ument mountain : a spur from the Green Mountain range. The name is derived from a pile of stones, about six or eight feet in di ameter, circular at its base, and raised in the form of an obtuse LETTER I. 3Q1 cone over the grave of one of the aborigines. The manner, in which it has been formed, is the following. Every Indian, who passes by the place, throws a stone upon the tomb of his country man. By this slow method of accumulation, the heap has risen in a long series of years to its present size. The same mode of raising monuments for the dead, except in one particular, has existed among other nations. The Israelites raised a similar monument for Achan; for the king of Ai; and for Absalom. Whether this was done from motives of general respect for the dead, and thus in conformity to a general custom, or with a design to express their abhorrence of the persons buri ed, will admit of a doubt. The manner, in which the phrase, " The stones of the pit, ," is used by .the Prophet Isaiah,* an allu sion, I presume, to the same practice, does not remove the uncer tainty. By the natives of America it seems to be an expression of peculiar reverence, and an act of obedience to the dictates of their religion. After passing the ridge of the mountain, the country on the North opens beautifully to the eye of a traveller. The mountain itself presents, on its Eastern front, a magnificent and awful preci pice, formed by ragged, perpendicular cliffs of white quartz, and rising, immediately West of the road, between five and six hun dred feet. Beyond it, spreads the valley of the Hooestennuc, here running for several miles from East to West, and the fine hills, by which it is bordered. In the valley, and on the hills, the farms and houses ornament the landscape : while a variety of mountains, by which the whole scene is encircled to the eye, fin ish the view. Among these objects is the hill, immediately North of the town. Its soil is rich, and its vegetation vivid. Its summit is crowned with a grove ; and immediately behind it Rat tlesnake mountain forms a back ground of the picture. The Hooestennuc, in its passage through Stockbridge, takes from Lee, a course to the West, of not less, as I should judge, than eight miles ; when, turning round a huge promontory, formed by the Western extremity of Monument mountain, it pursues again * Isaiah xiv. 19. Vol. II. 49 332 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. its Southern course to Great Barrington. Every where, and particularly in Stockbridge, it is bordered by the richest inter vals, of elegant forms, and covered with the most beautiful ver dure. Upon the whole, few spots in New-England are more ro mantically delightful than the township of Stockbridge. One of these mountains, known here by the name of the East- Mountain, a spur also from the same range, wears, towards its South- Western limit, evident proofs of having undergone a violent convulsion, at some distant period. A huge mass of rocks, tum bled from its summit and sides, lies in confusion at the bottom. This event preceded the existence of the oldest trees in the val ley, and of any existing Indian tradition : for they exhibit no marks of the violence, with which this heap of ruins descended. Amid the chaos, ice continues throughout the summer. Still further South, a rock descended from this mountain withia the last twenty years, (1811,) which was somewhat more thaa thirty feet in length, near twenty in breadth, and in different pla ces from one to perhaps six in thickness. At the bottom of the precipice it lodged upon two others. On the top of one of these a round stone about fifteen inches in diameter, probably forced along with it in its fall, was caught between this and the descend ing rock, where it now stands, and is the immediate support of the latter. The mind, when surveying it, can with difficulty conceive how it was possible for the stone to have been arrested in the course of a rapid descent, on the top of a rock every where con vex, and fixed by accident where it could hardly have been fixed by the hand. The large rock from its present position is Called the Table. Under it eight or ten persons may sit without incon venience. Stockbridge was incorporated in 1739, six years after Sheffield, and twenty years before any other town in this County. For a considerable time it was almost merely an Indian settlement, na med Hooestennuc, containing, perhaps, three or four English families. Among these people a mission was begun in October, 1 734, by the Rev. John Sargeant ; a clergyman of great respect ability. This gentleman was born at Newark, New-Jersey, ia LETTER I. 383 1710, and was educated at Yale College ; where he took the de gree of A. B. in 1 729. In 1 731 he was appointed a Tutor in that Seminary ; and continued in that office four years ; in which time he was licensed to preach the Gospel. A few weeks after he quitted the Tutorship, he entered upon his Mission ; and on the 31st of August, the following year, was ordained at Deerfield as an Evangelist. He continued in the business of a Missionary un til his death ; which happened July 22d, 1749, in the thirty-ninth year of his age. Mr. Sargeant baptized one hundred and twenty- nine Indians, during his Ministry ; of whom forty- two were Com municants, when he died. He translated the whole New Testa ment, except the Revelation of St. John, and several parts of the Old Testament, into the language of the Mohekaneews. During his Ministry considerable efforts were made to civilize, and christianize, the Indians of Stockbridge. A house was erect ed for the purpose of boarding, schooling, and instructing in reli gion, husbandry, and mechanical business, a number of Indian children. Mr. Thomas Hollis, of London, had ordered twenty-four of these children to be educated at his own expense. To his efforts those of many other benevolent persons were united ; and strong hopes were entertained, that they would issue in the best conse quences to this unhappy people. But the death of Mr. Sargeant and some other unfortunate incidents, which took place about the same time, particularly the war, which soon after broke out be tween France and England, frustrated these benevolent inten tions. The Rev. Mr. Edwards, afterwards president of Nassau Hall in New-Jersey, having been dismissed from the Ministry in North ampton, succeeded Mr. Sargeant in 1751 ; and continued in the Mission until 1757. As he was unacquainted with the language of his parishioners, he preached to them by an interpreter. Their reverence for him was very great : and his family are still regard ed by their descendants with peculiar respect. After a consider able interval Mr. Edwards was succeeded by the Rev. John Sar geant, youngest son of the gentleman mentioned above ; who has nobly devoted his life to the service of these poor people. Since 384 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. he began his Ministry, the Oneidas have invited the Hooestennuc Indians to plant themselves, in their neighbourhood, in the state of New- York ; and have given them the township of New-Stock- bridge. To that place Mr. Sargeant has removed with his flock ; and has already done no small good in civilizing and chris tianizing them. It has been supposed, that in every state of so ciety the Indian tribes have, for a long period, been diminishing in their numbers. At the last interview, which I had with Mr. Sargeant, he informed me, that his own people were increasing ; not by accumulations from other tribes, but in the ordinary course of population. This tribe has been known, throughout New-England, by the name of Stockbridge Indians. In their own language they were called in the singular? Muhhekanneuw, (Doctor Edwards writes it Mohekaneew,) and Muhheakunnuk in the plural. This name, as interpreted by themselves, signifies " the people of the great wa ters, continually in motion.^ Their history, as derived from the traditions of their ancestors by one of the tribe, is summarily the following. They came from a distant country, West by North ; i. e. a country lying in that direction from their present residence ; crossed over the great waters, which separate that country from this ; and. after a series of pilgrimages, arrived on the border of Hudson's river. Here they settled and spread through the neigh bouring country. Their ancestors, they say, were much more civilized than their descendants ; lived in towns and villages ; and were very numerous ; but, being dispersed by a famine, were obliged to seek for subsistence in distant regions. In the pro gress, they lost their arts and manners ; or, in the language of the historian, " apostatized." Before they began sensibly to dimin ish, they could furnish on any emergency a thousand warriours ; and of course consisted of about four or five thousand persons ; probably, however, not more than four thousand. It ought to be added from this writer, that when their ances tors came to Hudson's river, they there first, after passing over the great waters, " where," to use the language of the historian, LETTER I. 385 " this and the other country is nearly connected, saw ebbing and flowing waters ; and said one to another, this is like Muhheakun- nuk ; the place of our nativity." In the description given above of their rout, this account is precisely established. Between the straits of Behring, by which America and Asia are "nearly con nected ;" and Albany, the course is as near West by North, as we can suppose such a tribe, wandering over such a distance, would place it : and the waters of the Hudson would be the first " ebbing and flowing waters," which emigrants would discover, after they had left those straits. In one instance, therefore, we have found an Indian tradition, directly asserting in terms, which cannot easily be misconstrued, that the Americans, partly at least came from the Eastern shore of Asia. The Stockbridge Indians have been uniform friends to the Eng lish Colonists. They have acted for them as interpreters and spies ; and have often fought in their armies. Yet I have never heard of an instance in which they were treacherous. Several of them have been respectable for their understanding ; and more for their piety. Yet it must be owned, that the body of them have, in many respects, sustained a very imperfect character. Upon the whole, they have behaved well in so many instances, as to prompt in my mind an ardent wish, that their present and future descendants may increase in numbers, virtue, and happi ness. This tribe was, both by itself and by the other tribes, acknowl edged to be the eldest branch of their nation ; and as such, regu larly had the precedency in their Councils. When President Edwards first moved to this town, it contained but five English families ; and only seven, till after the close of the last Canadian war. From this period, its population, and that of the County at large, increased very rapidly. The inhab itants have experienced many troubles from political division ; but have not, so far as I know, permitted their contentions to af fect their ecclesiastical concerns. In industry, intelligence, mor als, and religion, they are not often excelled. 386 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. Stockbridge contains one Congregation only. In 1790, the number of inhabitants was 1,336 ; in 1800, 1,246 ; and, in 1810, 1,372. We continued at Stockbridge till Friday, the 21st. Early the next morning we were joined by Mr. L. who had been my com panion in the preceding journey. After breakfast we rode through Lenox, six miles ; Pittsfield, six ; Lanesborough, six ; and New- Ashford, seven; to Williamstown, eight: thirty-three. The road through the first eight miles, and the last fifteen was hilly and dis agreeable. The remainder was excellent. Lenox, the shire town of this County, is principally built on a single street, upon a ridge, declining rather pleasantly to the East and to the West, but disagreeably interrupted by several deep vallies, crossing it at right angles. The soil, and the buildings, are good: and the town exhibits many proofs of prosperity. The public buildings consist of a church, a court-house, a school-house, and a gaol. Lenox includes a single Congregation, and a few Sectaries ; and contained, in 1790, 1,169 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,041 ; and, in 1810, 1,310. Pittsfield is a beautiful township, lying in a noble expansion between the Taghkannuc and Green Mountain ranges. It is about twelve miles in breadth ; and is sublimely bounded on the North by the lofty summits of Saddle Mountain. On the South, West Stockbridge, or as it ought to be called, Richmond Moun tain intrudes into it centrally, as a magnificent promontory into the ocean. Into Stockbridge this expansion extends on the Eastern side through the townships of Lenox and Lee ; and, on the West ern, through the beautiful valley of Richmond. The two head branches of the Hooestennuc unite in Pittsfield ; and are both prettily bordered by rich intervals. The. soil of this township is excellent. A small, but handsome village is built in the centre around the church. Elsewhere, it-is distributed into farms. Pittsfield was incorporated in the year 1761; about six years before Lenox. Its Indian name was Pantoosuc. Its English LETTER I. 387 name was given it in honour of the Earl of Chatham. The set tlement was begun before the last Canadian war : and four fami lies continued in it through that war, in fortified houses. After the peace of 1 760, the beauty of the situation, and the richness of the soil, allured settlers here in great numbers. Pittsfield includes two Congregations. The number of its in habitants, in 1790, was 1,992; in 1800, 2,261 ; and, in 1810, 2,665. There is a printing-office in Pittsfield and another in Stock- bridge. The road from Pittsfield to Lanesborough, which is very pleasant, lies along the Western branch of the Hooestennuc, and by the side of a lake, about a mile in length, commonly, but erro neously, supposed to be the head water of this river. The township of Lanesborough lies principally on two hills, and an interjacent valley, commencing near the Southern bound ary of New Ashford, and extending five or six miles to the South ; gradually increasing its breadth, until it is lost in the greater val ley of Pittsfield. The hill on the East is a spur of Saddle Mount ain. That on the West is a part of the margin of the Taghkan-. nuc range. Both the hills and the valley are beautiful. The valley is a vast meadow, of the richest luxuriance, and the most animated verdure ; and is gaily ornamented by the fine lake, mentioned above ; and bounded to the eye, at the distance of eight or ten miles below the centre of the town, by the Northern front of West Stockbridge mountain. The soil of this township, as well as of Pittsfield, Stockbridge, &c. is the loam formerly mentioned in the description of North- ford ; and is fitted alike for all the produce of the climate. Here it is of the best quality. The houses in Lanesborough are good farmers' habitations. Lanesborough was incorporated in 1765 ; and contains a Pres byterian, and a small Episcopal Congregation. The number of inhabitants, in 1790, was 2,142; in 1800, 1,443, occupying 213 houses; and, in 1810, 1,303. In this township is wrought a great quantity of white marble : a subject, of which I shall say more hereafter. 388 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. New Ashford is a rough, disagreeable township, lying on the hills, which connect Saddle mountain with the Taghkannuc range. These hills are of uncouth forms, and sudden acclivities. The vallies between them wear an aspect equally forbidding ; and might, with perhaps more propriety, be denominated ravines. The soil, also, is lean ; the houses are generally poor ; and the inhabitants are plainly in indifferent circumstances. The settle ment is recent, and scattered. The only pleasant objects in our ride through it, were the numerous rivulets, which murmured down the vallies with a clean and sprightly current ; and Saddle Mountain, the South-Western base of which is in this township. Among the rivulets, we passed the Western branch of the Hooes tennuc, about seven miles Northward of the lake, mentioned above. It is here a small brook; crossing the road from the hills on the West, and descending in a narrow valley by the road-side into Lanesborough. Before its entrance into the lake, it is swol len into a stream of a considerable size. I am, Sir, vours, &c. LETTER II. Saddle Mountain — Williamstown— Col. Williams— Williams College. Dear Sir, Saddle Mountain, which derives its name from its resemblance to a saddle, is the highest land in this State. Its whole length, from North-East to South-West, may be about six miles. Its South- Easfern front is extensively visible throughout Berkshire ; and, from high elevations, in the States of New-Hampshire, New- York, Vermont, and Connecticut, at very great distances. Its figure is remarkably fine ; and its aspect majestic in the highest degree. On its Northern side ascends the mountain of Williams town ; another part of the same spur, of great elevation. The South- Western summit has, by repeated mensurations, dif fering very little in their results, been found to be about 3,700 feet above the subjacent valley, and therefore at least 4,000, above the level of the ocean. During a great part of the year, it is either embosomed, or capped, by clouds ; and indicates to the surrounding inhabitants the changes of weather, with not a little exactness. This mountain is a spur from the range of Taghkannuc, con nected with it by the hills of New-Ashford. From the Green Mountain range it is entirely separated by the valley, and river of Hoosac. The township of Williamstown lies principally in a triangular valley, bounded by Williamstown Mountain on the South, the range of the Green Mountains on the East, and that of Taghkan nuc on the West. These ranges approach near each other on the North, leaving a narrow opening into Pownal. Between the former of these mountains, and the North-Eastern ends of Will iamstown and Saddle mountains, there is another opening on the South-East ; through which Hoosac river enters Williamstown from Adams ; as it does Pownal from Williamstown, through the first of these openings. There is, also, a third passage out of this Vol. II. 50 390 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. valley ; viz. that, in which our road lay, between the South western ends of these mountains, and the range of Taghkannuc. This triangular area may, at a loose estimate, be six or seven miles on a side. Its surface is irregular in the extreme ; being every where made up of varieties. The borders of the Hoosac, and of Green River, which joins it from the South, are formed by beautiful successions of intervals. The scenery, as a whole, is pleasant but more distinguished for sublimity than beauty. Williamstown is almost wholly settled by farmers, living on their respective plantations. The town is built near its centre. The principal street runs along a declivity, sloping from the Taghkannuc range toward the East. In its progress it passes over three small rising grounds ; on the Westernmost of which stands a handsome church ; and on the others, the two colleges, belonging to the Institution, denominated Williams College. There are many good houses in Williamstown ; and several handsome ones. Williams College owes its existence to Colonel Ephraim Will iams ; a native of New Town in Massachusetts. This gentleman spent a considerable part of his life ih the County of Hampshire. .then including all that part of the Province of Massachusetts Bay, which lies West of the County of Worcester. During the war, which commenced in 1740, he commanded the line of forts, built on the Western side of Connecticut river ; and resided principal ly at Hoosac, or Massachusetts Fort; which stood not far from the North-Eastern end of Saddle Mountain, within the present township of Adams, and on the Eastern border of Hoosac river. At this time a small number of persons began a settlement with in the limits of what is now Williamstown. The hardships, suf fered by these men, were of course great ; and appear to have excited in the mind of Colonel Williams an intention of extend ing his beneficence to them at some future period. To encour age them in the dangers, and difficulties, which he saw them un dergo, he at times intimated to them his intention. In 1755, he commanded a regiment, destined to a post at the head of lake George. As he was proceeding through Albany, he LETTER II. 391 made his will in that city, on the 22nd of July. In this instru ment, after giving certain legacies to his connections, he directed, that the remainder of his land should be sold at the discretion of his Executors, within five years after an established peace ; and that the interest of the monies arising from the sale, and also the interest of his notes and bonds, should be applied to the support of a free-school in a township, West of fort Massachusetts ; pro vided the said township fell within Massachusetts Bay, upon run ning the line between that Province and New- York ; and provid ed, the said township when incorporated, should be named Will iamstown. The property, designated in this bequest, was loaned on inter est ; and, after an accumulation of thirty years, was considered as a fund, sufficient to warrant the institution of the free-school, con templated in the will. The ,spot, pointed out, was, June 20th, 1785, incorporated by the name of Williamstown. In 1785, nine gentlemen were appointed trustees for the management of the donation, and the free-school to which it was to give birth. In 1788, they voted to erect a building. The Legislature granted them a lottery, which yielded 4,000 dollars ; and the inhabitants contributed 2,000 more. In 1 790, they built a brick edifice, eighty-two feet in length, and forty-two in breadth, of four stories, on the middle eminence in .the principal street. It contained twenty-eight rooms, and a chapel. The expense of erecting it was 11,700 dollars; and the remainder of the fund was about the same sum. The school was opened in October, 1791, under the superin- tendency of Mr. Ebenezer Fitch, now Rev. Dr. Fitch, President of Williams College. It consisted of two establishments; an Academy, and an English free-school ; and, under the direction of this gentleman, immediately became prosperous. A considera ble number of students resorted to it from Massachusetts, and the neighbouring States, and even from Canada. In 1 793, the Le gislature, being informed of its flourishing condition, erected it in to a College, by the name of Williams College. The Trustees of the free-school were, by the act of incorporation, constituted, 392 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. together with four other gentlemen, including the President, Trustees of the College. The Trustees may be seventeen in number; may fill all vacancies in their Board; and may hold property, the annual income of which shall be 20,000 dollars. In October of the same year, the College commenced its opera tions by the admission of three classes of students. In 1794, a lot was purchased, and a house built, for the President. The same year the Legislature granted to the College 4,000 dollars ; and in 1796, two townships of land in the District of Maine. One of these townships was sold the following year for 10,000 dollars. With this sum, and an addition of 2,400 dollars, the Trustees erected another brick building one hundred and four feet in length, twenty-eight in breadth, of four stories, and con taining thirty-two chambers. The Seminary possesses a well chosen library, of about 1,000 volumes ; and a small, but valua ble, philosophical apparatus. Towards the increase of these each student pays a trifling tax. Two private libraries, belong ing to the students, contain, perhaps, 500 volumes. The Facul ty consists of a President and a Vice President, a Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, and three, or four Tutors. The number of students may be averaged at one hundred. The government and instruction, the learning and morals, of the stu dents are all honourable to the Institution. The expectations of its founder are therefore more than fulfilled.* I am, Sir, yours, &c. * For most of these facts I am indebted to a history of Williams College, written by the Rev. Dr. Fitch, and published in Hist Col. — V. viii. LETTER HI. Donations for the promotion of learning — Insect — Rev. Mr. Swift. Dear Sir, A man of reflection is naturally led, when reviewing the principal subject of the preceding letter, to feel strongly the advantages, derived by mankind from the destination, made of his property by Col. Williams. The original sum, given for the foundation of a free-school, was probably not more than four or five thousand dollars. By the accumulation of interest, and various other ad ditions, flowing from both public and private sources, such as do nations of this kind are apt to receive in their progress, it has be come the means of supplying education, science, and usefulness, to a multitude of mankind. Recent as is its origin, it has already sent into the world a considerable number of respectable Clergy men, Lawyers, and Physicians ; together with many other men, scarcely less useful in their several departments. From the same fountain new waters are annually issuing; and will in all probabil ity continue to issue through a series of ages. These will spread the same happy efficacy still farther and farther. Upon the whole, a mass of benefits will be here originated, communicated, and enjoyed, many millions of times transcending that, which usu ally results from much larger sums, disposed of in any customary manner. At the same time, the Founder has transmitted his name to distant ages, and will be remembered with gratitude and honour, long after the period, at which, otherwise, he would have been forgotten; and very long after the names of multi tudes, richer, but less wise and munificent, than himself, will have perished. With this subject in view, I have often wondered, that, among the numerous wealthy men in the United States, there should al ways have been found such a paucity of benefactors to literary Institutions. The benefactors of the principal Colleges in New- England have been already mentioned. Among these the Uni- 394 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. versity in Cambridge can boast of a greater number of individu als, and a larger amount of donations, than all the rest. But even these have been few, compared with what might have been justly expected from the wealth of its neighbourhood.* All that can be either necessary, or useful, for the enlightened education of youth ; a complete array of professorships, liberally endowed; an ample provision of all kinds of scientifical apparatus ; a cabinet, re plenished with a generous assortment of mineralogical specimens; a botanical garden, stored with the vegetable productions of Amer ica at least; and a library, containing fifty thousand volumes; might have been easily furnished to that Institution by private munificence ; and no man's personal enjoyments, nor those of his family, been perceptibly lessened. When we look at the history of Great Britain, a very different scene presents itself to the eye. Thirty of the colleges belong ing to the Universities of .Oxford and Cambridge, were, if I mis take not, founded by private persons ; and most of them by indi viduals. When to these are added fellowships, professorships, li braries, and other splendid and extensive means of promoting learning and science, we are presented, not with a resemblance, but a contrast to every thing of the same nature in our own coun try. I shall be answered, that England is a country far richer, than our own ; and that in England, therefore, liberal contributions to these objects may be reasonably looked for: while in our own in fantine circumstances they ought not to be expected. That Eng land is now as rich as any other country on the globe, I am ready to admit : but I have many doubts whether, between the com mencement of the thirteenth and the termination of the fifteenth * Very liberal donations since the text was written have been given to the Uni versity in Cambridge both by the State of Massachusetts and by individuaLgentle- men. The State has given to this Seminary $100,000 from the public funds, be side considerable benefactions by lotteries. Count Rumford, a native of Massachu setts has left to this University $50,000 as a legacy. A gentleman of Boston, Sam uel Elliott, Esq. has made a donation of #20,000 as a foundation for a Professorship of the Greek language. Another gentleman whose name is unknown to me has.giv- en $25,000. The Legislature has given $60,000 also to Williams and Bowdoin Colleges. LETTER III. 395 century, the wealth even of that country was materially greater, in proportion to the number of its inhabitants, than that of the Southern division of New-England is now. Between these peri ods, however, more than half of the English colleges were founded. Whether this opinion be just, or not, the wealth of New-England is amply sufficient to furnish the best means of education ; and foundations numerous and ample enough, to enable a considera ble number of persons, distinguished for their talents, to pursue, through life, literature and science in their remoter fields, and up their sublimer heights, amid ease and leisure. Such foundations have been, peculiarly, the sources of the extensive learning and science, which are so honourable to the English nation ; and of the mental distinction, acquired by those, who have been emi nently its pride, ornament, and blessing. Unless I am misinformed, there is not a single Fellowship, es tablished in the United States. There certainly is none in New- England ; where far greater efforts have been made to promote education, than in all the rest of the American Union. Nor is there a single foundation, on which an individual may pursue lit erary objects to any considerable extent, except the Professor ships of colleges : few of them very liberally supported ; and most of them demanding much active business from the incum bent. Of these I know of but one, wholly supported by an indi vidual American.* There have, indeed, been several very honourable contribu tions to the advancement of education, made in this country. The late benefactions to the Theological Seminary in Andover are noble. A Mr. Bacon of Colchester in Connecticut gave his whole estate by will, amounting to between thirty and forty thou sand dollars, for the establishment of an Academy ; and a Mr. Staples of Weston his, amounting to perhaps twelve thousand, for a similar purpose. In Boston, Saleni, and other places in the vicinity, a liberal contribution has been raised for the establish ment of a botanical Professorship, and garden. To the donors, in every instance, I give cheerfully the full tribute of respect ; * Some others have been established at Cambridge since the date of this journey. 390 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. and to such of them as are living, I wish the best of blessings. But to these efforts what extensive and profitable additions might be easily made. A moderate share of expansion in the under standing, and the heart, might replenish our Colleges with fel lowships, and professorships ; place in their respective libraries all the books, necessary for the useful consultation of learned men ; and store their philosophical rooms with all the imple ments, fitted for the display, or the advancement, of scientifical discoveries. In these observations I intend to include means of leisure and ease for the pursuit of learning, wherever it can be found ; and of science wherever it can be developed. Men whose abilities, and dispositions, qualify them for such pursuits, are the boast of the countries, in which they live. But, if they are to be thus employed, they cannot at the same time be occu pied in the acquisition of that property, by which they are to be supported. I well know, that to the ear of selfishness this strain will sound harshly ; and am well aware, that I shall be answered with that grave tale of avarice concerning the necessity, and the difficulties, of providing for a family ; and concerning the great number of private and public claims, continually made on wealth ; and shall probably be confronted by that white-haired adage, that " chari ty begins at home." To this story I reply with very little com placency, that the charity in question not only begins, but ends, at home. To provide for our children whatever will contribute to their usefulness, or comfort, so far as it can be done by reason able efforts, is unquestionably our duty ; but no precept requires, and no defensible consideration demands, that we should spend life to nurse their pride, and pamper their luxury. In the Uni ted States where the government of opulent parents is but too commonly loose in principle, and imprudent in practice ; where the children of such parents are usually habituated neither to in dustry nor economy, and are nurtured from infancy in habits of indulgence, expense, and show ; where estates cannot be entail ed ; and where property is almost always acquired by those who possess it, and scarcely ever retained, beyond two generations, LETTER III. 397 by those to whom it descends ; there is no folly more palpable, , than that, which is seen in the toil, anxiety, and suffering, under gone by a worshipper of gold, struggling to accumulate wealth for his children till he begins to step into the grave. The chil dren are ruined for time and eternity by the labours of the pa rent : for they are taught, that all good lies in wealth, splendour, and luxury ; and not in intelligence, and virtue. Accordingly, they seek for no other. In the pursuit, they buzz through a gid dy, momentary course ; at the end of which they see their Elys ium vanish for ever ; and either expire under the loss, or pine through their remaining days in uselessness, degradation, and despair. It would be easy to name a man of great reputation and worth, who left to his children a million of dollars; and whose sons fluttered through their fortunes in four or five years ; when one of them became the tenant of a jail, and died of a broken heart. How much happier would they have been, had their father been a bankrupt, or left his estate to the public. But there are many persons, who cannot make even this plea, and who are obliged, at the approach of death, to hunt for heirs and objects, on which they may bestow their property. If these men will inquire, they will soon learn, that the objects, here urg ed, are at least among the best ; that, devoted to them, their property will do more good to mankind, and prove the source of more honour to themselves, than can result from almost any oth er method of disposal. Without learning, what would their coun try be ? A wilderness. What their state of society ? That of Sav ages. I am not weak enough to imagine, that these observations will operate against the avarice, and pride, which they are intended to affect ; but I find my own reward, for the trouble of writing, in the pleasure of uttering a little truth concerning this subject. At the same time, I beg leave to remind those, who are implicated in them, that learning cannot flourish without support ; that institu* tions, furnishing all the advantages of education, cannot exist without extensive pecuniary foundations ; and that until these are supplied by those, who alone can supply them, it will no longer Vol. II. 51 398 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. become such men to inquire, either with contempt, or curiosity, why learning does not flourish more in this country. On this sub ject let such men be dumb. Col. Williams has manifested a no bler spirit : and his memory will live, indefinitely, not only in Wil liamstown, but throughout the American Union, in the grateful recollection of all wise and good men. In September, 1 806, I passed through this town on a journey to Vermont. While I was here, President Fitch shewed me an insect, about an inch in length, of a brown colour, tinged with orange, with two antennas, or feelers, nOt unlike a rosebug in form, but in every respect handsomer. This insect came out of a tea-table, made of the boards of an apple-tree, and belonging to Mr. Putnam, one of the inhabitants, and a son of the Hon. Major-General Putnam, late of Brooklyn in Connecticut. I went with President Fitch to Mr. Putnam's, to examine the spot, whence the insect had emerged into light. We measured the cavity ; and found it about two inches in length, nearly hori zontal, and inclining upward very little, except at the mouth. Between the hole, and the outside of the leaf of the table, there were forty grains of the wood. President Fitch supposed, with what I thought a moderate estimate, that the saw-mill, and the . cabinet-maker, had cut off at least as many as thirteen more : making sixty in the whole. The tree had, therefore, been grow ing sixty years, from the time, when the egg was deposited in it, out of which the insect was produced. How long a period had intervened between the day, in which the apple-tree was cut down, and that, in which the table was purchased by Mr. Put nam, is unknown. If had been in his possession twenty years. Of course, eighty years had elapsed between the laying of the egg, and the birth of the insect. After its birth, it was placed under a tumbler, and attempts were made, by offering it for sustenance wood of the apple-tree, and bread, to prolong its life. It ate a small quantity of the bread; but, either for want of more proper food, or from being lodged in too cold a temperature, or from some other cause, it died within a few days. My own acquaintance with entomology1 LETTER III. 399 is so limited, that I know not whether the observations which I am about to make, may not seem idle, and be really superfluous, to persons acquainted with this branch of natural history. But, I con fess, the fact opened to me a train of thoughts, in some measure in teresting. I had often wondered at many things, relative to this class of beings ; and had often heard men of respectable under standing express their wonder, and their doubts, concerning the same things : particularly, the origin of many new tribes of in sects, which, within the last forty years, had visited these States : (tribes unknown even to the oldest men living, and, therefore, styled new ;) the periods intervening between the appearance and disappearance of other tribes, which are well known ; for ex ample, the locust ; the apparently absolute disappearance of still other tribes, together with several other things of a similar na ture. I had long been satisfied of the vivacious nature of seeds. Here I was presented with full proof of the same nature in the eggs of insects. The egg, from which this insect sprang, was unques tionably deposited eighty years before its appearance in a living form. Sixty of these years it existed in the tree, where it was laid. Perhaps it may be more unobjectionably said, that eighty years elapsed from the time, when the cause of its future anima tion was lodged in the tree, to the commencement of that anima tion. What was true of this insect, is in all probability true of many other species. It ceases, then, to be strange, that various tribes appear once only during the life of man ; or during the ex istence of several generations. Every such tribe must ordinarily be new to the existing generation, because no account of its ap pearance has been recorded. The want of a regular cause of their existence cannot any longer be alleged,' even with plausibil ity ; nor the doctrine of equivocal generation be maintained, even on the unsolid ground of inexplicableness. The appearance, in 1770, of the palmer worm, after an interval of thirty years, ceas es to be an object of wonder ; nor can we be surprised, that it has not appeared again, although a longer period has elapsed. There can be nothing perplexing in the periods of the locust ; nor any 400 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. further necessity of inquiring, whence new species of insects are derived, or what has become of those which are apparently ex tinct. It is here proved, that in the proper situation, always known, and selected by the insect for its eggs, and by the eruca for its chrysalis, the cause of animation may continue perfect through an indefinite period : while yet its operations are suspended. There may be eggs, as well as seeds, which may contain, uninjured, the principle of future life for several hundreds, or thousands, of years. Yet, afterwards, the one by a change of circumstances may pro duce a living animal, as the other, a living plant. It will be admitted, that every such being was created for ends, which it was fitted to accomplish. It must also be admitted, that, if all insects were to generate yearly, they would convert the earth into a desart. The Author of the world, therefore, while he has fitted them to fulfil the ends of their being, has subjected them to this slow and interrupted propagation, that they might not desolate the globe. The palmer-worm, were it to appear annu ally, would, within a few years, empty New-England of its inhab itants ; partly by destroying the means of their subsistence ; and partly by spreading diseases, which would spring from the putre faction of its innumerable millions. Who can fail to admire the wisdom and goodness, displayed in this conduct of Providence ? The inhabitants of Williamstown have been injured heretofore by political contentions. Their minister, the Rev. Mr. Swift, a gentleman highly respectable for his good sense and piety, who died February, 1807, laboured long, and faithfully, here, under many discouragements, both from the want of a sufficient support for his family, and from a disheartening insensibility of his hearers to the requisitions of the Gospel. But towards the close of his life he had the peculiar satisfaction to see an extensive revival of Religion in his congregation, and a very interesting change wrought in their character. Williamstown includes two congregations ; and contained, in 1790, 1,769 inhabitants; in 1800, 270 houses, and 2,086 inhabit ants ; and, in 1810, 1,843. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER IV. , Pownal — Bennington— Grass-hoppers — Shaftsbury — Violent rain— Arlington— Sun derland — Colonel Ethan Allen — Manchester — Dorset — Harwich — Wallingford — Clarendon. Dear Sir, On Monday we resumed our journey ; and, passing through Pownal, reached Bennington in the evening : fourteen miles. Pownal is the first township of Vermont in this quarter ; the dividing line between this State and Massachusetts crossing the road about two miles North of Williams College. It lies partly on a spur from the Green Mountains, partly in the valley of the Hoosac, and partly on the range of the Taghkannuc. The road from Williamstown passes along the Hoosac, about four miles : then, ascending this spur, and crossing it very obliquely, it de scends again into the valley of Bennington. Through the great est part of the distance we found it rough and disagreeable. The Western part of Pownal I shall have occasion to describe hereafter. The Eastern part of it lies on a rough, tedious hill ; the surface unpleasant ; the soil moist, but cold and unproduc tive : the houses also were ordinary; and the inhabitants appa rently unthrifty. I saw here a beautiful object. On the Green Mountains, which rose at some distance Eastward, rested a long train of clouds, variously figured, and spread throughout a great length, from the middle of the acclivity to the summit. A num ber of others were at the same time slowly sailing up the bosom of the mountain, and one, formed into an elegant arch, crowned the loftiest point. All these the setting sun tinged throughout with a purple, of the most exquisite hue. If the Tyrian dye was a fourth part as beautiful, I cannot wonder, that it was coveted by Emperors. The pleasure, resulting from the novelty and splen dour of this scene, was not a little enhanced by the fact, that we met with no other agreeable object in this part of our journey. 402 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. Pownal contained, in 1790, 1,746 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,692; and, in 1810, 1,654. This is one instance out of a considerable number, in which even these comparatively new settlements have begun to send out their inhabitants, to populate the Western wil derness. Bennington lies immediately North of Pownal ; and is the old est settlement in the State of Vermont on the Western side of the mountains. It is distant from New-Haven one hundred and twen ty-five miles ; and from Boston about one hundred and fifty. It is situated principally between the range of the Green Moun tains, and the spur, already mentioned, which terminates in a bold bluff, of considerable height, called Mount Anthony. The val ley, narrowing to a point within the limits of Pownal, if I mistake not, forms here a considerable expansion; and opens between the head of Mount Anthony, and the township of Shaftsbury, to that of Hoosac in the State of New- York. ' The expansion is beauti ful ; being formed of little hills and intervening valfies, of slopes and swells, covered with well-cultivated farms. It is bounded on the East by the range of the Green Mountains, and terminated on the North-West by the mountain of Shaftsbury. The soil of Bennington is of the first quality ; and equally suit ed to all the productions of the climate. Wheat and grass, the extremes of agricultural vegetation, grow here luxuriantly, and alike. The pastures, even at this period of the year, were cov ered with rich and abundant herbage ; and appeared in many places like meadows, rather than like fields, in which cattle had fed through the whole preceding season. The soil is that fine, gravelly loam, which, when neither too moist nor too dry, yields every thing gratifying to the wishes of the farmer. There is a scattered village in the centre of this township. Both the houses, and their appendages, exhibit abundant proofs of prosperity. Bennington was granted in the year 1749 by Benning Went worth, Governour of New-Hampshire ; and from him received its name. In 1764, Captain Robinson, a respectable inhabitant of Hardwick in the Province of Massachusetts Bay, having pur- LETTER IV. 403 chased a tract of land, began the settlement of Vermont, on the Western side of the Green Mountains, in this place. He was soon followed by a number of planters ; and the township was filled up with great rapidity. Bennigton is the shire-town of the County of Bennington. Its public buildings are a decayed Congregational church, a Court- House and a goal. Very little snow falls in Bennington ; so little, that the inhabit ants are rarely furnished with good sleighing ; and less, 1 believe, than the quantity, which usually falls on the borders of Long- Island sound. On this subject I shall make some observations hereafter. Bennington, and its neighbourhood, have for some time past been infested by grasshoppers of a kind, with which I had before been wholly unacquainted. At least, their history, as given by respecta ble persons, is in a great measure novel. They appear at differ ent periods, in different years ; but the time of their continuance seems to be the same. This year, (1798,) they came four weeks earlier than in 1797, and disappeared four weeks sooner. As I had no opportunity of examining them, I cannot describe their form, or their size. Their favourite food is clover, and maize. Of the latter they devour the part, which is called the silk ; the immediate means of fecundating the ear ; and thus prevent the kernel from coming to perfection. But their voracity extends to almost every vegetable ; even to the tobacco plant and the burdock. Nor are they confined to vegetables alone. The gar ments of labourers, hung up in the field while they are at work, these insects destroy in a few hours ; and with the same voracity they devour the loose particles, which the saw leaves upon the surface of pine boards, and which, when separated, are termed saw-dust, The appearance of a board fence, from which the particles had been eaten in this manner, and which I saw, was novel and singular ; and seemed the result, not of the operations of the plane, but of attrition ; the cause of which I was unable to conjecture. 404 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. At times, particularly a little before their disappearance, they collect in clouds ; rise high in the atmosphere ; and take exten sive flights, of which neither the cause, nor the direction has hith erto been discovered. I was authentically informed in Shaftsbu ry, that some persons, employed in raising the steeple of the church in Williamstown, were, while standing near the vane, covered by them ; and saw at the same time vast swarms of them flying far above their heads. The customary flight of grasshop pers rarely exceeds four or five yards ; and their wings are ap parently so weak, as to forbid excursions, extended much beyond these limits. It is to be observed however, that they customari ly return ; and perish on the very grounds, which they have rav aged. Bennington contained, in 1790, 2,377 inhabitants; in 1800, 2,243; and in 1810, 2,524. It has been generally but erroneously, supposed, that the bat tle between the British under Colonel Baume, and the Ameri cans under General Stark, was fought within the limits of this township. I spent the evening, and night, at the friendly, hospitable house of the Rev. Doctor Swift whom I shall have occasion to mention hereafter. In the morning, Tuesday September 25th we rode to Shafts bury ; where we dined at an inn with a large company, assem bled by a lawsuit between two brothers. I mention this fact, be cause, so far as I can recollect, it was the first controversy of the same nature, which I had known between two persons thus related. After dinner we set out for Manchester ; and, having rode two, miles, were obliged to shelter ourselves from a violent rain in a saddler's shop. Here we continued till sun set ; and then returned to the inn, at which we had dined. Amends, in my own view sufficient, were made us for this de tention. The building, in which we were sheltered, stood on a handsome elevation, overlooking an extensive valley toward the East ; and gave us a full prospect of the Green Mountain range. for a great distance. The wind blew violently from the North- LETTER IV. 405 West. The heavens were dark ; the clouds were wild, tossed in fantastical forms, and hurried through the expansion with a vio lent celerity. Many of them struck the mountains at their mid dle height; and thence sailed up their bosom with a motion, which, notwithstanding their rapid progress over our heads, was to our eyes, slow, majestic, and awful. The world was univer sally wrapt in gloom : and the bosom of the mountain was cover ed with a deep brown, approaching to black. After this melan choly and cavern-like darkness had continued about one hour ; and tempest, and tumult, appeared to reign universally ; sudden ly most beautiful and brilliant spots of gold, of various figures and sizes, formed by the light of the sun piercing through the inter stices of the clouds, were seen wandering over the surface of the valley beneath ; crossing the farms, houses, and forests ; slowly ascending the acclivities of the mountains ; gradually sliding over the summits ; and thus fading, successively, from the sight. The contrast between the gloom and the splendour was so strong ; the splendour itself was in many instances so vivid; (for the spots were not equally bright, and on that account were, in a groupe, more beautiful ;) that they appeared as if the vallies, farms, forests, and mountains, were successively polished and luminous ; while their rapid motion over the vallies and their slow ascent up the mountains in the midst of the moving gloom, by which they were surrounded, interested the eye, especially while connecting them with the wild and violent aspect of all above, and all beneath, in a manner not only singular, but exces sive. I never beheld any prospect more striking, or more complete. Shaftsbury lies immediately North of Bennington ; and has the same excellent soil. A mountain in the North-Western quarter occupies a considerablepart of this township. The South ern division is remarkably pleasant : being a collection of rich farms, sloping towards the South, and opening into a handsome prospect. The houses, which we saw, were indifferent ; and in dicated less prosperity than would naturally be expected from a soil so productive. Vol. II. 52 406 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. In 1790, Shaftsbury contained 1,999 inhabitants in 1 800, 1,895 ; and in 1810, 1,973. In the morning we rode through a part of Arlington, and a part of Sunderland, to Manchester ; seventeen miles. Here we din ed ; and in the afternoon rode through a part of Dorset, and a corner of Harwich, to Danby; where we lodged. The soil of both Arlington and Sunderland, so far as we saw it, was principally sandy, and light. The country was extensively covered with white pines ; and the settlements were in the strict est sense new. The houses were chiefly small and ordinary ; and the inhabitants plainly in indifferent circumstances. We passed, however, only through the skirts of these townships. Arlington contained in 1790, 991 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,597; in 1810, 1,468. Sunderland contained in 1790, 414 inhabitants; in 1800, 557, in 1810, 575. Sunderland formerly was the residence of Colonel Ethan Allen : a man who as a prisoner excited some interest in Great Britain, and who for many years was notorious in the United States. This man was born at Salisbury in Connecticut. His education was confined, and furnished him with a mere smattering of knowledge ; but his mind was naturally haughty, restless, and en terprising. Licentious in his disposition, he was impatient of the restraints either of government or religion, and not always sub missive to those of common decency. In his conversation he was voluble, blunt, coarse and profane ; in his pretensions to knowl edge, daring ; and in his assertions bold and peremptory. The confidence, which he seemed to possess in himself, naturally in spired confidence in others, still less informed ; and they readily believed, that he, who asserted so positively must be sure, that his assertions were true. With these advantages, and these only, he early obtruded himself upon the public as an opposer, and rid- iculer, of Christianity ; and gloried in the character of an Infidel. A little circle of loose persons will always gather about a man of this description. " Qui fidit sibi, dux regit examen" is a maxim extensively applicable ; but in no case more so, than where prof- LETTER IV. 407 ligate principles have become necessary to shelter the character, and quiet the consciences, of licentious men. Allen was sur rounded by a herd of such men: both parties being equally pleas ed : he, to be listened to as their oracle ; and thejr to learn that a virtuous character was no better than a vicious one, and that God would punish vice neither here, nor hereafter. By his own com panions he was heard with attention, and credit: and at times triumphed over modest antagonists by peremptoriness and effront ery, by rudeness and ribaldry. At length he assumed a bolder tone ; and determined to become an instructor of the public. This was a fatal step. He neither understood the subject, nor knew how to write ; and therefore, although not destitute of na tive talents, he appeared as a pigmy in the field of literary con tention. He named his book the Oracles of Reason ; after a wretched publication of Charles Blount, one of the pertest and weakest, of all the British Infidels ; but probably Allen's favour ite author ; and not improbably the only one, whose works he had read. This was the first formal publication in the United States, openly directed against the Christian Religion. When it came out, I read as much of it, as I could summon patience to read. Decent nonsense may possibly amuse an idle hour : but brutal nonsense can be only read as an infliction of penal justice. The style was crude, and vulgar, ; and the sentiments were coarser than the style. The arguments were flimsy, and unmeaning; and the conclusions were fastened upon the premises by mere force. In the bustling part of the American Revolution, Col. Allen made some noise. At the request of the Legislature of Connecticut, he inarched, in May 1775, soon after the battle of Lexington, to at tack the fortresses of Ticonderoga and Crown Point. At Castle- ton in this State he was joined by Col. Arnold; sent by the Mas sachusetts Committee of Safety to accomplish the same object. Arnold, however, was alone ; but determined to join the expedi tion. They reached the ferry at Ticonderoga on the evening of the ninth ; and, having with great difficulty procured boats, land ed eighty-three men on the opposite shore during the night. At the head of these he marched to the gate of the fort ; where a 408 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. sentinel snapped his gun at him, and retired. Allen immediate ly entered the fort, and formed his men upon the parade ; where they huzzaed, and roused the garrison. Allen proceeded imme diately to the chamber of Captain De Laplace ; and, holding his drawn sword over his head while he was yet undressed, demand ed the surrender of the fort. " By what authority ?" said the Commandant. " I demand it," said Allen, " in the name of the great Jehovah, and the Continental Congress." The fort was immediately given up, together with its stores', and garrison : for ty-nine in number. The same day they took Crown Point also ; and, soon after, a sloop of war ; the only armed vessel on Lake Champlain. During the following autumn he went twice into Canada, to engage the inhabitants in the American cause. In the last of these expeditions he attempted, at the head of one hundred and ten men, to make himself master of Montreal; but failed of his design, and was taken prisoner. Indeed, the enterprize was orig inally desperate ; and its success that, which a sober man must certainly have expected. He was met by the British with five hundred men ; and, after making the best defence in his power, and being deserted by most of his own men, of whom about eigh ty were Canadians, he surrendered himself as a prisoner. For some time he was kept in irons, and treated with much severity ; and was then sent to England, with an assurance, that he was des tined to the halter. Here he continued scarcely a month, when he was sent back to Halifax. Thence, after five months confine ment in prison, he was removed to New-York. On his passage a plot was formed to kill the Captain, and take possession of the frigate. It was proposed to Allen ; but he refused to join in it ; particularly, because he had been well treated by him. He con tinued at New-York a year and a half, and was then exchanged for Col. Campbell. After his return to Vermont, the State gave a public testimony to his merits, and sufferings by placing him at the head of the militia. He died suddenly, February 13, 1789, on his own estate in Colchester. He was thought by many per sons to be a man of superiour talents : but for this character he LETTER IV. 409 was indebted to the boldness of his sentiments, the fferemptori- ness of his decisions, and the paradoxical nature of his opinions.* Manchester is a pretty town, lying on the Battenkill; a branch of Hudson's river. This stream rises in Dorset, the next town- ship above Manchester ; and has heretofore received the waters of a spring, a part of which entered Lake Champlain by Otter creek, and thence was discharged in the gulph of St. Lawrence : while the remainder mingled with the ocean at Sandy Hook, be low New-York : the distance between the two points being not far from a thousand miles. Manchester is built on a single street, commencing near the foot of the mountain on the West, and lying along a beautiful plain for about a mile. The situation is rarely equalled, unless on the bor der of a considerable river, or of the ocean. The soil is inferi our to that of Bennington and Shaftesbury. The houses are good farmers' dwellings. The inhabitants of Manchester, like those of many other new settlements, are divided in their religious opinions ; but with a Catholicism, less common than could be wished, have generally agreed to employ, successively, preachers of the several denom inations of religions in the town, whenever they could find those, against whose character, deportment, and preaching, there could be no reasonable objection* By this spirit of concession they *_Dr. Elliot, who removed from Guilford in Connecticut, to Vermont, was well acquainted with Col. Allen, and made him a visit at a time when his daughter was sick, and near to death. He was introduced to the Library, where the Colonel read to him some of his writings with much self-complacency, and asked, is not that well done ? While they were thus employed, a messenger entered and informed Col. Allen, that his daughter was dying, and desired to speak with him. He imme diately went to her chamber, accompanied by Dr. Elliot, who was desirous of wit nessing the interview. The wife of Col. Allen was a pious woman, and had instruc ted her daughter in the principles of Christianity. As soon as her father appeared at her bedside, she said to him, ' I am about to die ; shall I believe in the principles you have taught me, or shall I believe in what my mother has taught me ?' He be came extremely agitated; his chin quivered; bis whole frame shook; and after waiting a few moments, he replied, ' Believe what your mother has taught you.' For the facts in the preceding account, I am indebted to a gentleman of Killing- worth, who received them from his kinsman, Dr. Elliot. — Pub. 410 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. have extensively secured to themselves, what otherwise would have been unattainable, the public worship of God. Manchester contained, in 1790, 1,276 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,397; and, in 1810, 1,502. From Manchester to Danby we took a road, on which travel ling had recently been commenced. After turning North-East over the plain, on which Manchester is built, it resumed its Northern, and proper direction round the end of a mountain on the West, and entered a narrow defile between this and the Green Mountains. Our progress here, for several miles, was dark and dreary. The sun was hidden in a moment. Unculti vated, shaggy mountains, on both sides, forbade every excursion of the eyes. A swamp, with a brook, which flowed heavily from it, bordered our road on the East. The road itself was indiffer ent. The houses, apparently dropped down into this desert re gion, were few and solitary. The fields were thinly scattered, lonely, and half-cultivated : and the inhabitants appeared, as if they had fled to a place, where the world would never find them again. The only object of curiosity, which we met with in this region, was a multitude of white stones, of very hard granite, thickly spread over a tract about a mile in length. They were all roun ded, apparently by being long covered with water ; and were the only specimens of granite which I had observed, after leaving the Green Mountains in Cornwall. The inn, at which we terminated this desolate ride, was a hum ble one, but very welcome to us : especially, as it was inhabited by people who were very friendly and obliging. The next morning, Thursday, September 26th, we rode to Rutland before dinner : twenty miles. Our journey lay along the principal branch of Otter Creek. The road differed little from that, which has been last described : but the mountain on the West, having terminated in Wallingford, we escaped from our defile into an open, and more agreeable, country. Of Harwich, Dorset, and Wallingford, through the skirts of which the principal part of our progress was made, after we left LETTER IV. 411 Manchester, I know nothing, except what I have already men tioned. Dorset, which lies on the other side of the Western mountain, and on the road formerly used, is said to be a pleasant, and considerable town. Clarendon lies immediately South of Rutland, at the foot of the Green Mountains. It presented to us several good houses ; a decently appearing church ; several mills; a number of promising farms ; and other appearances of prosper ity. These observations are, however, made from memory, for I find, that I have taken no notes concerning either of these town ships. Dorset contained in 1790, 958 ; in 1800, 1,286 ; in 1810, 1,294 inhabitants. Harwich contained in 1790, 165; in 1800, 153; in 1810, 209 inhabitants. Wallingford contained in 1790, 536; in 1800, 912; in 1810, 1,386 inhabitants. Clarendon contained in 1790, 1,478 ; in 1800, 1,789 ; in 1810, 1,797 inhabitants. During this journey, we lodged at an inn, where we found, what I never before saw in New-England, a considerable number of men, assembled on Saturday evening, for the ordinary purpos es of tavern-haunting. They continued their orgies until near two o'clock in the morning ; scarcely permitting us to sleep at all. Early the next morning, these wretches assembled again, for their Sunday morning dram, when we left the inn, and went to a neighbouring house, as early as possible, disgusted with the manners of so irreligious a family. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER V. Rutland — Judge Williams — Pittsford — Brandon — Leicester — Salisbury — Middle bury — Marble quarry — Middlebury College — Woodstock — Barnard—- Stock- bridge — Rochester — Hancock — Riptou. Dear Sir, The settlement of Rutland commenced about the year 1 785 ; and furnishes a very honourable proof of the industry, and enter prise, of the inhabitants. The situation is a beautiful plain, in a handsome, open expansion, at a sufficient distance from the Green Mountains to furnish a fine, uncrowded view of them, and limit ed on the West, very pleasantly, by a range of hills, moderately elevated. The soil of Rutland is somewhat inferiour to that of Benning ton ; but is still excellent. Iron ore is found, extensively, both here, and in the neighbourhood ; as is also pipe clay ; of which, it is said, crucibles have been successfully formed. The town ship is settled, throughout, in scattered plantations. The town consists, principally, of a single street, not far from a mile in length. Several of the houses are handsome ; and the whole group well-appearing. The church, which was early erected, is an ordinary building ; and the court-house (for Rutland is a Coun ty town) decent. Every thing, indeed, wears the appearance of ease and prosperity. We spent our time very agreeably at the house of Judge Wil liams, until Friday morning. This gentleman being since dead, it will not be improper to remark, that he raised himself by the dint of his own well-directed efforts, to a useful station, and a Very respectable character, in society. Plain and unaffected in his manners, he possessed a sound understanding, immovable in tegrity, and an elevated public spirit. Perhaps no man in the circle, in which he lived, enjoyed more entirely the confidence of his countrymen. A little before his death he was honoured with a numerous suffrage, as a candidate for a seat in the National Le- LETTER V. 413 gislature. He died of an injury, received by being thrown out of his sleigh. In his life, and in his death, he exhibited unquestion ed proofs of genuine piety, and has left behind him an unstained and honourable character. Rutland contains two parishes. West-Rutland, the second parish, is remarkable for having a regular minister, who is a man of colour. This is the first instance of the kind, which has ever existed in New-England. Rutland contained, in the year 1790, 1,407 inhabitants; in 1800, 2,125 ; and, in 1810, 2,379. We left Rutland on Friday morning ; and rode to Middlebury, through Pittsford, Brandon, Leicester, and Salisbury : thirty-two miles. The road lies wholly along Otter Creek. It is little wrought, and of course indifferent; and the last part of the distance for about eight miles, was to us dangerous. The soil, here, is clay ; and the season had been wet. Wherever the water lies, and particularly wherever a rill crosses the path, it becomes spee dily soft, and ultimately a quagmire ; the sides of which are per pendicular, like those of a pit. Into these places a horse de scends as suddenly, as into a crack in a sheet of ice ; and ex poses both himself and his rider to the most dangerous evils. We left Rutland late in the morning ; and were obliged to ac complish this part of our journey in the night. The heavens were overcast with clouds ; the darkness was early, and intense ; and our road passed through a thick forest. With a snail-like progress, therefore, we trembled through this part of our way un til we arrived at Middlebury. We crossed the skirts of the towns, mentioned above. In Pittsford we met with a few good farmers' houses. In the oth ers, Brandon, Leicester, and Salisbury, log-houses, which we had hardly seen at all since we entered the State, except in the defile between Manchester and Rutland, began to multiply upon us. Barns also, causeys, and bridges, constructed of the same mate rial, and other proofs of an incipient cultivation, were compara tively numerous. Pines abounded on the road ; and the soil was chiefly light, and indifferent. Vol. II. 53 414 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. Pittsford contained in 1790, 850, in 1800, 1,413, in 1810, 1,936 inhabitants. Brandon contained in 1790, 637; in 1800, 1,075; in 1810, 1,375 inhabitants. Leicester contained in 1790, 343 ; in 1800, 522 ; in 1810, 609 inhabitants. Salisbury contained in 1790, 446; in 1800, 644 ; in 1810, 709 inhabitants. We arrived at Middlebury in the evening. Middlebury, the shire-town of the County of Addison, lies on both sides of Otter Creek. This river rises in Bromley, on the Jfarth side of the County of Bennington ; and runs North-West a course of ninety miles; crossing the Counties of Rutland and Ad dison, and discharges its waters into Lake Champlain. It is nav igable to the foot of the falls in Vergennes, eight miles, for sloops of seventy tons. Above these falls, eight miles farther, and above the falls at Middlebury, to Rutland, it is boatable. At Middle bury it is from twelve to eighteen rods wide ; and at Vergennes thirty-eight Above Middlebury the current is remarkably slug gish : and the banks low, unpleasant, and often overflowed. Both the stream, and its borders were to my eye wild, solitary, and gloomy. The Savages, employed by the French government to make incursions into the Western parts of New-England, went up this river to its source; and then down, either West, or Deerfield, river. They could not have chosen a rout, better suited to the gloomy purposes, and lowering revenge, of a Savage bosom. The scenery, which struck me so forcibly, will, however, vanish with the increasing settlement of the country ; and the river itself, in consequence of a cut, which has since been made in the Middle bury falls, will less frequently overflow its banks, and exhibit a more sprightly current. The township of Middlebury began to be settled about the year 1788 in scattered plantations. About 1794 the inhabitants began to build a village on both sides of the river, at the falls in the North-West part of the township. The number of houses, when we were on the spot, was perhaps thirty. Several of them were pretty buildings. LETTER V. 415 The soil of Middlebury, and of a large part of this State on the Western side of the mountains, is clay, of a soft and friable tex ture, and of a light brown hue, often faintly tinged with red. Clay to me, is always gloomy and disagreeable. In wet seasons every' rain converts it into mud. Whenever the weather is dry, it is pulverized wherever mankind live, and move : and the dust, be ing very fine and light, rises with every wind ; fills the air with clouds ; covers the houses, and soils the clothes, with a dingy, dir ty appearance. When the surface of well-made roads has become hard, a slight rain makes them so slippery, as to be impassable with safety, unless with horses corked in the same manner, as when they are to travel on ice. The clay here, however, is ex tremely productive ; and yields grass, wheat, and almost every other object of agriculture, found in this climate. The falls, at this place, descend twenty-one feet perpendicu larly ; and are formed by a ledge of marble. The rapids are continued four miles down the stream. A bridge, built just above the falls, unites the parts of this village. Several mills had been erected at this spot in 1 798. A brew ery was established ; several stores had been built ; a considera ble number of mechanics, and several gentlemen in the liberal professions had chosen this spot as their residence. An acade my also was nearly completed, which was intended to be the germ of a future college. Upon the whole, the seeds of future respec tability were already sown here. The evening of the 30th I spent in company with a number of gentlemen in a consultation concerning this projected seminary, at the house of S. Miller, Esq. They informed me, that a col lege was already incorporated in the State, the intended seat of which was to be Burlington ; that it had been incorporated some years, and was liberally endowed ; but that for various reasons, which were specified, nothing material had been done towards carrying it into operation ; that, although some indecisive efforts had been made by the Trustees soon after their appointment, all its concerns had, for a considerable time, been at a stand ; that there was, now, less reason to expect any efficacious efforts from 416 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. these gentlemen, than there had been heretofore ; as they them selves appeared to have relinquished both exertion and hope. The gentlemen then explained to me their own views of the im portance of such an institution to their State ; the propriety of making this town the seat of it ; their own intentions ; and the wishes of many respectable people in the State, who coincided with them, in the opinions, which they had expressed to me. When they had unfolded their views, I frankly communicated to them my own; and have since had no reason to complain, that they were disregarded. I will only add, that the local situation of Middlebury, the sober and religious character of the inhabit ants, their manners, and various other circumstances, render it a very desirable seat for such a seminary. I have already remarked, that in the year 1806 I took a second journey into the Western parts of Vermont. I left New-Haven, Tuesday, September 16th, in company with Rev. Mr. S. and Mr. D. both of New-Haven ; and arrived at Williamstown the follow ing Friday. The next day we set out for Cambridge in the State of New-York ; and, having passed through Pownal, Petersburgh, and Hoosac, reached Cambridge in the evening. Very early the next morning, there being no public worship in Cambridge, we rode into Salem ; eleven miles ; and the next day reached West- Haven, through Hebron, Granville, Hampton, Pulteney, and Fair-Haven : thirty-five miles. The next day we reached Mid dlebury, through Benson, Orwell, and Cornwall : thirty miles. In May, 1810, I ascended Connecticut river as far as Windsor. Thence I crossed the country in a new' turnpike road ; and reached Middlebury on the 25th of the month. The country, which I passed between Williamstown and Middlebury, in the former of these journies, I shall have occasion to describe hereaf ter. In the latter I had an opportunity of observing the progress of blossoming on the apple-tree through a circuit of four hundred and fifty miles. When I left New-Haven, the blossoms were on most trees completely opened. At Hartford, they appeared to be about two days earlier than at New-Haven ; at Northampton, about two days later; at Northfield, one hundred and ten miles LETTER V. 41 T North of New-Haven, five days later; at Keene, twelve days later, although Keene is but twenty-one miles from Northfield, and lies in a valley upon very nearly the same elevation. At Windsor, one hundred and sixty miles above New-Haven, they were of the same date as at Keene. On the hills between Wind sor and Middlebury, they were a month later than at New-Haven. At Middlebury, two hundred and ten miles North of New- Haven, the blossoms were only ten days later ; at Stockbridge, (Mass.) seventy-eight miles, fourteen days ; at Litchfield, in Con necticut, thirty-six miles, seventeen. The road between Windsor and Middlebury is generally good. After passing over the hills between Windsor and Woodstock, it ascends for several miles one of the branches of the Water queechy. Thence it crosses another collection of hills to the Southern branch of White river ; and ascends this stream almost to the summit of the Green Mountains. After crossing this ridge, it follows, to the plain below, a branch of Otter Creek, which passes through the township of Middlebury. From the foot of the mountains to Middlebury, it lies principally on a plain. The region between Windsor, and the ridge of the mountains, is principally composed of high elevations, separated by sudden deep, and narrow, vallies, watered regularly by clean and very sprightly streams. The town of Woodstock is built at the junc tion of two branches of the Waterqueechy, at the distance of four teen miles from Windsor ; and is the only town, through which we passed. It is a neat, cheerful settlement, containing a num ber of handsome houses, and ornamented with intervals on both streams. Woodstock is settled throughout, principally in planta tions ; and contained, in 1 790, 1 ,605 inhabitants ; in 1800, 2,130; and, in 1810, 2,672. From Woodstock we passed through the skirts of Bernard, Stockbridge, Rochester, Hancock, and Ripton. The whole country, being composed, however, of the borders of townships, exhibited much the same general face ; except Ripton, which lies on the plain. The forests are beech, maple, &c. The soil, until we began to descend the mountains, was gravelly loam ; and then speedily became clay. Most of this country is, 418 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. however, settled, on the hills ; where the soil yields excellent meadows, and pastures. Maize grows well ; but is sometimes cut off by early autumnal frosts. Wheat and rye, also, prosper where the ground is not too wet. Barnard contained in 1790, 673; in 1800, 1,244; in 1810, 1,648 inhabitants. Stockbridge contained in 1790, 100; in 1800, 424; in 1810, 700 inhabitants. Rochester contained in 1790, 215 ; in 1800, 523 ; in 1810, 911 inhabitants. Hancock contained in 1790, 56; in 1800, 149; in 1810, 311 inhabitants. Ripton contained in 1810, 15 inhabitants. The rocks on the Eastern side of these mountains are chiefly a shining schist ; coarse; of a dull blue; and often stained with iron rust. This kind of stone extends through a great part of the dis tance to the summit of the mountains ; but is interrupted in vari ous places by granite, and sand-stone. The strata were every where oblique. Ten or twelve miles before we came to Middle bury, we saw in several places a species of stone, resembling rot ten-stone. Its colour was very near that of umber, after it is burnt. On the surface the texture was frequently dissolved ; and the decayed parts resembled the substance, called punk, except that it was of a darker hue. On these mountains I observed, for the first time, the mountain elder ; a shrub nOt inferiour in beauty to many of those, which are used to ornament court-yards, and shrubberies. The leaf is of a handsome, deep green ; long, sharply pointed, and denticulated. Its blossom is made up of a very numerous collection of small flowers, forming a ball of an oval figure, and of a sprightly buff. Here, also, I first observed the black-moose bush : a pretty shrub with a rich pulpy leaf, and a tuft of brilliant white flowers at the end of every branch. The berry, produced by this shrub, is said to be pleasantly flavoured. From the summit of the mountains, limestone begins to prevail towards the West. LETTER V. 4I.9 In both these journies, and particularly in the latter, I found Middlebury changed into a beautiful town, consisting of about one hundred and fifty houses. The inhabitants have finished a large and handsome church. The private buildings are generally neat, and in several instances handsome. The town contains a book-store, a printing-office, twelve or fifteen stores belonging to merchants and druggists, and a great number of mechanics' shops. A quarry of marble has been discovered in the bank of the river, just below the bridge ; a continuation of the ledge, which forms the fall. It is both white, and dove-coloured, elegantly variega ted, and of a finer texture than any other, which has been wrought, hitherto,* in the United States. It is sawn, ground, and polished, by water machinery ; and is cut, and carved, with an elegance, not surpassed on this side of the Atlantic. The academy, which I have mentioned above, began to pros per from the time, when it was opened ; and was, in the year 1800, raised by an Act of incorporation into a College. From that time to the present, (1811,) it has continued to prosper ; al though all its funds have been derived from private donations, and chiefly, if not wholly, from the inhabitants of this town. The number of students is now one hundred and ten ; probably as virtuous a collection of youths, as. can be found in any Seminary in the world. The Faculty consists of a President, a Professor of law, a Professor of mathematics and natural philosophy, who teaches chemistry also, a Professor of languages, and two Tutors. The inhabitants of Middlebury have lately subscribed 8,000 dol lars for the purpose of erecting another collegiate building. When it is remembered, that, twenty-five years ago, this spot was a wil derness, it must be admitted, that these efforts have done the au thors of them the highest honour. At the same time, religion has prevailed in this town more than in any other in the State ; and controuls very obviously the man ners, and the character, of the inhabitants, in a degree uncommon and delightful. Its influence is very happily seen in the Col lege ; where the best order prevails, under a discipline, exact in- * 1311 420 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. deed, but mild and parental. Upon the whole, Middlebury is one of the most prosperous, and most virtuous towns in New-Eng land. This township includes but one Congregation ; and, in the year 1790, contained 395 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,263; and in 1810, 2,188. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER VI. Weybridge— New-Haven — Vergennes— Settled by Col. Allen— Prospect from the State-House. Dear Sir, We left Middlebury for Vergennes on the morning of October 1st, 1798, in company with Colonel S , and arrived at 12 o'clock. In this part of our journey we passed through the town- ' ships of Weybridge, and New-Haven ; both settled in scattered plantations. The soil is clay, of a good quality ; and the inhabit ants are in comfortable, thriving circumstances. A part of the road along Otter Creek is good ; the remainder is hilly and rough. The people of Weybridge have lately built a handsome church ; (1806,) and religion is in a flourishing state in this little township. Vergennes is situated on Otter Creek at New-Haven falls ; thir teen miles from Middlebury. It is exactly a mile square ; and was taken from the two townships of New-Haven and Ferrisburgh. When Col. Ethan Allen returned from his captivity, he determin ed to raise up a city in the State of Vermont: and this was the spot which he selected. It was accordingly incorporated, and named Vergennes, after the Count De Vergennes : whom ardent, uninformed, and short-sighted, Americans, at that time, believed to be a friend to this country. It is governed by a Mayor, Alder man, and Common Council. A traveller is compelled to laugh at this freak of Col. Allen, Nothing furnishes any man, whether thinking or unthinking, the least reason to believe, that a city, in the common acceptation of the term, could possibly be raised up on this spot. It was, indeed, intended for the seat of government ; and so are half a dozen other places. Whether any of them will ever become what they so ardently covet ; whether there will be a seat ofgovernment in the State ; or whether the Legislature will continue to roll upon wheels from town to town, as they have hitherto done ; no human foresight can determine. The Legislature itself has been at least equally freakish with the projector of this city ; and seems at present little more inclined to settle, than any other bird of pas sage. It may, as common sense would direct, pitch upon two Vol. II. 54 422 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. of the most considerable towns in the State, one in the neighbor hood of Connecticut river, and the other of Lake Champlain, as the permanent places of its sessions : for example, upon Burling. ton and Windsor. Or it may plant itself, finally, upon the range of mountains, which separates them ; and make the seat of gov ernment disgusting to all, who resort to it, and odious to all, who by their offices are compelled to make it their residence. The claim of this place can be supported by no peculiarly fa vourable circumstances. The country behind it will never come hither for trade. Otter creek is, indeed, navigable to this spot : but it is so winding, as to render the navigation of no importance. The only considerable advantage, found here, is derived from the falls : a most convenient seat for every species of water- works. When I visited this place in 1 798, I found a minister already settled ; and soon after his removal to the Presidency of the Col lege at Burlington, the people speedily settled another. Divine service was celebrated in a house, built here for the accommoda tion of the Legislature. From the cupola of this building a very noble prospect was pre sented to us. Eastward, we beheld the Green Mountains, stretch ing little less than one hundred miles from North to South. West ward, three ranges, rising in parallel ridges beyond Lake Cham plain, the second higher than the first, and the third towering above the second, extended in the same direction through a dis tance equally great. The vast length of these ranges; the loftiness of their elevation ; the wild variety of their summits, here arched, there waving, now obtusely, now acutely conical, and now disdain ing all approach to any regular figure ; the gloomy extent of the for ests, which overspread their bosoms ; the valley between them, expanding over a breadth of thirty, forty, and fifty miles ; and the magnificent lake at the bottom ; constituted a scene of grandeur and sublimity, rarely paralleled on this side of the Atlantic. Weybridge contained in 1790, 175 ; in 1800, 502 ; and, in 1810, 750 inhabitants. New-Haven contained in 1790, 723; in 1800, 1,135 ; and, in 1810, 1,688 inhabitants. Vergennes contained in 1700, 201 ; in 1800, 516 ; and, in 1810, 835 inhabitants. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER VII. Ferrisburgh — Charlotte — Shelburn— Burlington — College — Prospect fro(m Burling ton — Colchester — M'l'ton — Georgia — St. Albans — Swanton — Highgate. Dear Sir, In my journey, in the autumn of 1 806, I explored the State of Vermont through a considerable part of its Northern extent. My companions left me at Middlebury, on Wednesday morning, Sep tember 24th to visit Crown Point. In the afternoon I rode in company with two gentlemen, whom I casually found, and who proved very agreeable companions, to Vergennes. Messieurs S , and D r-, had reached Vergennes before me. We left this place in the morning ; and proceeded to Burling ton, through Ferrisburgh, Charlotte, and Shelburne : twenty miles. These three townships, so far as we saw them, are mere collections of farms. The land in the two former is generally good, and the surface a succession of hills and vallies. What is uncommon, where such a surface exists, in New-England, brooks and springs appeared to be rare. Charlotte is a beautiful township. The hills slope in the most graceful manner ; the vallies are easy and elegant ; the vegeta tion is rich ; and the prospect of the two great ranges of moun tains, the lake and the adjoining country, is highly finished. Few settlements, not farther advanced, present such a collection of fine scenes. The inhabitants of this township are, obviously, ad vancing fast in prosperity. Ferrisburgh, contained in 1790, 481 inhabitants; in 1800, 956; in 1810, 1,647. Charlotte, contained in 1790, 635 inhabitants ; in 1800, 1,231 ; in 1810, 1,679. Shelburne, contained in 1790, 389 inhabitants; in 1800, 723 ; in 1810, 987. The split rock, on lake Champlain, sometimes mentioned in the history of the Revolutionary war, stands immediately West ward of Charlotte. We reached Burlington before dinner. 424 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. Burlington is situated one hundred and forty-three miles North of Williamstown, and two hundred and fifty-five from New-Haven, in 44° 29' North latitude, and 73° West longitude from London. The site of this town is uncommonly beautiful. It is an exten sive slope, ascending gradually from lake Champlain three fourths of a mile. The part of the lake, by which it is bordered, isa noble bay, about four miles in depth, and to the eye an exact semi-circle. The ascent to the East is nearly uniform ; and, ex cept that it is disfigured by two disagreeable ravines, (one of them of considerable breadth and depth) which wind across it from the North-East to the South-West, is unusually handsome. This slope was originally covered chiefly with pines. The soil is coarse, sandy, dry, and warm; furnishing dry streets, and excel lent gardens. Two streets ascend from the lake to the summit of the slope, and, are crossed by others at right-angles. Ulti mately, the whole ground is to be formed into regular squares; and new streets are to be opened as occasion may require. The plan is excellent; and will, I think, be exactly accomplished. An open square is formed in front of the court house, which faces the lake at the distance of about half a mile. A similar square is soon to be formed in front of the college. The principal part of the buildings stand in four groups; one erected on two streets near the water ; a second around the court house ; a third in the neighbourhood of the college ; and a fourth on the North street. The number of houses is calculated at 150; and 100 more are probably scattered through the township, upon farms. Many of them are ordinary buildings ; many of them neat and good ; and several are handsome. The court-house is an indifferent structure ; used at times, both for Courts and religious assem blies, but convenient for neither. The college is a copy of those at Princeton, Providence, and Dartmouth; but is handsomer than either of them. It is 140 feet in length, and of four stories. The number of students, when vve were on the ground, was said to be about thirty. The Presi dent is the only Instructor. The first public Commencement was held about a fortnight before our arrival ; when six students took the degree of A. B. LETTER VII. 425 The commerce of Burlington is greater, I suspect than that of any other town in this State. It is carried on with Boston, New- York, Troy, Montreal, and Quebec. Lumber, floated principal ly to Quebec, is one of the most considerable articles. Burlington is a port of entry. Eleven years since, there was scarcely a house in this town ship, except in Water street, a small number in Second street, and perhaps half a dozen on the farms of the interiour. All these were probably worth less than one, out of several man sions, standing here at the present time. Splendour of landscape is the peculiar boast of Burlington. Lake Champlain, here sixteen miles wide, extends fifty miles Northward, and forty Southward, before it reaches Crown Point ; and throughout a great part of this magnificent expansion is visi ble at Burlington. In its bosom are encircled many beautiful isl ands ; three of them, North and South Hero, and La Motte, suffi ciently large to contain, the first and last one township each, and the other, two ; forming, together with the township of Alburgh, on the point between the bay of Misciscoui and the river St. John, the County of Grand Isle. A numerous train of these islands are here in full view. In the interiour, among other interesting ob jects, the range of the Green Mountains, with its train of lofty summits, commences in the South with the utmost stretch of the eye ; and limiting, on the East, one third of the horizon, declines far Northward, until it becomes apparently blended with the com mon surface. On the West, beyond the immense field of glass, formed by the waters of the lake, extends the opposite shore from its first appearance at the South, until it vanishes from the eye in ' the North-West, at the distance of forty miles. Twelve or fifteen miles from this shore ascends the first range of Western Moun tains ; about fifteen or twenty miles further, the second range ; and, at about the same distance, the third. The two former commence a few miles South of the head of lake George ; one on the East ern, and the other on the Western, side of this water. Where the third commences I am ignorant. The termination of all these ranges is not far from the latitude of Plattsburg. The prospect of these mountains is superlatively noble. The rise of the first 426 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. range from the lake, the ascent of the second far above it, and the still loftier elevation of the third, diffuse a magnificence over the whole, which mocks description. Three of the summits, hitherto without a name, are peculiarly distinguished for their sublimity. Among those of the Green Mountains there are two, in the fullest view from this spot, superiour even to these. One of them, na med the Camel's Rump, the Camel's Back, and the Camel ; the other the Mountain of Mansfield. The latter of these, was by the following expedient proved, not long since, to be higher than the former. A hunter, who had ascended to its highest point put in to his piece a small ball ; and pointing it at the apex of the Camel , the ball rolled out. Both of them are, however, very lofty ; high er, as I believe, than Killington Peak, notwithstanding the defer ence, with which I regard the estimates of Doctor Williams. The peculiar form of the Camel's Back invests this mountain with a sublimity, entirely superiour to any other in this State. Burlington has been'generally thought to be unhealthy. The inhabitants, however, deny this charge. The present year they have been distressed by the dysentery ; which was just termina ting at our arrival. There is nothing in the situation to render it unhealthy, unless it be a low, marshy ground, at some distance, near the lake. From various accounts given by the inhabitants, its surface, especially towards the Jake, must be very different from what it was anciently. Frogs have been dug up here at the depth of fif teen feet. At first, they were apparently lifeless; but, after being exposed for some time to the air and sun, became convulsed and tremulous ; and, gradually acquiring more and more the power of voluntary motion, finally hopped away in full possession of health and activity.* Logs also, and stumps of trees, have been dug up here at various depths, from ten to forty feet ; and this, in some instances, where no discernible alluvion could explain the mystery. About three miles from the Court-house, and within fifteen rods of Onion river, a man about six years since, while digging a well, found a boat, twelve feet below the surface. I tried, but in vain, * Similar facts have taken place in the Stales of Massachusetts, New- York, and Connecticut. LETTER VII* 427 to get a description of this boat. The subject was a nine-days wonder, and was then forgotten. We passed by the well ; but could discern nothing in the ground to distinguish it from that in its neighbourhood. Since this was written, a considerable change has taken place in the people of Burlington. They have settled two ministersl and have formed themselves into two congregations. It may be reasonably hoped, that their efforts will produce serious benefits to themselves, and their posterity. In 1 790, Burlington contain ed 332 inhabitants ; in 1800, 815; and, in 1810, 1,680. Friday afternoon, September 26th, we left our horses at Bur lington ; .and, taking a pleasure-waggon, rode to St. Albans, through Colchester, Milton, and Georgia : twenty-seven miles. The road through Colchester lies on an extensive pine plain, di vided by deep ravines, which streams of no great size have worn down, during a long succession of ages. The descent into these chasms is steep, long, and difficult. Elsewhere we found the road, considering the recency of the settlements, a good one. The soil of, that part of Colchester, through which we passed, was light and sandy. Near the lake, it is said to be excellent. In Milton we passed through a handsome, open valley, covered with a rich soil. The lands in Georgia are still richer, and more beautiful. Those in St. Albans, also, are particularly handsome, and very fertile. We saw a very pretty church in Georgia ; the more beautiful, as it was erected in a country, so lately a wilder ness. The river La Moille crosses the road in Milton. This stream is somewhat less than Otter Creek. It rises in the township of Glover ; and, crossing the principal part of the State, falls into Lake Champlain in Colchester. Its waters, like those of Otter Creek, are tinged with a brown colour. Its course is about eighty miles. The last yellow pines, which we saw in our route, and the last oaks, were on the plains of Colchester. Here, if I mistake not. we saw the last white pines also. All these trees, however, grow not only farther North in this State, but in Canada. The inhabitants of these townships, notwithstanding the recency of their settlements, are generally in comfortable circumstances. 428 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. The climate on this lake is sensibly milder than in the same latitudes on Connecticut river. The spring commences earlier ; the winter later. The snow falls in less quantities ; and the sea sons are, upon the whole, generally more pleasant. Fruits, also, thrive here, which there, in the same latitude, are brought for ward with difficulty. The tender plants are here defended from late vernal, and early autumnal frosts, by mists, exhaled from the lake ; which spread extensively over its borders ; and, returning the heat very gradually to the frozen plants, prevent them from being injured. Colchester contained in 1790, 137 ; in 1800, 347 ; in 1810, 657 inhabitants. Milton contained in 1790, 282; in 1800, 786 ; in 1810, 1,546 inhabitants. Georgia contained in 1790, 340; in 1800, 1,068 ; in 1810, 1,760 inhabitants. St. Albans contained in 1790, 256 ; in 1800, 941 ; in 1 810, 1,609 inhabitants. Swanton contained in 1790, 74; in 1800, 856; in 1810, 1,657 inhabitants. Highgate contained in 1790, 103 ; in 1800, 437 ; in 1810, 1,374 inhabitants. We returned to Burlington on Saturday ; where we continued until Monday morning. Our original design had been to proceed to the forty-fifth degree of latitude ; but we could obtain no other vehicle beside our waggon ; and this we were obliged to return on Saturday. The distance from St. Albans to the line is about six teen miles ; divided between that township, Swanton, and High- gate. The two last townships, we were assured, were copies of those, through which we had passed ; but somewhat more recent ly settled. The surface of Canada, bordering on this part of Vermont, is made up of plains, or easy swells ; both of them fertile. Many New- England settlers have already begun to occupy these lands ; hav ing obtained them bf the government for little or nothing : and their number is yearly increasing. There are also several exten-. sive swamps between the line and St. John's. I am, Sir, yours, Sic. LETTER VIII. Essex— Jericho — Bolton — Waterbury — Observations on the attempts of modem Philosophers to disprove the Mosaic era of the Creation — Onion river. Dear Sir, September 29th (Monday,) we took our horses, and proceeded up Onion river to Middlesex, through Essex, Jericho, Bolton, and Waterbury : thirty-four miles. The road lies wholly along the river, and chiefly on its banks. It is recent, and little wrought ; yet, except where it passes over two or three rough hills, is tole rably good. A small part of the distance it proceeds through for ested ground; most of which was rendered particularly pleasant, by a multitude of beautiful and lofty white pines, with which it was covered. A great part of the tract, through which our jour ney lay, is however, thinly settled, and wears every mark of a re cent colonization : such as houses, and fences, built of logs ; gir dled trees ; stumps ; and fields imperfectly cleared. In Jericho we passed by a beautiful plantation, formerly the property of Governor Chittenden ; now of Major General Chit tenden, one of the members of the American Congress. This day's journey was fraught with a rich variety of beautiful scenery. The river is a pleasant stream, perfectly clear, and strongly resembling the waters of the Saco ; always elegantly winding; cheerful in its current; and awakening the most lively impressions of sweetness, and salubrity. Its borders, also, are lined with intervals, remarkably handsome, and fertile. The crops which were still on the ground, and the remains of those which had been gathered, particularly the stubble of the wheat, were vigorous and abundant. The verdure of the numerous and rich meadows, every where bordering our road, was exquisite. The forest-trees were thrifty, and noble. The hills, presenting, frequently, handsome acclivities, shewed us many rich farms, ad vancing rapidly towards a thorough cultivation. Often behind them, and often rising immediately from the road, objects, invesf- Vol. II. 55 430 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. ed with awful grandeur, were finely contrasted with this smiling scenery. On the North side particularly, a long succession of naked rocks, and stupendous precipices, principally schistus, formed wild, ragged, and magnificent counterparts to the rude mountains on the Eastern continent, as exhibited in plates and descriptions. On the Southern side of the river the mountains are universally forested. Even the Camel's Back, which at little intervals is visible all along this road, and looks down on the re gions below with proud sublimity, is covered with evergreens to its summit. It is impossible for a person, travelling through this cleft of the Green Mountains, not to experience the most interesting emo tions. The unceasing gaiety of the river, and the brilliancy of its fine borders, create uncommon elasticity of mind, animated thoughts, and sprightly excursions of fancy : while the rude and desolate aspect of the mountains, the huge, misshapen rocks, the precipices, beyond description barren and dreary, awaken emo tions verging towards melancholy, and mild and elevated concep tions. Curiosity grows naturally out of astonishment; and inqui ry of course succeeds wonder. Why, the mind instinctively asks, were these huge piles of ruin thus heaped together ? What end could creative wisdom propose in forming such masses of solid rock, and accumulating such collections of bleak and barren mountains ; unfit for habitation, and apparently useless to man? Several thousands of years these piles have already existed ; and have hitherto accomplished no conceivable end, but to shelter the wolf, or the bear; or to furnish a passage, ora den, to the prowl- ' ing savage ; or to yield an asylum to the small and timorous tribes of mankind from the invasions of the powerful and heroic. Wild and mountainous scenes have engrossed the attention of men in all ages. To poets, and among others to the poetical sav age, they have ever been commanding objects ; and have fascin ated the imagination with their rude sublimity, and awful gran deur. In modern days, philosophers, under the influence of a fancy little less engrossed, have explored, these lofty desolate re gions for purposes, which escaped the research of antiquity. They have found, or imagine they have found, in their dark re- LETTER VIII. 431 cesses, the means of elucidating many important and difficult questions of science. From examining the contexture, materials, and relative positions, of the different parts of these masses, they have undertaken to form peremptory decisions concerning the origin, date, and changes, of the globe, and the agents, to which they ought to be ascribed. If we are to believe their declara tions, they have here discovered proofs, that the world was in be ing long before the Mosaic era of the Creation ; and that it was formed in a very different manner, and by very different means, from those assigned by Moses. Recupero is not the only man, who has made a new register of the age of the earth from the information of mountains ; nor is la va the only species of record, whence its Chronology has been derived. Yet I think Recupero had more plausible data for his opinion, than has been found by the whole body of these philoso phers united ; and could allege more satisfactory evidence for the conclusion elicited from him, or perhaps made for him by the in genious Brydone. To the investigation of subterranean geography there are many rational motives, and no objections. The only difficulty in the way of these philosophers is that, which has always opposed the pleasant employment of making theories. The facts are either too few, or too imperfectly known, to furnish a solid basis for their systems. Hence, it frequently happens, that, after the scheme is nicely formed, and splendidly penned, a new fact suddenly starts up to the knowledge of mankind, which, like the stone in the prophecy, smites the magnificent image ; and in spite of the rich ness of the materials, and the firmness with which they were put together, reduces all its gold, and silver, and iron, and brass, to dust. In these wild and elevated regions the fancy of the philosopher is much more awake, than his intellect. The suggestions of his mind, the very arguments which he uses, and the conclusions on which he fastens, instead of being the sound emanations of logic, are mere effusions of poetry ; and need nothing to complete this character, except to be written in verse. Were they thus written, all thinking men would readily per ceive them to be fictions. In the garb of sober prose, and with 432 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. the aid of abstract phraseology, they wear the appearance of sense and wisdom ; and become darling objects to a curious and excursive mind, with as good reason, as Minerva herself could al lege for selecting her favourite bird. Of making inquiries of this nature there is no end. Nor is there any limit to the objections against truth, which such inqui ries will easily furnish. A little child can ask questions, which no philosopher can answer. An atom presents difficulties in the path of investigation, which no philosophy can explain. A vigo rous and adventurous mind will ever discover many things, which escape the attention of others; and will wander with an animated spirit of research, where others are listless, or discouraged. In all its rovings it will regularly seize on those facts, whiph most invite its curiosity, flatter its prejudices, or support, or seem to support, its favourite systems. It will, therefore, incline, of course, one way only, until the flexure becomes by habit too rigid to admit any alteration. Things, which are perfectly equivocal will then furnish strong presumptions in favour of its preconceiv ed dogmas ; and faint probabilities will, by a familiar alchymic process, be converted into demonstrations. The very nature of facts themselves will be misconceived; the evidence, which they present misconstrued ; and the whole current of reasoning divert ed from its proper channel. In these circumstances, a vivid fan cy, fired with the magnificence of great and splendid objects, and lost amid their multifarious complication, will, with the aid of a little ingenious and obsequious logic, build the Universe a second time; and will see all its materials spontaneously arranging them selves to support the visionary fabric. Onion river furnishes several romantic scenes. At Burlington falls, about two miles from the Court-house, it has worn the ledge of limestone, over which it pours in a. torrent, into every wild and grotesque form. Some years since, a man and a boy were driven down these falls. Beyond all probability and all hope, the man escaped with life ; and the boy, without even a wound. At Stanton's bridge, two miles up the stream, it has forced a pas sage through a huge mass of limestone, about fifteen rods in length. The precipices are perpendicular, and lofty. That on LETTER VIII. 433 the South side is from seventy to one hundred feet in height. The river is here about fifty feet wide ; and is said to be seventy feet deep. At Waterbury falls, it has worn a stupendous passage through two mountainous promontories of slate, between six hun dred and a thousand feet in length. The precipices, on both sides, are lofty. The perpendicular height of that on the South, is not less than one hundred and fifty feet. A collection of huge misshapen rocks has here been tumbled into the river ; and, when it is at its usual height, completely covers its bed. The gloomi ness of this passage ; the pile of ruins, beneath which the river runs : the noise of the torrent ; and the solemn grandeur of the precipices ; form a combination of scenery, which a Welsh, or Highland bard would have described with rapture. In Middle sex there is another interesting scene of the same kind : but as we passed it in the evening, 1 was unable to examine it. As this river has most of its course between hills and mountains, it is changed by every copious rain into a desolating torrent. Of its ravages we had many proofs in our journey. The estate of the Hon. Mr. Chittenden is the most beautiful spot on its banks ; and probably one of the most fertile in the American Union. To a person, satisfied with rural solitude, it must be a charming residence. The whole of this day's journey lay on the borders of the town ships, through which we passed. There is a little village at Wa terbury, containing perhaps 30 houses, evidently built within the last four or five years. Essex contained in 1790, 354; in 1800, 730; in 1810, 957 in habitants. Jericho contained in 1790, 381 ; in 1800, 728 ; in 1810, 1,185 inhabitants. Bolton contained in 1790, 88 ; in 1800, 220; in 1810, 249 in habitants. » Waterbury contained in 1790, 93 ; in 1800, 644 ; in 1810, 966 inhabitants. Middlesex contained in 1790, 60 ; in 1800, 262; in 1810, 401 inhabitants. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER IX. Montpelier— Fixed upon as the seat of Government— Berlin— Williamstown— Brookfield — Randolph— Royalton— Sharon — Hartford. Dear Sir, Tuesday, September 30, 1806, we proceeded from Middlesex to Randolph; thirty miles; through Montpelier, Berlin, Will iamstown, and Brookfield. The road for the first six miles still continued on Onion river, and was smooth and pleasant. Then turning to the South-East, it ascends a series of gradual acclivi ties, till it reaches its utmost ascent on these mountains. Thence it proceeds along their sides to the Southern part of Williams town, over a succession of very easy undulations. Here it de scends into Brookfield, about four miles and a half, so rapidly, as to make riding on horseback, throughout a great part of the way unpleasant. The remainder of the distance it lies along one of the head-quarters of White river from its fountain ; and is of course sufficiently level. A great part of this road is a turnpike, smooth, and well made. Montpelier is situated at the confluence of two head waters of Onion river. The intervals on this stream commence at its mouth ; and extend, with few interruptions, to this place. The valley is here large enough to contain a village, of perhaps thirty or forty houses, within a reasonable vicinity. The hills, which are high and sudden, approach so near to the river, as to form a defile, rather than an open valley. About thirty or forty build ings; houses, stores, and shops ; are already erected here. A few other buildings, and among them a State House, are begun. The Legislature of Vermont has lately fixed upon this spot, as the permanent sert of government. The determination is obvi ously unwise ; and must have resulted from very limited, or very prejudiced views. It cannot boast even of a central position. But such a position is in this case of no serious importance, and ought scarcely to be regarded. The first object, aimed at in a LETTER IX. 435 measure of this nature, ought to be a large, and if possible a com mercial town. In such a place, agreeable accommodations may be furnished to governmental agents. Here will ordinarily be found improved manners, extensive information, and acknowledg ed respectability. Hither, also, the stream of business will usu ally run : a circumstance, always convenient to the parties con cerned. By that association of ideas, which is so prominent a character istic of the human mind, a little town, when the seat of govern ment, will always impart its littleness to the Legislature, and to all its coadjutors. Every thing must here exist on a very limited scale. That conversation, which in the hours of leisure, cannot fail of being resorted to as a relief from the fatigue of business, must be confined, and degrading. All busy men must have their hours of relaxation ; and where refined and superiour amusements cannot be obtained, will to a great extent, spend those hours in such as are trifling and contemptible. The character of a town in which a Legislature holds its sessions, will be imparted to its members; and ultimately, to its measures. If this be not good, it will be bad : if it be not honourable, it will be despicable. Montpelier is now so small, as scarcely to furnish either shel ter, or lodging, for the Legislature of this State ; and its situation is such, as to forbid the hope of any future, material enlargement. As Vermont is separated into three distinct parts; the mountains and the countries East and West of them ; and as the mountains can be conveniently passed only through a few clefts ; Windsor and Burlington would undoubtedly be better chosen, as alternate seats of the Government, than any other towns in the State. The inhabitants on one side of the mountains will scarcely be willing to go, always, to the other side : and the mountains them selves can never furnish a proper place for this purpose. These towns must, I think, necessarily become superiour in wealth, and population, to any other. Both of them admit of convenient ac cess : and the character of the inhabitants will be such, as not to detract from the proper respectability of the Government. 436 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. The township of Montpelier is extensively settled by farmers. The number of its inhabitants, in 1790, was 118 ; in 1800, 889 ; and, in 1810, 1,877. It ought to have been observed, that the houses along Onion river are sensibly inferiour to those, which I have seen in any other part of Vermont, where the cultivation is equally advanced. There are a few exceptions ; particularly at Montpelier. On a soil so productive this would not have been expected. Berlin is a township situated on very high ground, about twen ty miles Eastward of the Camel's Back. The surface is a suc cession of gradual slopes, and open vallies. The soil is good grazing land ; and the township is distributed into farms, recently settled. The inhabitants have built a church on an eminence, about half a mile from the road, Westward : an object the more striking, as it was hardly to be expected, in so new a country. Their number, in 1790, was 134; in 1800,685; and, in 1810, 1,067. On the road from Berlin to Williamstown, we saw the species of cedar, which I have named mongrel cedar. Williamstown lies on an elevation, little if at all beneath that of Berlin. That part of it, through which we travelled, is how ever much more pleasant. The settlements were farther ad vanced; the soil was rich ; and the inhabitants, by the appear ance of their farms and buildings, were in prosperous circumstan ces. From the highest ground on this road there is a most magnifi cent view over the Connecticut Valley ; terminated Eastward by Moosehillock, at the distance of between thirty and forty miles, and North-Eastward at the distance of between-sixty and seventy by the White Mountains. Williamstown is a collection of plantations. In 1790, it con tained 146 inhabitants ; in 1800, 839 ; and, in 1810, 1,353. Brookfield lies on the declension of the same hills ; and is gen erally of the same appearance. The soil on our road was howev er less fertile ; and the face of the country less pleasant. Soon after we entered this township, we came upon one of the head waters of the White river ; and, descending very rapidly, came LETTER IX. 437 soon to the foot of the mountains. Here we entered a narrow, flat valley, presenting a succession of verdant intervals, bordering a clear, prattling stream. The hills, by which it was limited, were, however, neither fertile nor pleasant. At Randolph, which we reached a little before sun-set, we found a small village, built along this brook ; here swollen into a mill-stream. It contains about thirty buildings; houses, stores, and mechanic's shops ; and, what was very welcome to us, a good inn. The principal part of both these townships lies Westward of the road; and was wholly out of view. The country is a contin uation of the same hills, which we passed over in Williamstown, and is generally settled. In the latter of these townships there is a large quantity of iron ore, which is wrought in several forges, and one slitting mill. Wednesday, October 1st, we rode to Hartford through Royal- ton, and Sharon : twenty-seven miles. The road, here, lies uni formly along the banks of White river ; and is every where toler ably good, but in some degree encumbered with sand. The val ley, except at Royalton, where the Western branches of this riv er meet that, on which our journey lay, is seldom more than half a mile in breadth, and often less. The hills on both sides have lit tle to recommend them, either to the farmer, the poet, or the painter. The river is always sprightly, and handsome ; and at Royalton is a stream of considerable size. Its waters, like those of the Saco, and the Hoosac, are remarkably pure, gay, and mur muring. The intervals on its borders are narrow, but frequently rich and beautiful ; and the houses are generally good. All the characteristics of a recent settlement have vanished from this ground. I found this day's journey less pleasant than I had expected. The valley was narrow. The hills were neither grand, fertile, nor beautiful. We were shut up from the world ; and the eye had scarcely an opportunity to wander beyond the unpleasant barriers, which on both sides accompanied it through the day. We were wearied with sameness, oppressed by heat, and almost suffocated by dust. To balance these disagreeable circumstan- Vol. II. 56 438 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. ces, the intervals were generally handsome ; the river always cheerful; and the houses usually neat, with pretty appendages ; awakening every where the conviction, that the inhabitahts were in possession of ease and comfort, and generally of thrift and prosperity. The village of Royalton was peculiarly of this nature. It con sists of about thirty houses, surrounding a well-built academy. Few objects are more cheerful than this little cluster. Just be fore we arrived at it, we were presented, also, with a beautiful expansion, formed by the junction of two branches of White river. Sharon is an exception, of the contrary kind : the soil, the houses, and the prospects, being all indifferent. In the township of Hartford a village has started up within three or four years, in the neighbourhood of several mills, erected at the distance of three miles from the mouth of White river. It is of about the same size with that of Royalton, but less beautiful. A great quantity of lumber, sawn at this place, is conveyed in rafts down the Connecticut. A good bridge has been lately erect ed, here, on White river. This stream has five considerable head waters ; one of which rises in the township of Philadelphia, another in that of Kingston, a third in Roxbury, a fourth in Williamstown, and a fifth in Wash ington. Its course from Kingston is about fifty miles. It is, ev ery where, murmuring, cheerful, and pure. The farmers in all these townships live principally on the hills; the summits of which are fertile. Merchants and mechanics plant themselves in the vallies ; and usually acquire ease and compe tence. Brookfield contained in 1790, 421; in 1800, 988; in 1810, 1,384 inhabitants. Randolph contained in 1790, 892; in 1800, 1,841 ; in 1810, 2,255 inhabitants. Royalton contained in 1790, 748; in 1800, 1,488; in 1810, 1,768 inhabitants. Sharon con tained in 1790, 569 ; in 1800, 1,170; in 1810, 1,363 inhabitants. Hartford contained in 1790, 988 ; in 1800, 1,495 ; in 1810, 1,831 inhabitants. We lodged at an inn on the South side of the bridge ; and the next day, pursuing our journey down Connecticut river, arrived at New-Haven on Monday, Oct. 6th. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER X. New-Haven Falls — Panton — Addison — Forests — Hickory — Equivocal generation of Plants— Major-General Strong— Rev. Dr. Swift. Dear Sir, I will now return from this description of the interiour of Ver mont, to Vergennes, and to the 1st of October, 1798. Mr. L and myself went, with several gentlemen, to exam ine the falls, commonly known by the name of New-Haven Falls, because they lie in that part of Vergennes, which was originally taken from this township. The river, here very deep, descends over a ledge of lime-stone, forty-one feet in height. The preci pice is bold and rough ; and exhibits falling water in every form of grandeur, and in very many of wild, fantastical beauty. A nu merous train of mills, forges, and other water works, are already erected at this place ; and are said to yield a very handsome profit to the proprietors. In the afternoon, we rode to Addison ; fourteen miles ; the three first, the worst road, which I ever saw. The remainder was tolerably good. Of the country I can say little ; having passed most of it in the evening. Panton, the township immediately South of Vergennes, is a very recent settlement ; of which the inhabitants are principally Baptists, said to sustain a good character. In 1 790, it contained 220 inhabitants ; in 1800, 363 ; and, in 1810, 520. Addison, like Panton, is a flat country, along the lake ; but in the interiour is undulating, and in one place mountainous. The soil is principally clay ; and in the Eastern and Northern parts, is rich. The South- Western quarter is lean. The lands, which have here been once cultivated, and again per mitted to lie waste for several years, yield a rich and fine growth of hickory. Of this wood there is not, I believe, a single tree in any original forest within fifty miles from this spot. The na tive growth is here white pine; of which I did not see a single 440 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. stem amid a whole grove of hickory. Similar specimens of an entire change in the forest vegetation are common in many, per haps in all, parts of New-England, where the land has been culti vated, and again covered with wood. This change is commonly attributed by unthinking, as it has often been by thinking, men to equivocal generation : the material elements being supposed to possess a chemical power of originating, and perfecting, vegeta tion, without the aid of seeds. To support the supposition, however, philosophy, although she has frequently adopted it, has never been able to find a single fact, or allege a particle of posi tive evidence. The opinion obviously contradicts all known analogy ; and is sustained only by that broken reed, inexplicabh- tiess. The seeds of vegetables, when lodged beneath that thin stra tum of earth, within' which they germinate, have no apparent tendency to decay ; but continue to possess all their vegetative power through an indefinite number of centuries. When the ex isting forest is cut down, and its seeds are destroyed by cultiva tion, those, which were shed by a more ancient growth, being thrown up by the plough within the limits of this stratum, spring in their turn ; and cover the surface with trees of a new kind. The following facts will throw some light on this subject. A field, about five miles from Northampton on an eminence, called Rail Hill, was cultivated about a century ago. The native growth here, and in all the surrounding region, was wholly oak, chesnut, &c. As the field belonged to my grandfather ; I had the best opportunity of learning its history. It contained about five acres, in the form of an irregular parallelogram. As the savages rendered the cultivation dangerous ; it was given up. On this ground there sprang up a grove of white pines, covering the field, and retaining its figure exactly. So far as I remember, there was not in it a single oak or chesnut tree. Pines were as thick, as they could conveniently grow ; and when I first saw them, about the year 1760, had attained a considerable size. When I last saw them, more than twenty years afterwards, they were large trees ; yet there was not a single pine, whose seeds LETTER X. 441 were, or, probably, had for ages been, sufficiently near to have been planted on the spot. The facts; that these white pines covered this field exactly, so as to preserve both its extent and figure ; and that there were none in the neighbourhood ; are deci sive proofs, that cultivation brought up the seeds of a former for est within the limits of vegetation, and gave them an opportunity to germinate. The regularity, and limits, of the process are en tirely inconsistent with the doctrine of equivocal generation. A respectable farmer in Guilford informed me, some years since, that thirty years before the event, to which I principally refer in this paragraph, took place, his father, while reaping a field of wheat, found a quantity of chess ; which he directed his labourers to reap also, and bind in bundles, to be carried home for fodder. On the day, when the wheat was carried home, it was inconvenient to carry the chess : it was, therefore, thrown togeth er upon a bawk, or head-land. The following night it was drench ed with rain ; and was finally left to rot upon the place. Thirty years after this fact, the field having come by his father's death into the possession of my informant, it became necessary to make a new fence between that, and another bordering upon it ; but as a considerable number of bushes had grown up upon the head lands, on both sides ; he concluded to remove the fence, and break up these headlands. The ground was accordingly clear ed, and ploughed : and on the spot, where the chess had been thrown, there sprang up a new crop of chess, as evenly spread, as if it had been sown by a skillful hand. The Hon. Judge Reeve of Litchfield, told me some years ago, that a farmer of his acquaintance, having sown turnips, and suffer ed some of them to remain on a field, they produced seed, the following year, which was scattered on the ground. For twenty- five years afterwards ; i. e. to the time, when the fact was men tioned to me ; whenever this field was ploughed, turnips in consid erable numbers sprang up in this spot. Mr. Parker, an English gentleman from Yorkshire, who came, some years since, to the United States, as the Agent from the merchants of England to the Government of this country, inform- 442 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. ed me, that a tract of marshy ground on the Eastern coast of Eng land had, some years before, been purchased by several gentle men, and drained. On the earth, which was thrown out of the ditches, cut through it, there sprang up a great quantity of white mustard. As this plant had not been known to grow any where in the vicinity, within the remembrance of any living man ; its ap pearance excited much curiosity. After many schemes to ac count for it, had been proposed, and rejected,' it was found, that, two hundred years before, white mustard had been extensively cultivated on the same spot, by a colony of Dutch settlers. I could easily add other instances to these ; a number of which have fallen under my own observation; but it must be unnecessa ry. If seeds will continue possessed of vegetative life for twenty years, they may, unquestionably, continue possessed of it two hundred, two thousand, or twenty thousand. There can, there fore, be no difficulty in assigning the cause of any phenomenon, like that, which gave birth to this discussion. I will conclude these observations by mentioning a remarkable fact, communicated to me by the Hon. Judge Chipman of Ver mont. This gentleman told me, while I was at Rutland on this journey, that, when he resided at Kingston in the county of Addi son, there customarily sprung up in the cultivated fields, on his estate, an immense multitude of cherry-trees, of a peculiar spe cies. The original forest was here composed of beech, maple, hemlock, &c. and appeared as ancient, as any American forest whatever. It was perfectly destitute of these cherry-trees. As he was walking in a field, newly broken up, and recently plough ed, he observed the infant stems of these cherry-trees, sprung up in very great numbers. His workmen, who believed in the doc trine of equivocal generation, triumphantly asked him, whence he supposed these trees to proceed. Without answering the question, he forced his hand a little distance into the earth ; and drew up a handful of cherry-stones. We lodged in Addison, at the house of Major General Strong. This gentleman, originally and inhabitant of Salisbury in Con necticut, planted himself here before the Revolutionary war. LETTER X. 443 During the early periods of his residence in this township avail ing himself of the market, furnished by the British garrison at Crown Point, and the high prices which they gave for every thing, supplied by his plantation, he became possessed of very hand some property. In that war, he experienced a painful reverse of fortune. His house was burnt ; his cattle were carried off; and his furniture was plundered, by the British. Once he was made a prisoner by the Indians in their service: and both him self, and his family, were shamefully abused. When he had re gained his liberty, he retired to Arlington ; where he took a farm upon lease, and cultivated it until the year 1783. After the peace he returned again to Addison ; and by various business, industri ously and prudently pursed, has raised himself to affluence. The Rev. Doctor Swift, for some time the pastor of Benning ton, spent the last years of his life in Addison. Here he lived in the utmost harmony with his parishioners until his death, in 1 804. Many of them will probably remember him with gratitude throughout eternity. Doctor Swift was one of the best, and most useful, men, whom I ever knew. He possessed an understanding naturally vigorous, respectable learning, sound theological opin ions, eminent prudence, and distinguished zeal, combined in the happiest manner with moderation, benevolence, and piety. Good men loved him and delighted in his society ; and the worst men acknowledged his worth. To the churches, and Ministers, of Vermont, he was a patriarch : and wherever he was known he is remembered with the highest veneration. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XL Orown-Point Fortress — Conduct of the French Government towards the Colonists of the United States, and reflections on its character. Dear Sir, Tuesday, October 2nd, we left Addison early in the morning, and rode to Chimney Point : a mile and a half up the lake. Here we crossed the ferry, half a mile in breath ; and landed at Crown Point. A boy fourteen years old managed the boat. We found nothing in the ferry-house, except naked, half-ruined walls, scraps of furniture, and other melancholy proofs of shiftless poverty. We landed at a redoubt on the South-Eastern point of the pe ninsula, intended to look up the lake, or towards Skeenesbo- rough.* This work was never completed. The wall is of earth, high, and very little decayed ; and the trench, so far as it was finished, is in good preservation. From this place we preceded to the fort, erected here by the British, soon after the termination of the Canadian war. This fortress is irregular in its form ; but is perhaps as near an exact square, as the ground would permit. The walls are sixteen feet high ; twenty feet thick ; surrounded by a trench ; and confidently said to be a mile in circumference. In various places they are decayed. The trench is partly filled up. The bomb-proof, which was extensive, and tbe covered way, a subterranean passage, thirty rods in length, leading to the North shore, are both partly fallen in. There are three bar racks in this work, originally handsome, but now in ruins. This fort, and its garrison, are said upon good authority to have cost the British two millions of pounds sterling. The stone of which it was built, was all blown out of a quarry in the neigh bourhood : and the earth is said to have been brought on shovels by hand. In a very partial degree this may have been true ; but even in this degree is hardly credible. That the expense and labour were very great, will not be doubted by any spectator. * Now Whitehall. LETTER XI. 445 These works were valuable, only, as they controuled the pas sage up and down lake Champlain. The spot is too flat to be defensible; and is perfectly commanded by the neighbouring hills on the West. No human labour, not even the Egyptian py ramids, have been more absolutely useless. From their first erection to the present hour they have never been occupied dur ing a single moment, either in offensive or defensive operations. From the highest part of this fortification, the Green Moun tains present a prospect of grandeur : superiour, I think, to any other. The mountains on the West are seen also with great ad vantage ; but with less than that at Vergennes, Burlington, or the mountains East of Middlebury. The same spot commands a no ble view of the lake, opening to the North with an expanse scarcely limitable to the eye. From the British works we proceeded to the French fort; erected in 1731 on the North-Eastern extremity of the penin sula. These fortificatious were of small extent ; of no great strength ; overlooked by the ground in the neighbourhood ; and entirely indefensible. They were, however, well fitted for their design. Permit me to detail to you, exactly, the thoughts which occur red to me on this spot. At the time, when the American Colo nies were settled, it was a well known, and universally acknowl edged, law of nations, that the discovery of lands in the new world gave an indefeasible title to the nation, under whose author ity the discoverer sailed. Of this law the French availed them selves; whenever it suited their interests ; and, according to their general principles, violated it only when their convenience prompted. Although they had not a shadow of a title to their own possessions in America, beside what was founded on this law, yet for more than a century they pursued without intermis sion, a regular design of exterminating the British Colonists. The lands, which the latter with incalculable labour, expense, and hazard, had converted into a comfortable residence, the former struggled for more than one hundred and thirty years to wrest from them by every effort of force, fraud, and cruelty. In pursu- Vol. II. " 57 446 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. ance of this plan they early passed their own boundaries ; and be gan to build a chain of forts from Canada to the mouth of the Mississippi. Of these fortresses a great part were erected within the acknowledged limits of the British territories. A French fort is always preceded, or followed by a French claim ; and is intended regularly to substantiate that claim against the demands of others.* The memorable moral reason so often urged during the late Revolution by the French government, and its agents, as a vindication of prostituted faith, and unprincipled intrusion; " That it was convenient for France ;" was towards the British Colonies their only rule of action. In conformity to it they bold ly advanced into the Province of New- York ; and erected these works, and those at Ticonderoga, seventy, and ninety, miles without their own boundaries ; at Niagara in the same Colony; at the forks of the Ohio, in Pennsylvania ; and at various other places. By this chain of fortresses they intended to confine the British settlers within limits more and more narrow and by rais ing up a numerous population in the vast regions of the interiour to reduce them, ultimately, under their own power, or drive them into the ocean. Canada and Louisiana ; a fiftieth part of which they were unable to settle, were in their view nothing, so long as there were other regions, the acquisition of which might gratify their ever restless ambition, and gaping avarice. In pursuance of this object they adopted a system of measures perfectly suited to its nature. By that insinuation, and intrigue, for which they have ever been proverbially distinguished, they wheedled the Savages into their designs. t The English Colo- *" New-France, as the French now claim extends from the mouth of the river St. Lawrence : by wliich the French plainly show their intention of enclosing the British settlements. The English in America have too good reason to apprehend such a design when they see the French King's Geographer, publish a map, by which he has set bounds to the British Empire in America, and has taken in many of the English settlements, both in South-Carolina and New- York, within the boun daries of New-France. — Colden, Vol. \.p. 239. t " We have found by more than three score years experience, that we had always lived in perfect peace with our neighbouring Indians, had it not been for the instiga tion, protection, supply, and even personal assistance of the French ; so that in case LETTER XI. 447 nists, they persuaded them, were enemies, combined for their de struction; heretical miscreants, whose extermination was sanc tioned, and demanded, by religion itself. The French, in the mean time, they were taught to consider as their most affection ate friends ; deeply interested in their welfare, and anxiously en gaged to vindicate their rights. Equally were they instructed to regard them as the only genuine supporters of Christianity ; no bly engaged to uphold its cause against the enemies of God. The former part of this lesson a Savage could easily learn by heart ; and, although he understood very little of the latter, yet he read ily believed a Heretic to be a bad man ; to kill whom was not only lawful, but meritorious.* With these preparations they ex cited the Indians to perpetual hostilities against the English Col onists ; and stimulated them to burn their houses, to butcher wo men, and to murder alike the man of grey hairs and the infant in the cradle. To the work of blood, and ruin, they daily quicken ed them by bidding a price for every scalp, which they should any unjust war or breach should happen (which God forbid) we shall look upon the French, and principally the popish Missionaries among them as the main cause thereof." — Governour Shules' letter lo Rolle the Jesuit, Feb. 21s/, 1719. Mass. Hist. Col. Fol. 6. " The French sent some of their wisest Priests and Jesuits to reside among them ; and the Governors of New- York were ordered by the Duke of York to give these Priests all the encouragement in their power. The chief view of these* priests was to give the Indians the highest opinion of the French power and wisdom, and to ren der the English as suspected, and as mean as possible in their eyes. They waited likewise for every opportunity to breed a quarrel between the English and the In dians ; and to withdraw the Five Nations from fighting with those nations that tra ded to Canada. — Colden's History of the Five Nations, Part 1. Ch. 3. — See also page 59 and 60. *A strong specimen of the Christianity taught to the Indians by the Romish priests, and of their own views of religion, is given by Lieutenant Governour Colden in his history of the Five Indian Nations, Vol. 1 p. 207. " About the time of the conclusion of the peace of Ryswick the noted Therouet (an Indian Sachem) died at Montreal. The French gave him Christian burial in a pompous manner : the priest that attended him at his death having declared that he died a true Christian, "For," said the priest, " while I explained to him the passion of our Saviour whom the Jews crucified, he cried out, " Oh ! had I been there I would have revenged his death and brought away their scalps." 448 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. bring ; and, with plentiful supplies of food, and strong drink, feast ed the spirit of slaughter. In the secret chambers of this very fort, dug, as became such designs, beneath the ground, copies of the vaults of abbies and castles, in their native country ; caverns, to which treachery and murder slunk from the eye of day ; those plots were contrived, which were to terminate in the destruction of families, and villa ges, throughout New- York and New-England. By the inhabit ants of these countries, the wretches, who contrived them, had never been injured, even in thought. Peaceable in their lives, and satisfied with the produce of their own honest industry, they asked nothing more than to eat their bread in quiet, and to enjoy without intrusion the blessings, given them by their Creator. Here the price was fixed, which was to be paid for the scalps of these unoffending people. Here the scout was formed ; the path of murder marked out ; the future butchery realized in anticipa tion ; and the captive tortured in prescience, before the day of his actual doom. Here cruelty presided at the Council, and in cold blood feasted on the shrieks, the groans, the gasps, and the agonies of suffering parents, and their slaughtered offspring. Here butchery with a smile organized the system of death, and conflagration ; and with snaky windings led the human wolf through paths, which himself was unable to devise, and to barbar ities, of which he had never before formed a conception. Here was kindled the fire, which ere long blazed to heaven ; and con sumed the houses, the happiness, and the hopes, of thousands, fairly numbered among the best inhabitants on the globe. Here, worst of all, were displayed long rows of scalps ; white in one place with the venerable locks of age, and glistening in another with the ringlets of childhood and of youth ; received and sur veyed with smiles of self-gratulation, and rewarded with the promised and ungrudged boon. Such were some of the thoughts, which instinctively crowded into my mind at the sight of the subterranean chambers, which are now the ruins of this infamous fortress. LETTER XI. 449 Crown Point, notwithstanding the fine prospects which I have mentioned, is a gloomy, melancholy spot. The houses are al most mere hovels : and the few, beggared inhabitants appear like outcasts from human society. Rags and tattered garments, wash ed and hung out to dry, strongly indicated their miserable circum stances. Not a cheerful object, beside the Northern prospect of the lake, and a little verdure thinly dispersed, met the eye. A great part of the surface was overspread by ruined fortresses : the relics of war and destruction, and the monuments of perfidy, am bition, and cruelty. The opposite shore is to the eye wild and dreary. A forest, consisting in a great measure of pines, burnt and blasted, spread beyond the sight. A decayed and dismal house on Chimney Point was the only human habitation in view upon that shore. Beyond the forest rose the Green Mountains in lofty piles of grandeur ; inspiring emotions remote from cheer fulness, and in such a scene harmonizing only with melancholy solemnity. On the West, a chain of hills, unusually ragged and inhospitable, ascends immediately from the lake ; forbidding, ex cept in now and then a solitary spot, the settlement of man. From their wild and shaggy recesses the traveller is warned to expect the approach of the wolf and the bear : and from their rugged cliffs, projecting to the water's edge, the boatman is taught to look for shipwreck and destruction. The property of this peninsula is in Columbia College. Wheth er the pecuniary profits of the Point will ever reach the College, I doubt : and it also appears doubtful whether the literature of the College will ever reach the Point. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XII. Lake Champlain — Healthfulness of its borders — Trade — Bridport — Shoreham — Cornwall — Orwell — Benson — West-Haven — Fair-Haven. Dear Sir, Between ten and eleven we returned to Chimney Point ; and, taking our horses, rode to Shoreham, where we dined. The country along the lake, beginning a little South of General Strong's house, and extending through Bridport, wears the same disagreeable aspect. The ground is hard clay, glistening in the track of the horse and the wheel ; the surface flat and lifeless ; the forest chiefly pine ; and so often burnt, that a great part of the trees are either decayed, or dead. The inhabitants are uni versally poor; and their houses generally log-huts. What in ducements any man could find to plant himself on this ground, it is not easy for me to determine. The climate is sickly ; the soil indifferent ; the water bad ; and the scenery dull and heavy. At the same time, I could not discern the remotest hope of any change for the better. Among other disagreeable objects in this region, the streams are remarkable. Their appearance is singular. The beds, in which they flow, are excessively disproportioned in breadth to the quantity of water ; appearing rather as shallow, flat vallies, than as the channels of brooks and mill streams. One of them I judged to be not less than sixty rods in breadth ; in the middle of which ran, or rather lay, a mass of water, scarcely sufficient to turn an over-shot mill. In the summer, and autumn, they are covered with bulrushes and other rank weeds : while the pool at the bottom, turbid with clay, resembles in colour dirty suds. In passing these receptacles we were saluted by a sweet, sickish ef fluvium, oppressive to the lungs, and extremely dispiriting to the feelings. In the winter, and spring, the streams fill these beds ; and demand very long and expensive bridges ; seriously incon venient, as one would suppose, to the inhabitants. To complete LETTER XII. 451 the dulness of this region, the post road, which formerly passed along the lake, now turns from Shoreham into the interiour. The travelling therefore, has chiefly left this tract : and a stranger has become almost a curiosity. As I am now leaving lake Champlain, I will dismiss it with a few observations. This piece of water extends from Fair-Haven to St. John's in Canada : two hundred miles. Its least breadth is half a mile ; and its greatest eighteen miles. Its contents are estimated by Doctor Williams at 640,000 acres. This is probably very near the truth. From Fair-Haven to Crown Point it is nar row, and in some places shallow ; but of sufficient depth for any vessel, which will ever be needed here. In this division the wa ters are of the same disagreeable colour, which has been mention ed. The shore, where I had opportunity to observe it, is lined with a margin of bulrushes, and the same sickly fetor is found here also. No piece of water can easly be more unpleasant than this part of lake Champlain. At Crown Point its aspect changes in an instant. The depth becomes great ; the water loses its foul appearance ; is pleasant to the eye, and, as I am informed, is sweet and salubrious. Here, also, it extends suddenly to the breadth of four or five miles ; and assumes an aspect of magnificence. Against Ferrisburgh it ex pands suddenly again to the breadth often or twelve miles ; and continues to grow wider as far as Burlington. After this it holds its breadth, generally, until near the forty-fifth degree of latitude. Its depth from Crown Point Northward is great: but I know not, that it has been accurately measured. The principal islands in its bosom have been mentioned above. The waters of lake Champlain are supposed by the inhabitants to have been formerly much higher than at present. This opin ion is probably just ; and may, I suspect,' be applied to every such piece of water, whose outlet does not flow over level ground, or is not confined by a mound of granite, or some other stone of sim ilar hardness. 452 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. The fish in this lake are not, I believe, very numerous. A species of salmon,* as it is called, is caught here ; but is neither fat, nor finely flavoured, nor possessed of much resemblance to the salmon of the New-England rivers. The pike and salmon-trout are also taken here : both of them said to be large, and well tasted. The shores of lake Champlain are generally subject to the fe ver and ague, and to bilious remittents. We found the inhabit ants sick in considerable numbers with the latter disease, and with the dysentery. This sickliness principally prevails along the Southern division. In the Northern division the country is fine; the climate better ; the lake noble ; and the scenery in a high de gree magnificent. About thirty vessels, from thirty to seventy tons, were said to be employed on this lake in the year 1 800 ; i. e. in plying from Skeenesborough to St. John's. The business is increasing. The, foreign commodities, consumed in this part of Vermont, are brought chiefly from Troy, Albany, and New- York. Furs and peltry are procured in large quantities at Montreal, and a few Eu ropean and India goods. The former are transmitted chiefly to Boston. The trade in the latter has, within a small number of years from the present time, (1811) been greatly increased. Whenever Montreal shall become a seat of general importation the commerce of this lake will probably extensively centre in that city. The township of Crown Point, of which the peninsula is an ap pendage, and to which it has given its name of Crown Point, cov ers a considerable tract. Shoreham rises into gradual swells. The forests have been less burned ; the soil, still clay, is richer; the houses are superi our ; and the inhabitants are, in all respects, better situated. You will understand me to speak of the appearance on the road ; the interiour of Bridport, as well as of Addison, being, as I was informed, a desirable country. * But the salmon and other fish are said greatly to have multiplied in this lake within a few years. 1814. LETTER XII. 453 Here we parted with our friend Col. S , who had politely accompanied us forty-eight miles of our journey, and contributed not a little to the stock of our information and pleasure. We rode the same evening to West-Haven ; having travelled thirty- two miles. Our journey lay through the remainder of Shoreham, Orwell, and Benson. The two last of these townships we found rough and unsightly ; the soil clay, of a good quality. In the year 1806 I had a better opportunity of examining these three town ships. As I remarked at the commencement of these letters, the Taghkannuc range passes through West-Haven, and Benson. It is here a collection of h;lls, divested of grandeur, and destitute of beauty. The surface is every where broken ; studded at little distances with tubercles, formed by masses of rocks and smaller stones, swelling suddenly out of their sides and summits. The vallies, also, approximate to the appearance of ravines ; and are sudden, deep, and uncouth. The brooks run in huge furrows, and deep gullies : and the whole country exhibits an aspect, sin gularly corrugated. We saw, however, one handsome farm in the Northern part of West-Haven ; and the Western borders of that township are said to be fertile and beautiful. In Benson a respectable clergyman had been settled eight or ten years. Sometime before we passed through this town, a great part of his parishoners, influenced by the prevailing turbulence of the times, and by the vice which necessarily grows out of that turbulence, became to such a degree alienated from him in their affections, as to make him, not unfrequently, an object of diver sion and insult. A man of sense, learning, and piety; of superi our prudence and unexceptionable life, such as he is, could not be made ridiculous: yet he could be ridiculed. The heart could disrelish his excellence, although the conscience was compelled to approve of his character. The young people, particularly, be came grossly hostile to him, merely because he was a Minister of the Gospel, and a virtuous man. To such a pitch did this unwor thy and licentious conduct rise, that the clergyman was giving up his cure as hopeless, and preparing to take a final leave of the Con gregation. At this moment, He, who has graven his church on the Vol. II. 58 454 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. palms of his hands, produced in this waste a general revival of re ligion. The " still, small voice," which has so often hushed the storm and the whirlwind, was no sooner heard, than the people dropped their animosity against their minister ; vice and licen tiousness fled ; peace, order, and good-will, took their place. This worthy man became at once endeared to his flock ; the church was enlarged by the accession of multitudes ; and all the blessings of christian neighbourhood sprang up in the place of tu mult and confusion. The thought of so happy a change smooth ed all the ruggedness of this untoward country, to my eye, into elegance and beauty; and enabled me to realize what it is for the wilderness and solitary place to be glad, and the desert to rejoice and blossom as the rose. The Southern part of Orwell is distinguished from Benson by nothing, but a general softening of the ruggedness of the country. The Northern part is a handsome tract. The soil is rich ; and, the appearance of the farms, and houses, sufficiently indicates the prosperity of the inhabitants. The country, here, has the aspect of a mature settlement. In this journey we passed through Cornwall ; a township of un common beauty and prosperity, lying North-Eastward of Orwell. It is a fine assemblage of hills and vallies, elegantly arched, and vigorously productive. The landscape is every where pleasing and at the Eastern and Western limits uncommonly majestic : the two great ranges, which I have frequently mentioned, being visi ble here to a great extent, and with high advantage. The in habitants are distinguished for their morals and their piety. Addison contained in 1790, 401 ; in 1800, 734; in 1810, 1,100 inhabitanfs. Crown Point contained in 1 790, 203 ; in 1800, 941 ; in 1810, 1,082 inhabitants. Bridport contained in 1790, 449 ; in 1800, 1,124; in 1810, 1,520 inhabitants. Shoreham contained ' in 1790, 721 ; in 1800, 1,447; in 1810, 2,033 inhabitants. Corn wall contained in 1790, 826 ; in 1800, 1,163 ; in 1810, 1,279 in habitants. Orwell contained in 1790, 778; in 1800, 1,386; in 1810, 1,849 inhabitants. Benson contained in 1790, 658; in 1800, 1,164; in 1810, 1,561 inhabitants. West-Haven contain ed in 1800, 340 ; in 1810, 679 inhabitants. LETTER XII. 455 Wednesday, October 3d, we left West-Haven, and rode through Fair-Haven and then entering the State of New- York, passed through Hampton, Granville, Westfield, and Kingsbury, to Sandy- Hill : thirty-eight miles. Most of the road was tolerably good. Fair-Haven is, generally, a rough, disagreeable township. The only exception to this remark, within our view, was on its south ern limit along Pulteney river ; where there is a small tract of handsome intervals. The hills, particularly one near the river, are remarkably ragged. The soil, also, along the road is sandy and indifferent. The only cheerful object, which met our view before we reached the river, was a collection of very busy mills, aud other water-works. Fair- Haven, in 1790, included West-Haven; and contained 545 inhabitants ; in 1 800, there were in Fair-Haven 411; and, in 1810, 645. Both of these townships are small. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XIII. Account of the State of Vermont — Mode of forming new settlements— Character of the Settlers. Dear Sir, As I am now bidding adieu to Vermont, it will be proper to give you a general view of this State. The State of Vermont is the North-West corner of New-Eng land ; and is bounded on the North by Canada, on the East by New-Hampshire, on the South by Massachusetts, and on the West by New- York, which also forms a little part of its Southern boun dary. Connecticut river washes the whole Eastern limit ; and Lake Champlain the principal part of the Western. Its length in a direct line is about one hundred and fifty-seven miles; its breadth, at the Northern boundary, ninety ; and at the Southern, forty-one: furnishing an area of about 10,240 square miles; or about 6,555,000 acres. It lies between 42° 44' and 45° North Latitude ; and between 1° 43' and 3° 36' East Longitude, from Philadelphia : or between 71° 32' and 73° 25' West from London. The surface of this State, as has been already observed, is cus tomarily divided into three parts ; the mountains in the middle, and the lower, grounds on each side. The area, occupied by these divisions, is not far from being equal. When an European hears mountains mentioned, I presume he naturally associates with the word a collection of naked rocks, partially covered with unproductive earth, sterile, dreary, and desolate. Throughout New-England, and indeed throughout a great part of the United States, the mountains are covered to their summits with a rich soil, and with thick, and, except at great heights, with very thrif ty, forests. The Green Mountains, particularly, are a fertile tract of country ; and with the exception of a few lofty summits, and here and there a rugged spot on their declivities, are every where laid out in townships ; and are filled, or will soon be filled, with inhabitants. A Swiss gentleman, who not long since visited LETTER XIII. 457 the United States, preferred a township on these mountains to any other spot, which he had seen in America. These high grounds are, however, better fitted for grazing than for agricul ture. The country on each side consists of hills, vallies, and plains. The hills are often of considerable height; and several of them are mountainous. The plains are of moderate extent : the sur face being almost every where variant, and undulating. The soil of both these divisions is generally rich; and yields liberally the various productions of the climate. Apples and pears grow well, in the Western division, to the Northern line of the State. In the Eastern division, at least on Connecticut river, we did not find them so prosperous in the same latitude. I am apprehensive however, that this was the result of accidental circumstances. Currants, gooseberries, and other kinds of shrub fruit, will grow easily here ; together with very fine strawberries. Peaches grow as high as Middlebury and Newbury, if I was not misinformed ; but can hardly be said to flourish, beyond the Northern bounda ry of Massachusetts. This State is extremely well watered by small rivers, brooks, and springs. Almost every farm has its rivulet ; and every town its mill-stream. In the Western division the water is, generally, less fitted for culinary purposes than that in the other two ; being impregnated either with lime, or clay. Horses, coming from the other States in New-England, drink it with some reluctance. I know not, that it has been found injurious to health. The water in the other divisions is excellent. From this account it will be seen, that Vermont will naturally become a manufacturing country. Wool, flax, hemp, and iron, are the produce of its own grounds : and cotton its inhabitants can easily procure in any quantities. Streams, and mill-seats, fitted for every kind of machinery, of which water is the moving prin ciple, abound every where ; and the inhabitants are sufficiently ingenious to form, and manage successfully, every engine of this nature. 458 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. The markets, to which the people of this state resort for the purposes of trade are Quebec, Montreal, Troy, Albany, New- York, Hartford, Boston, and Portland. To Quebec they send large quantities of lumber by lake Champlain, and its outlet, the river Sorell. With Montreal they trade for furs, peltry, and some foreign commodities. This business has been lately very much increased. On the Western side of the mountains they derive most foreign goods from Troy, Albany, and New- York. Fatted cattle they drive to New- York, Boston, and sometimes, if I mistake not, to Philadelphia. Horses they sell at New-Haven and Hartford for the West-Indian market. On Connecticut riv er, lumber and other produce is transported to Hartford; and for eign commodities of various kinds are taken in return. Most parts of the State, also, carry on a considerable trade with Bos ton. From the Counties of Orange, Caledonia, and Essex, they resort to Portland ; and from that of Essex, they must, I think, in the end find a profitable market for their cattle at Quebec, and for some kinds of produce at Hallowell in the District of Maine. Vermont has been settled entirely from the other States of New-England. The inhabitants have, of course, the New-Eng land character, with no other difference beside what is acciden tal. In the formation of Colonies, those, who are first inclined to emigrate, are usually such, as have met with difficulties at home. These are commonly joined by persons, who, having large families, and small farms, are induced, for the sake of set tling their children comfortably, to seek for new and cheaper lands. To both are always added the discontented, the enter- prizing, the ambitious, and the covetous. Many, of the first, and some, of all these classes, are found in every new American coun try, within ten years after its settlement has commenced. From this period, kindred, friendship, and former neighbourhood, prompt others to follow them. Others, still, are allured by the prospect of gain, presented in every new country to the sagacious, from the purchase and sale of lands: while not a small number are influenced by the brilliant stories, which every where are told concerning most tracts during the early progress of their set- LETTER XIII. 459 tlement. A considerable part of all those, who begin the cultiva tion of the wilderness, may be denominated foresters, or Pioneers. The business of these persons is no other than to cut down trees, build log-houses, lay open forested grounds to cultivation, and prepare the way for those who come after them. These men cannot live in regular society. They are too idle; too talkative; t90 passionate ; too prodigal ; and too shiftless ; to acquire either property or character. They are impatient of the restraints of law, religion, and morality ; grumble about the taxes, by which Rulers, Ministers, and School-masters, are supported ; and com plain incessantly, as well as bitterly, of the extortions of mechan ics, farmers, merchants, and physicians ; to whom they are al ways indebted. At the same time, they are usually possessed, in their own view, of uncommon wisdom ; understand medical sci ence, politics, and religion, better than those, who have studied them through life; and, although they manage their own concerns worse than any other men, feel perfectly satisfied, that they could manage those of the nation far better than the agents, to whom they are committed by the public. After displaying their own talents, and worth ; after censuring the weakness, and wickedness, of their superiours; after exposing the injustice of the communi ty in neglecting to invest persons of such merit with public offi ces ; in many an eloquent harangue, uttered by many a kitchen fire, in every blacksmith's shop, and in every corner of the streets; and finding all their efforts vain; they become at length discour aged : and under the pressure of poverty, the fear of a gaol, and the consciousness of public contempt, leave their native places, and betake themselves to the wilderness. Here they are obliged either to work, or starve. They accord ingly cut down some trees, and girdle others ; they furnish them selves with an ill-built log-house, and a worse barn ; and reduce a part of the forest into fields, half-enclosed, and half-cultivated. The forests furnish browse ; and their fields yield a stinted her bage. On this scanty provision they feed a few cattle : and with these, and the penurious products of their labour, eked out by hunting and fishing, they keep their families alive. 460 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. A farm, thus far cleared, promises immediate subsistence to a better husbandman. A log-house, thus built, presents, when re paired with moderate exertions, a shelter for his family. Such a husbandman is therefore induced by these little advantages, where the soil and situation please him, to purchase such a farm ; when he would not plant himself in an absolute wilderness. The pro prietor is always ready to sell : for he loves this irregular, adven turous, half-working, and half-lounging life ; and hates the sober industry, and prudent economy, by which his bush pasture might be changed into a farm, and himself raised to thrift and indepen dence. The bargain is soon made. The forester, receiving more money for his improvements than he ever before possessed, and a price for the soil, somewhat enhanced by surrounding settlements, willingly quits his house, to build another like it, and his farm, to girdle trees, hunt, and saunter, in another place. His wife ac companies him only from a sense of duty, or necessity ; and se« cretly pines for the quiet, orderly, friendly society, to which she originally bade a reluctant farewell. Her husband, in the mean titiie, becomes less and less a civilized man: and almost every thing in the family, which is amiable and meritorious, is usually the result of her principles, care, and influence. The second proprietor is commonly a farmer ; and with an in dustry and spirit, deserving no small commendation, changes the desert into a fruitful field. This change is accomplished much more rapidly in some pla ces than in others; as various causes, often accidental, operate. In some instances a settlement is begun by farmers; and assumes the aspect of regular society from its commencement. This, to some extent, is always the fact : and the greater number of the first planters are, probably, of this description : but some of them also, are foresters ; and sometimes a majority. You must have remarked a very sensible difference in the char acter of different towns, through which I have passed. This di versity is in no small degree derived from the original character of the planters, in the different cases. LETTER XIII. 461 The class of men, who have been the principal subject of these remarks, have already straggled onward from New-England, as well as from other parts of the Union, to Louisiana. In a politi cal view, their emigration is of very serious utility to the ancient settlements. All countries contain restless inhabitants; men im patient of labour ; men, who will contract debts without intend ing to pay them ; who had rather talk than work ; whose vanity persuades them, that they are wise, and prevents them from know ing, that they are fools ; who are delighted with innovation ; who think places of power and profit due to their peculiar merits ; who feel, that every change from good order and established society will be beneficial to themselves ; who have nothing to lose, and therefore expect to be gainers by every scramble ; and who, of course, spend life in disturbing others, with the hope of gaining something for themselves. Under despotic governments they are awed into quiet ; but in every free community they create, to a greater or less extent, continual turmoil ; and have often overturn ed the peace, liberty, and happiness, of their fellow-citizens. In the Roman Commonwealth, as before in the Republics of Greece, they were emptied out, as soldiers, upon the surrounding coun tries ; and left the sober inhabitants in comparative quiet at home. It is true, they often threw these States into confusion ; and sometimes overturned the government. But if they had not been thus thrown off, from the body politic, its life would have" been of a momentary duration. As things actually were, they finally ruined all these States. For some of them had, as some of them always will have, sufficient talents to do mischief; at times, very extensive. The Gracchi, Clodius, Marius, and Mark Anto ny, were men of this character. Of this character is every dem agogue ; whatever may be his circumstances. Power and profit are the only ultimate objects, which every such man, with a direc tion as steady, as that of the needle to the pole, pursues with a greediness unlimited and inextinguishable. Formerly the energetic government, established in New-Eng land, together with the prevailing high sense of religion and mor als, and the continually pressing danger from the French, and the Vol. II. 59 462 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. savages, compelled the inhabitants into habits of regularity and good order, not surpassed perhaps, in the world. But since the American Revolution, our situation has become less favourable to the existence, as well as to the efficacy, of these great means, of internal peace. The former exact, and decisive, energy of the government has been obviously weakened. From our ancient dangers we have been delivered ; and the deliverance was a distin guished blessing : but the sense of danger regularly brings with it a strong conviction, that safety cannot be preserved without exact order, and a ready submission to lawful authority. The institutions, and the habits, of New-England, more 1 sus pect than those of any other country, have prevented, or kept down, this noxious disposition ; but they cannot entirely prevent either its existence, or its effects. In mercy, therefore, to the sober, industrious, and well-disposed, inhabitants, Providence has opened in the vast Western wilderness a retreat, sufficiently allur- ing'to draw them away from the land of their nativity. We have many troubles even now : but we should have many more, if this body of foresters had remained at home. It is however to be observed, that a considerable number even of these people become sober, industrious citizens, merely by the acquisition of property. The love of property to a certain degree seems indispensable to the existence of sound morals. I have never had a servant, in whom I could confide, except such as were desirous to earn, and preserve, money. The con veniences, and the character, attendant on the possession of prop erty, fix even these restless men at times, when they find them selves really able to accumulate it; and persuade them to a course of regular industry. I have mentioned, that they sell the soil of their first farms at an enhanced price ; and that they gain for their improvements on them what, to themselves at least, is a consider able sum. The possession of this money removes, perhaps for the first time, the despair of acquiring property ; and awakens the hope, and the wish, to acquire more. The secure possession of property demands, every moment, the hedge of law ; and recon ciles a man, originally lawless, to the restraints of government. LETTER XIII. 463 Thus situated, he sees that reputation, also, is within his reach. Ambition forces him to aim at it ; and compels him to a life of sobriety, and decency. That his children may obtain this benefit, he is obliged to send them to school, and to unite with those around him in supporting a school-master. His neighbours are disposed to build a church, and settle a Minister. A regard to his own character, to the character and feelings of his family, and very of ten to the solicitations of his wife, prompts him to contribute to both these objects ; to attend, when they are compassed, upon the public worship of God ; and perhaps to become in the end a reli gious man. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XIV. Manner of forming new settlements, and character of new settlers continued. Dear Sir, » The settlement of a new country is an object which has not been hitherto described, I believe by any writer. At the same time, it exhibits the character of man, his enterprize, patience, perseverance, and power over this world, every where naturally a wilderness, in a light which cannot be uninteresting to a philo sophical mind. As I have been not a little conversant with this subject, I will here give a summary account of the efforts, by which every part of this country has been changed from a forest into its present appearance. In forming new settlements, it will be easily believed, the plant ers are necessitated to struggle with many difficulties. To clear a farm covered with a thick growth of large trees, such as gene rally abound in this country, is a work of no small magnitude. Especially is this true, when, as is usually the fact, it is to be done by a single man ; and still more especially, when that man is poor, and obliged to struggle with many other discourage ments. Yet this is the real situation of multitudes, who under take enterprises of this nature. When a planter commences this undertaking, he sets out for his farm with his axe, gun, blanket, provision, and ammunition. With these he enters the forest; and builds himself a shed, by set ting up poles at four angles, crossing them with other poles, and covering the whole with the bark, leaves, and twigs of trees, except the South side, purposely left open to the sun and a fire. Under this shelter he dresses his food ; and makes his bed of straw, on which he sleeps soundly beneath his blanket. Here he usually continues through the season : and sometimes without the sight of any other human being. After he has completed this shelter, he begins to clear a spot of ground : i. e. to remove the forest, by which it is covered. This is done in two ways ; girdling, and LETTER XIV. 465 felling, the trees. The former of these I have already described. The latter has now become almost the universal practice : and wherever it can be adopted, is undoubtedly to be preferred. The trees are cut down, either in the autumn, or as early as it can be done in the spring ; that they may become so dry as to be easily burnt up in the ensuing summer. After they have lain a sufficient length of time, he sets fire to them, lying as they fell. If he is successful, the greater part of them are consumed in the confla- ¦ gration. The remainder he cuts with his axe into pieces of a con venient length ; rolls them into piles ; and sets fire to them again. In this manner they are all consumed ; and the soil is left light, dry, and covered with ashes. These, so far as he can, he col lects, and conveys to a manufactory of potashes if there be any in the neighbourhood ; if not, he leaves them to enrich the soil. In many instances the ashes, thus gathered, will defray the ex pense of clearing the land. After the field is burned over, his next business is to break it up. The instrument, employed for this purpose, is a large and strong harrow ; here called a drag, with very stout iron teeth ; resembling in its form the capital letter A. It is drawn over the surface, a sufficient number of times to make it mellow, and af terwards to cover the seed. A plough would here be of no use ; as it would soon be broken to pieces by the roots of the trees. In the same manner the planter proceeds to another field, and to another ; until his farm is sufficiently cleared to satisfy his wishes. The first house which he builds, is formed of logs and common ly Contains two rooms, with a stone chimney in the middle. His next labour is to procure a barn ; generally large, well fram ed, covered, and roofed. Compared with his house, it is a pal ace. But for this a saw-mill is necessary, and is therefore built as early as possible. It will be easily believed, that the labours, already mentioned, must be attended by fatigue, and hardships, sufficient to discour age any man, who can live tolerably on his native soil. But the principal sufferings of these planters, in the early periods of their business, spring from quite other sources. The want of neigh bours to assist them ; the want of convenient implements ; and 466 . JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. universally the want of those means, without which the necessa ry business of life cannot be carried on, even comfortably ; is among their greatest difficulties. The first planters at Haverhill and Newbury, on Connecticut river, were obliged to go to Charles town, more than seventy miles, to get their corn ground ; (there being no mill nearer to them,) and to obtain assistance to raise the frame of every building. At that time there was no road be tween these towns. The travelling was of course all done on the river. Mr. Page, the first settler of Lancaster, on the same riv er, seated himself in that township in 1 766. For several years there was no family, beside his own, within many miles. He al so was necessitated to get his corn ground at Charlestown ; distant more than one hundred and twenty miles ; but at length he re lieved himself from this inconvenience by building a horse-mill. In sickness, and other cases of suffering and danger, these planters are often without the aid either of a physician, or a sur geon. To accidents they are peculiarly exposed by the nature of their employments : while to remedies, beside such as are sup plied by their own skill and patience, they can scarcely have any access. Even to procure the assistance, necessary in the critical season of female suffering, must be attended with no small difficulty. As most of the first planters were poor ; and as many of them had numerous families of small children ; the burden of provid ing food for them was heavy, and discouraging. Some relief they4found, at times, in the game, with which the forests were formerly replenished. But supplies from that source were always precarious ; and could never be relied on with safety. Fish, in .the mild season, might often be caught in the streams, and in the lakes. In desperate cases the old settlements, though frequently distant, were always in possession of abundance ; and, in the mode, either of commerce, or of charity, would certainly prevent them, and theirs, from perishing with hunger. To balance these evils, principally suffered by the earliest class of planters, they had some important advantages. Their land, usually covered with a thick stratum of vegetable mould, was em inently productive. Seldom were their crops injured by the blast, or the mildew ; and seldom were they devoured by insects. LETTER, XIV. 467 When the wheat was taken from the ground, a rich covering of grass was regularly spread over the surface ; and furnished them with an ample supply of pasture, and hay, for their cattle. Beside the abundance of their crops, they had the continual satisfaction of seeing their embarrassments daily decreasing, and their wealth, and their comforts, daily increasing. The value of this kind of property is enhanced by two causes: the labour, which is done upon it ; and the multiplication of settlers in its neigh bourhood. Every good planter, who seats himself in a new town ship, increases the value of every acre, which it contains ; be cause he induces other men to settle around him. Accordingly, the owners of large, unsettled tracts give several farms to individ uals, who are willing first to settle on them, that they may induce others to purchase the remainder. At the same time, every stroke of the axe leaves behind it more than the value of the labour : while the proprietor gathers another rich compensation in cer tain, and abundant crops. A farmer of my acquaintance advanc ed his property four hundred per cent, in twelve years, by placing himself on a new farm. During this period also, the planter is cheered by the continu al sight of improvement in every thing about him. His fields in crease in number, and beauty. His means of living are enlarged.^ The wearisome part of his labour is gradually lessened. His neighbours multiply ; and his troubles annually recede. Hope, the sweetner of life, holds out to him at the same time, brighter' and brighter prospects of approaching ease and abundance. Among the enjoyments of these,people, health, and hardihood, ought never to be forgotten. The toils, which they undergo; the difficulties, which they surmount; and the hazards which they es cape ; all increase their spirits, and their firmness. A New-Eng land forest, formed of hills and vallies, down which the waters, al ways pure and sweet, flow with unceasing rapidity; or of plains, dry, and destitute of marshes, is healthy almost of course. The minds of these settlers, therefore possess the energy, which re sults from health, as well as that, which results from activity: and few persons taste the pleasures, which fall to their lot, with a keener relish. The common troubles of life, often deeply felt by 468 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. persons in easy circumstances, scarcely awaken in them the slight est emotion. Cold and heat, snow and rain, labour and fatigue, are regarded by them as trifles, deserving no attention. The coarsest food is pleasant to them ; and the hardest bed refreshing. Over roads, encumbered with rocks, mire, and the stumps and roots of trees, they ride upon a full trot ; and are apprehensive of no danger. Even their horses gain, by habit, the same resolu tion ; and pass rapidly, and safely, over the worst roads, where both horses and men, accustomed to smoother ways, merely trem ble, and creep. Even the women of these settlements, and those of every age share largely in this spirit. The longest journies, in very difficult roads, they undertake with cheerfulness, and per form without anxiety. I have often met them on horseback; and been surprised to see them pass fearlessly over those dangers of the way, which my companions and myself watched with caution and solicitude. Frequently I have seen them performing these journies alone. Another prime enjoyment of these settlers is found in the kind ness, which reigns among them universally. A general spirit of good neighbourhood is prevalent throughout New-England ; but here it prevails in a peculiar degree. Among these people, a man rarely tells the story of his distresses to deaf ears ; or asks any reasonable assistance in vain. The relief given is a matter, not of kindness merely, but of course. To do kind offices is the cus tom; a part of the established manners. This is seen every where; and is regularly experienced by the traveller ; whom they receive as a friend, rather than as a stranger ; as an object of good will, and not as a source of gain. These things grow naturally out of their circumstances. In ad dition to the humane impressions, acquired by their early educa tion, such offices become peculiarly valuable; and necessary, by their situation. Every case of distress is easily realized by all ; because all have been sufferers. " Miseris succurrere disco," may every new settler say with emphasis, as well as truth. Like sailors, these people learn from the evils of life mutually to feel, and relieve. This vivid sympathy mightily contributes to lighten the evils, and soothe the sufferings, incident to a new settlement : LETTER XIV. 469 and spreads cheerfulness, and resolution, where a traveller would look for little else, beside discouragement, and gloom. Among the pleasures, furnished by the melioration of their cir cumstances, the exchange of their log-huts for decent houses must not be forgotten. Building, particularly with wood, must be cheap, where timber abounds. Within a few years, the industri ous planter finds his circumstances so much improved, that he is persuaded to erect a permanent habitation. This is a change, always bringing with it a train of advantages. The comfort, the spirit, the manners, nay even the morals, of his family, if not of himself, are almost of course improved. The transition from a good house is, by the association of ideas natural to the human mind, a very easy one to good furniture ; a handsome dress ; a handsome mode of living; better manners; and everything else, connected with a higher reputation. That, which may be called the second set of planters, may be considered as regularly superiour to the first : and the third, when there is a third, is superiour to the second. By this time the country has chiefly assumed the aspect of good farming, and reg ular society. You will not understand, that I here intend all which is sometimes meant by these terms. A great difference is made, with respect to the state of society, by the governments, under which the different settlers live. In Massachusetts, where the system was comparatively stable, the character of the rulers well known, the laws wise, and good, and the administration such as compelled respect ; where, in a word, the recent planters were under exactly the same government, as the inhabitants of the old er towns ; a regular state of society was introduced at a very early period. Here it was a thing of course ; and every planter went upon his farm with a full conviction, that no change was to be ex pected in his civil concerns. Every thing here grew up, as a child in a well-educated family grows up, to habits of order, and happy intercourse : and no real chasm existed, unless accidentally, be tween the first excursion into the forest, and the complete popu lation. This subject I will resume in my next letter ; and am, Sir, yours, &c. Vol. II. 60 LETTER XV. State of Vermont— Its settlement — Account of ils Government. Dear Sir, The State of Vermont, and all its interests, came at once into the hands of a set of men, gathered suddenly from many parts of New-England, and in a great measure strangers lo each other. Their education, manners, habits, views, and characters, were of ten very unlike ; and not unfrequently opposed. The men, who, in such a state of things, first gain influence, are the restless, bold, ambitious, cunning, talkative, and those who are skilled in land- jobbing. In established society, influence is chiefly the result of personal character, seen, and known, through the period, in which that character is formed, and the conduct, by which it is displayed. In such society, notwithstanding the corruption of the present world, a man of worth and wisdom will, unless prevented by pecul iar circumstances, be almost always more respectfully regarded, than persons destitute of these characteristics ; and will have a su periour efficacy on the affairs of those around him. But in a state of society recently begun, influence is chiefly gained by those, who directly seek it : and these in almost all instances are the ardent and bustling. Such men make bold pretensions to qualities, which they do not possess ; clamour every where about liberty, and rights; are patriots of course, and jealous of the encroach ments of those in power ; thrum over, incessantly, the importance of public economy; stigmatize every just and honourable public expenditure, arraign the integrity of those, whose wisdom is un disputed, and the wisdom of those, whose integrity cannot be ques tioned ; and profess, universally, the very principles, and feelings, of him, with whom they are conversing. These things, uttered every where with peremptory confidence, and ardent phraseology, are ultimately believed by most men in such a state of society. Ignorant of the true character of those, among whom they have just begun to reside, and knowing that they must necessarily give LETTER XV. 47 ! their votes to somebody, they are pleased to be relieved from un certainty, and still more pleased to find an object of their suffra ges, so entirely coinciding with their own views : never mistrust ing that the amount of all this parade of eloquence, and patriot ism, may be expressed in this little sentence : " Will you please to vote for me?" ^ A considerable number of those, who first claimed, and acquired influence in the State of Vermont during its early periods, were men of loose principles, and loose morals. They were either pro fessed Infidels, Universalists, or persons, who exhibited the morals of these two classes of mankind. We cannot expect, therefore, to find the public measures of Vermont distinguished, at that time, by any peculiar proofs of integrity, or justice. The Constitution of this State was formed Dec. 25, 1777. By that instrument the Legislative power is vested in a House of Rep resentatives, chosen annually by the freemen on the first Tues day of September, and assembled annually on the second Thursday of the succeeding October. Two thirds of their number consti tute a quorum. The Executive power is lodged in a Governour, Lieutenant- Governour, and twelve Councillours ; chosen at the same time, and in the same manner. The Judges of their Courts are appoint ed annually by the Legislature, in conjunction with the Govern our and Council. A person, at all acquainted with the history of Representative government, must see at a glance, that this Constitution is lame and unhappy. A Legislature, formed by a single house, is in dan ger of becoming a tumultuous assembly. The individuals, who compose it, may possess personal respectability : but that charac ter will be chiefly merged, and lost, in their union. The deliber ations of such a body will at times be disorderly, violent, and in decent ; the result of feeling, party, private attachment, and pub lic agitation ; and its decisions will be occasionally partial, and unjust. In a_ single house of legislation the influence of one man, or of a small body of men, will commonly, prevail, at least during short 472 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. periods, whenever it is conducted with art and cunning, and sup« ported with vehement declamation. Some of its members will be intoxicated by the sudden acquisition of popularity, and power; some of them will be bewildered through ignorance ; some of them will be fascinated with the notice of their superiours ; some will be beguiled by insinuation ; and some will be seduced by promises of personal advantage. To trust the important interests of a com munity to such a body, is to launch them upon an ocean, without a compass, without a pilot, and often without a shore. The want of energy in an Executive, is an evil, scarcely less fruit ful. In such a State, a weak and powerless Executive will never be able to awe bad men : but bad men will usually awe the Exec utive. If men are to be protected in their lives, and rights ; if they are to live in peace ; in a word, if they are to enjoy the blessings of civilized society ; such men must be deterred from disturbing either their neighbours, or the public. The Judicial system of this State is not less unhappy. To ob tain the office of a Judge, recourse will too often be had to par ty influence, intrigue, and cabal. When the office is obtained, the incumbent feels himself to be the creature of the party which put him in place ; and knows that at the end of a year he can be annihilated by the same breath, which created him ; that his ex istence as a Judge, or his removal from office, together with the consequent honour, and disgrace, are in the hands of those, by whom he has been appointed ; and that, if he has not sufficient firmness to meet political ruin, he must gratify their wishes, even in his judicial administrations. Of course, he is assailed by the most dangerous inducements to violate his oath of office ; to be treacherous to the interests of the State ; and to be unjust to the parties, who come before him. Into such a situation, in times of political commotion, an honest man will reluctantly enter ; be cause no such man will voluntarily offer himself to the perils of temptation. No man, who places a just value upon reputation, will be found in it ; because he will see his character exposed to destruction. No independent man will consent to become such a tennis-ball of caprice, party, fraud, and corruption. The citi- LETTER XV. 473 zens, as the consequence of their excessive jealousy of their ru lers, and their excessive disposition to retain power in their own hands, must consent to be often judged by men, unqualified for this office, either by knowledge, or by worth. I shall here be probably reminded, that the Supreme Executive of Connecticut, is as feeble, as that of Vermont, and that the Judges of the several Courts in that State are, in the same man ner, chosen annually by the Legislature. I shall further be told, perhaps, that the inhabitants of Vermont are, in a great propor tion, either such as were originally citizens of Connecticut, or children of those citizens. If the observations, which I have al ready made concerning Vermont, and other new settlements, are not considered as a complete answer to the objection, intended in these remarks ; I shall take the liberty to add, that the govern ment of Connecticut is fitted for no other country. In no other country are united the same strong sense of reli gion, the same firm moral habits, the same enlighted education of the whole body of people, the same rivited love of good order, and the same powerful public sentiment, founded on them all, and established at the commencement of the Colony. The men, who originated the police of Connecticut, were a very different class of human beings from those, who formed the system of Ver mont. Intelligence and piety flourished under the fostering care of those, who founded Connecticut. They are growing up in Vermont, in spite of their founders. I observe further, that the weakness of the Executive is un doubtedly a defect in the Connecticut system ; and that the de pendence of the Judges, notwithstanding they are regularly ap pointed, until their resignation or their death, is a very gross defect. I add finally, that the system of Connecticut could not be com menced successfully by the present inhabitants. Our ancestors, with their spirit, and in their circumstances, were able to give it both existence, aud efficacy. We, by the habits which itself has created, are thus far (1807) able, and it is no small honour to us, that we are able, to preserve it. Their intelligence and virtue 474 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. were sufficient to create our institutions, and transmit them to us. Happily, however inferiour the character may be thought, ours are sufficient to keep these institutions alive. In the year 1785 a Council of Censors was chosen; whose of fice was designed as a restraint on this general tendency to disso luteness of administration. Their number is thirteen. They are chosen septennially ; and continue in office one year. These men are to enquire whether the Constitution has been violated ; the legislative and executive powers properly exercised ; taxes equitably levied ; the revenue of the State wisely expended ; and the laws duly executed. They have power to send for persons, papers, &c. ; to pass public censures ; to order impeachments ; and to recommend the repeal of all laws, which are contrary to the Constitution. They may also call a Convention, if they judge it necessary, to alter the Constitution. This Convention must assemble two years after the sitting of the Council : and the alterations, projected, must be published at least six months be fore the delegates are chosen. . That this Institution was well intended is indubitable. Equal ly certain is it, that its efficacy either to remove, or redress, pub lic difficulties can amount to nothing. The Constitution has pla ced all the power of the State in the hands of the Representa tives ; and to their decrees every effort will be opposed in vain. Nor may this evil find a remedy, until the inhabitants have learn ed by the mere dint of suffering, that in order to preserve their freedom entire, they must place in the hands of their rulers a greater portion of their power. Such sufferings, to a considerable extent, the inhabitants have already begun to experience. The manner in which the judicial system is administered, has particu larly excited very serious complaints on the part of all sober men. Their Courts are, in several instances, formed of just such materi als, as accord with the reasoning above, and such, as all persons, versed in the political history of mankind, must necessarily have foreseen. The religious, and of course the moral state of Vermont is im proving. Within five years, preceding the present time,* twen- LETTER XV. 475 ty ministers have been settled in this State; and six, within one year, on the Eastern side of the mountains. Frequent, and con siderable, revivals of religion have contributed not a little to in crease the number of Clergymen, and to change the moral aspect of the country. • These have generally existed with circumstan ces, honourable to the character of the converts, and to the reli gion, which they have professed. Neither enthusiasm, nor super stition, has soiled their profession. Sober, rational, essentially amended in their character, and visibly reformed in their conduct, they have, with very few exceptions, satisfactorily evinced their own sincerity, and the excellence of the christian system. Should this happy influence, so desirably begun, become generally prev alent ; its effect on the good-order, peace, and prosperity, of the State will be such, as to preclude the necessity of all other means of melioration. Upon the whole, the State of Vermont, from the richness of its soil; the variety, and value, of its productions; the salubrity of its climate ; the rapid increase of its population ; the hardihood, industry, and enterprize, of its inhabitants ; the melioration of character, which they have begun;, and the more extensive im provement, rationally promised by the influence of the New-Eng land institutions on the present and succeeding generations ; can not but be regarded as one important nursery of the human race ; and as a country, where a great mass of happiness and virtue may be fairly expected in future ages. Many of the evils, which I have mentioned, will naturally furnish their own cure. Others, the wisdom and moderation of enlightened men will in all proba bility remove. I am, Sir, yours, &c, * 1807. LETTER XVI. Hampton- — Pulteney — Granville — Westfield — Kingsbury — Sandy- Hill — Glen's Falls — Queensbury — Schenectady — Union College — Attack of the French and Indians on Schenectady in 1690 — Rev. Dr. Romeyn — Rev. Dr. John B. Smith — Rev. Robert Smith. Dear Sir, From Fair-Haven we entered the township of Hampton, in the State of New- York. Our road lay along Pulteney river, through a succession of beautiful intervals, divided into a number of valur able farms, and ornamented by several neat houses. The hill immediately West of this river is also, near its Northern termina tion, an elegant piece of ground ; well cultivated, and crowned in a picturesque manner by a church on its summit. The mouth of Pulteney river forms East Bay, one of the Southern termina tions of lake Champlain, and the principal part of the Southern boundary of Fair-Haven. The other parts of the township of Hampton are rough and disagreeable. In 1790, this township contained 463 inhabitants; in 1800, 700; and, in 1810,820. In tiie year 1 806 we crossed Pulteney river, about nine or ten miles from Granville. The township of Pulteney is pleasant, ly ing upon two fine mill-streams ; which, both before and after their confluence are lined with rich and handsome intervals. It includes a well-built village, and a collection of prosperous farms. In 1790 it contained 1,521 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,697; and, in 1810, 1,905. Granville, which is situated immediately South of Hampton, is a much pleasanter, and better, township. A considerable part of it lies on the branches of Pawlet river ; which has its origin in Dorset, in the County, of Rutland, and empties its waters into lake Champlain at South Bay. The houses are built in a scat tered manner ; yet there is a small village, principally on the Eastern side of one of these branches. Its general appearance is that of moderate thrift. It presents a fine view of the range of LETTER XVI. 477 mountains between lake Champlain and lake George. A revival of religion took place here in the year 1806. Granville, like most other townships in the State of New-York, is extensive; and contained, in 1790, 2,240 inhabitants; in 1800, 3,175; and, in 1810, 3,717. We dined at Granville ; and after dinner rode through West- field, and Kingsbury, to Sandy-Hill. Westfield is a very large and unpleasant tract of land. The soil is chiefly clay, and indif ferently fertile ; the surface, composed of hills and vallies, de void of beauty ; the settlements recent, and thinly scattered : the houses chiefly log-huts ; and the inhabitants poor, and unthrifty. To complete the dullness of this tract, the few streams, which we saw were exactly like those mentioned in the description of Addi son, and Bridport. Most of them were successions of puddles, lying in a loathsome bed of clay, between steep, ragged banks, and of the colour of dirty suds. So offensive were these waters, that although distressed with heat and thirst, our horses, whenev er they approached them in order to drink, suddenly drew back with strong indications of disgust. A person, accustomed only to the limped streams of New-England, can form no conception of the disagreeableness of this fact. We ourselves suffered from it greatly : for, although parched with thirst, and faint with the un usual heat, we were unable, for a great distance, to find any thing, which we could drink. Westfield contained in 1790, 2,103 inhabitants; in 1800, 2,502; and, in 1810, 3,110. In this tract we crossed Wood Creek, and entered the Skeenes- borough road, about eight miles below that village. We had ta ken this circuitous course, to avoid that settlement ; which, we were told, was distressed with sickness. For some time our road lay along the Northern bank of this stream ; and became much more agreeable, particularly, as we were sheltered by a continu ed forest from the intense beams of the sun. About a mile before we arrived at Fort Anne, we rode over a hill, jutting into the creek, named Battle Hill. Here the Ameri cans, retreating before the army of General Burgoyne, attacked a Vol. II. 61 478 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. British regiment, commanded by Lieut. Col. Hill, with great spir it; and would probably have taken or destroyed the whole corps, had they not been deceived into a belief, that their enemies had received a reinforcement. At the village of Fort Anne we stopped to examine the spot, where the fortification, formerly known by this name, was erect ed. It was built in order to ' facilitate an intended expedition against Canada in the year 1709; and stood just at the bend, where the Eastern course of the creek commences. It was merely an enclosure of strong palisadoes ; sufficient, however, to check the savages in their incursions from South Bay upon Hud son's river. For canoes and batteaux the creek is navigable to this spot. The stumps of the palisadoes, if I may so call them, were still remaining; and recalled to my mind some of the painful impressions, which it had received concerning Indian ravages in the years of childhood. The village of Fort Anne is built chiefly on a single street, run ning from North to South. The 'houses are recently, and for so new a settlement neatly, built. The inhabitants hope, that this will hereafter be a place of considerable business. From Fort Anne to Sandy-Hill, ten miles; the soil is principal ly clay. About three miles of the road are causeyed with logs : a work of immense labour, performed, if we may trust public ac counts, by the army of Gen. Burgoyne ; but, as I was told on the spot, by the American army. I have also been repeatedly told, and I presume with truth, that this causey was built by the Brit ish and Provincial troops in the last Canadian war. The ground is so miry, that an army could not have passed over it without a causey. In the Revolutionary war the Americans probably re- paired'it : and the soldiers of Gen. Burgoyne may have added to the repairs. The state of this ground has been also exhibited as so savage and difficult, so broken with creeks and marshes, that the army of Gen. Burgoyne could hardly advance more than a mile in a day. There is not a single stream here, of any impor tance. It is further said, that this army was obliged to construct no less than forty bridges. The word bridges, here, must denote LETTER XVI. 479 little passages over rills, of the smallest magnitude : for there is not a single bridge, of any size, on the road. Even with this ex planation, the number must be doubled, if not tripled. The prin cipal difficulty, found here by Gen. Burgoyne, was, I presume, this : the Americans in their retreat felled as many trees, as they could, across the road : and the army was obliged to take this road, because there was no other. To the British soldiers, who were unskilled in cutting timber, the removal of these obstructions must have been a very laborious and difficult work. Had there not been a causey here before this period, the Americans themselves could not have passed through this country : for the marsh, and the forest, must have obstructed their passage as much, as that of the British. But as they are accustomed to labours of this na ture, they think little of them. Hence, before Gen. Burgoyne marched through this tract, the world never heard any thing con cerning the tremendous obstacles, which here so formidably op posed the progress of an army. As to the savage nature of the place ; there is a marsh here, not a whit more embarrassing than marshes generally are : and the forest, elsewhere, is much less shaggy and difficult than a great part of American forests. The causey is in tolerable preservation ; and, with an additional cov ering of earth, would furnish a pleasant road. Kingsbury is a large township, containing, beside other settle ments, two villages: Kingsbury, and Sandy -Hill. The village of Kingsbury is built on high ground, sloping handsomely towards the South-East. From twenty to thirty houses are assembled here, if I do not misremember, around a small, decent church. Their appearance indicates, that the inhabitants are in comforta ble circumstances. An extensive, and in some respects interest ing, prospect is presented on this spot to the eye of a traveller. Sandy-Hill lies about five miles from Kingsbury on the Hudson; where that river, terminating its Eastern course, makes a remark able bend to the South; a direction which it follows from this place to the ocean. The site of the village is a pine plain; ele vated from one hundred to two hundred feet above the bed of the river. It contains perhaps, twenty houses ; several of them 480 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. neat. The two great roads, from the Eastern side of lake Cham plain, and the Western side of lake George, in their progress to wards New- York, unite here ; and make it a place of frequent resort; and some trade. It is often visited by gentlemen and la dies in their excursions to lake George: a scene of pre-eminent beauty, which I shall have occasion to describe more particularly hereafter. We lodged in a miserable inn ; the proprietor of a much better one being occupied in building a house, and unable to receive us. In 1790, Kingsbury contained 1,120 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,651 ; and, in 1810, 2,272. ' Thursday, October 4th, we left Sandy-Hill; and rode two miles and a half up the Hudson, to see the cataract, called from a res pectable man, living in the neighbourhood, Glen's Falls. The road to this spot passes along the North bank of the river. The rock over which the Hudson descends at this place, is a vast mass of blue limestone, horizontally stratified; and, I believe, exactly resembling that, which produces the falls of Niagara. How far this stratum extends Northward and Westward, I am ig norant. Down the river it reaches certainly as far as Fort Ed ward. The river at this place runs due East ; and is forty rods in breadth. Almost immediately above the cataract is erected a dam, eight or ten feet in height, for the accommodation of a long train of mills on the North, and a small number on the South bank. Below the dam the mass of limestone extends, perhaps, thirty or forty rods down the middle of the stream ; leaving a channel on each side. That on the North is about one third of the breadth of the river. That on the South, where narrowest, is perhaps a tenth; and, where widest, is divided into two by another part of the rock. The breadth of both, taken together, is not far from that of the North channel. The part of this rock, which is nearest to the dam, is washed by the stream; and its surface is wrought every where into small figures, resembling shells. A short distance below the dam, it is covered with earth for about twelve or fifteen rods each way; LETTER XVI. 481 and, to a considerable extent, with pines and underwood. Be low the road, which between the bridges crosses this ground, the rock is divided into two arms; with a deep channel between them hollowed out by the stream, and by the weather. One bridge crosses the North channel ; and two, the South ; in a direction from North-West to South-East. The perpendicular descent of the water at this place is seven ty feet. The forms, in which it descends, are various beyond those of any other cataract within my knowledge. All the con-: ceivable gradations of falling water from the mighty torrent to the showery jet d'eau, are here united in a wonderful and fascinating combination. In the channel on the North side, twenty rods in breadth near the dam, and about twelve at the bridge, the great est mass of water descends in four principal streams, divided by three huge prominences of the rock, and in several smaller Ones. The prevailing appearance here, is that of sublimity : as the river descends either in great sheets, or violent torrents. There are, however, several fine cascades in this compartment ; and the effect of the whole is not a little increased by innumerable streams, tor rents, and jets, from the long succession of mills on the North shore. The Southern division of this scene is, however, a still finer ob ject than the Northern. On the North side of this channel the river has worn a ragged, perpendicular chasm through the rock, about thirty feet in breadth, eight or ten rods in length, and fifty or sixty feet in depth. Through this opening pours a single tor rent in a mass of foam; and is joined by ten or twelve currents, rushing from the Southern side with every wild variety of form, and with a beauty, and magnificence, incapable of being descri bed. On the Eastern part of the island, below the road, the water has worn three passages beneath the surface quite through ¦ the rocky points, which border the channel, mentioned above : two, through the Northern arm of the island ; and one, through the Southern. These passages are about three rods in length ; and sufficiently wide, and high, for a man to pass conveniently through 482 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. them. The surface of the rock, above them, is smooth, and en tire. I was at a loss to conceive what cause has produced these passages ; as their direction was exactly at right-angles with the current. In the year 1802, when I visited these falls the third time, I found a fourth passage, cut through one of the sarne arms, in all respects similar to those which I have mentioned. If it ex isted at all in the year 1798, it was so small, that it was not only unobserved by us, but had never been discovered by any of the neighbouring inhabitants. So remarkable a fact induced me to search for the cause; and I soon became satisfied. This stratum of limestone, by means of its numerous crevices, is almost every where pervious to the water ; and is of such a texture, as to be ea sily, and rapidly, worn away by its force. When a cold season succeeds a freshet, a stone, wherever it happens to be wet, is bro ken by the frost; and, as it is evident from the numerous square blocks, here, and throughout this vicinity, into which it has been fashioned by the same cause, is prone to crack perpendicularly to the surface of the strata. Wherever there is a fissure, the water pours through it ; and by the force of the current, and the aid of continual frosts, a chasm is soon formed, of considerable extent. In this manner the whole channel of the Hudson at this" place has been hollowed out. Originally these falls were in the neigh bourhood of Fort Edward : five miles below their present station. During a long succession of ages, the river has gradually worn this deep channel backward to this place. Among other proofs of the facts here asserted, this is one. In the year 1799, 1 visited this spot the second time ; and with a good deal of care drew out lines of every thing material, relative to their figure and appear ance. In my third visit, three years afterwards, I found them so much altered, that the resemblance was in a considerable meas ure lost. The great features were the same : but the smaller ones were, even in this little period, essentially changed. What, then, must have been the efficacy of these powerful agents, during more than forty centuries. The shores of the river, below the falls are wrought, so far as they are in sight, into many forms; smooth, rough, convex, con- LETTER XVI. 433 cave, perpendicular, overhanging, and generally very irregular in their appearance. The whole effect of this scene may be arranged under the heads of grandeur, variety, wildness, and beauty. The grandeur arises from the height, perpendicularity, and raggedness, every where seen, of this immense mass of rock ; and from the dimensions, and force, of the torrent. The wildness is extreme, the variety end less, and the beauty intense. From some pictures, which I have seen, I should believe Salvator Rosa might have exhibited this group of objects with advantage ; but it would demand the whole power of his pencil. Queensbury, through a considerable part of which I passed in the year 1 802, appears to have a lean soil, and to be thinly parcel ed out into very scattered settlements, of a recent date. The number of its inhabitants, in 1790, was 1,080; in 1800, 1,435; and, in 1810, 1,948. From the falls we rode to the upper part of Stillwater ; where we lodged: our journey this day was twenty-eight miles. The first five or six miles we passed over a pine plain, newly, and thin ly settled by a collection of very poor people, in log-houses. We then came again to the river ; and passed, in a good road, through a very pleasant country, which I shall describe hereafter. The next morning we left Stillwater and rode to Schenectady : thirty-one miles ; of which we lost four by our ignorance of the country. The first ten lay along the Hudson in the townships of Stillwater, and Half Moon. Then, turning Westward, we ascend ed the hills ; or rather the brow of the elevated country, which borders the valley of this river. Between this ascent, and Sche nectady, the country is chiefly composed of plains, and very grad ual swells. The plains are covered with yellow pine ; the swells principally with white pine, oak, and hickory. The plains are barren: the swells in favourable seasons yield good crops of wheat, peas, and grass. The three last miles, our journey was on the in tervals of the Mohawk ; and was very pleasant. We arrived at Schenectady about seven. On Saturday a heavy rain commenced with a North-East wind; and continued three 484 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. days. We were, therefore, prevented from pursuing our journey until the following Tuesday ; but had no reason to regret our delay. Schenectady is situated on the South side of the Mohawk : fif teen miles North-West of Albany ; and about the same distance from the confluence of the Mohawk with the Hudson. It is built on an interval anciently overflowed by the river, and now very little elevated above its highest freshets. On three sides it is near ly enclosed by the brow of a lofty pine plain; always an un sightly disagreeable object. The surface, as you would suppose, is level ; and the soil rich. The streets cross each other often, and, in many instances, at right-angles ; yet, from the difference of the distances between some, and the obliquity of other, streets, the eye receives no impression of regularity. The houses are chiefly ancient structures of brick, in the Dutch style : the roofs sharp ; the ends toward the street ; and the architecture uncouth. A great number of them have but one story. There are three churches here : a Dutch, a Presbyterian, and an Episcopal : all of them ordinary buildings. The town is compact ; and one or two of the streets are paved. The number of inhabitants in this township was, in 1790, 4,228 ; and, in 1800, 5,289. The people of Schenectady are descendants of the Dutch planters, mixed with emigrants from Scotland, Ireland, England, and New-England. The government of this city is vested in a Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Council. Schenectady formerly became wealthy by engrossing most of the trade, in furs and peltry, carried on with the Indians. In con sequence of the Revolutionary war, and the settlement of the in teriour country, this trade has for many years ceased ; and with it, that accumulation of property, of which it was the source. Within a few years past the inhabitants have begun to throw off the burden of discouragement, under which they had long labour ed, and to apply themselves to other business with considerable success. Since I passed through this place in 1792, a number of the old houses have been pulled down, and a great number of new LETTER XVI. 485 ones built in the English style. Should this spirit increase ; their wealth, which is still considerable, may become an active capital,. and restore to Schenectady a part of its former prosperity. The morals of the inhabitants, particularly of the inferiour classes, are, extensively, upon a low scale. Among other causes, this is one : The merchandise, which passes into the Western country, is usually embarked, here, on the Mohawk. Of course, the numerous boatmen, employed in transporting it, make this their place of rendezvous : and few collections of men are more dissolute. The corruption, which they contribute to spread among the ordinary inhabitants, is a greater evil than a stranger can easily imagine. In the year 1794, a Seminary was begun in this place, styled Union College : a name, said to be given to it, because men of the several religious denominations united in furnishing the means of its existence. The principal contributors to it were, howev er, the Dutch inhabitants of Albany, Schenectady, and the sur rounding country. These, as I have been informed, agreed, that the College should be located where the largest contributions were made. The people of Schenectady won the prize. This seminary, together with Columbia College in New- York, and all the incorporated schools in the State, is under the super intendence of a Board, styled the Regents of the University of Columbia. A body of Trustees, selected indifferently from every respectable class of citizens, possesses the immediate controul of its concerns. The Faculty consists of a President, and four Professors ;* who perform the same duties, which, in New-Eng land seminaries, are allotted to Tutors. The number of students was at this time forty-seven. f This College is in possession of a philosophical apparatus, lately purchased for £300 sterling. The public commencement is holden in May4 * One has since been added. There are also three tutors. — Pvb. t They amount this year (1819) to upwards of two hundred. — Pub. Jit has since been changed to the last Wednesday in July. Vol. II. 62 486 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. A college for the reception of this institution was at the time of our journey, raised to the base of the third story. It is built of leaden-coloured stone, dug up in the neighbourhood, and fortu nately discovered since the edifice was projected.* The win dows are arched with a brown free-stone, and based with a dark- coloured marble of a fine texture, lately found here also. It is intended to contain a hall, library, a public room for the Com mencement exhibitions, recitation rooms, a philosophical cham ber, and rooms for the residence of the Faculty, and their fami lies. The students are to board, and lodge, in the city. This arrangement must, I think, be , unhappy ; and cannot have been devised by persons, experienced in the management of such a seminary. Private buildings would be far more agreeable resi dences for the families of the Faculty : while the students, loca ted in the college under the eye of their instructors, would be se cured from a multitude of evils, to which, while lodging abroad, they cannot fail of being exposed. The country, from which Union College will naturally derive its students, particularly on the West and North, is very exten sive, and rapidly increasing in wealth and population. Its funds are already considerable : and the State appears disposed to give it liberal aid. The prospects in the near neigbourhood of the city are, in sev eral respects, pleasant. The river is a noble stream ; nine hun dred feet in breadth. The intervals are very handsome. On the North side particularly, directly opposite to the city, there is one of the most beautiful farms, which I have seen ; the property of the Hon. John Saunders. It consists of a spacious and delightful interval, and an extensive tract of upland, declining easily towards the South ; and yields on its various soils most of the productions, found in this climate. At the same time it commands a rich view of the Mohawk, both above and below ; of its beautiful intervals ; of Schenectady, and of the surrounding country. * The college buildings at present are two handsome brick buildings, each two hundred feet long, and four slories in height. The library has about five thousand volumes. The number of alumni from 1794 to 1818, was seven hundred and fifty- nine. — Pub. LETTER XVI. 437 In the year 1690, Schenectady was destroyed by a party of Canadian French, and Indians : most of them Mohawks, whom the French had seduced from their attachment to the English. This party consisted of three hundred men ; and was one of three, sent by the Count De Frontenac to distress the British Colonies. The other two proceeded against New-Hampshire, and the Prov ince of Maine, where one of them, under Hertel De Rouville, destroyed Dover in the manner already related. The body, which attacked Schenectady, was commanded, according to Colden, by Monsieur De Ourville; according to Dr. Trumbull; (for which he quotes the letters of Colonel Schuyler, and Captain Bull,)* by D'Aillebout, De Mantel, and Le Moyn. The Mohawks were, or had lately been inhabitants, of Caghnawaga : a village up the riv er, about twenty-five miles from Schenectady. Of course they had been familiarly acquainted with the town, and often enter tained by its citizens. The French were chiefly what are called Indian traders. They arrived in the neighbourhood on the 8th of February ; when the season was so cold, and the snow so deep, that it was thought to be impossible for an enemy to approach. The French commander sent some of the Indians, as spies, to dis cover the state of the town. These men were seen lurking in the neighbourhood ; and this fact was publickly announced ; but the people were so satisfied of their safety, that they paid no regard to the information. Not even a sentinel was employed to watch the advent of the supposed enemy. This negligence was fatal to them. The French afterwards confessed, that they were so re duced by cold, hunger, and fatigue, as to have formed the resolu tion to surrender themselves prisoners, if they found the least preparation for resistance. But, learning from the spies, that the town was perfectly defenceless and secure, they marched into its centre the following evening; raised the war-whoop ; and, hav ing divided themselves into little parties, broke open the houses, set them on fire, and butchered every man, woman, and child, on whom they could lay hands. " No tongue," says Colonel Schuy ler, " can express the cruelties, which they committed." Some » Captain Bull was on the spot. 488 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. of the inhabitants sought for safety in flight ; and ran naked through the snow into the fields, and forests. Others endeavoured to hide themselves within the town from the fury of their murderers ; but were forced from their retreats by the flames, and either killed or carried into captivity. Sixty-three were butchered in this in human manner. Twenty-seven more were made prisoners. Of those who escaped, twenty-five lost their limbs by the severity of the cold. The cruelties, perpetrated here, were only the customary con sequences of a Canadian irruption. The French stimulated the Savages to every inhuman act ; and, when charged with these fiend-like violations of every law, and every principle, apologized for themselves by declaring, that they were unable to restrain their barbarity. I cannot quit this town without paying a merited tribute of respect to three gentlemen, in whose company we found not a little pleasure, while we were here. The Rev. Doctor. Romeyn was a native of Schenectady. He was educated at Princeton ; was settled in the Dutch church in the year 1766, and continued here in the ministry many years. His mind, originally vigorous, was enlarged by extensive acquisi tions of solid learning ; and his life was adorned with the virtues of the ministerial character. Dignified in his deportment, catho lic in his disposition, zealous and faithful in his labours, eminent for his wisdom, and distinguished for his piety, his character was highly respected throughout this country; and his memory is held in great veneration, wherever he was known ; particularly by the church and congregation, over which he presided. Doctor John Blair Smith was a native of Pennsylvania, brother of President Smith of Nassau Hall, and son of the Rev. Doctor Robert Smith of Pequea, Pennsylvania. He was educated at Princeton ; and took the degree of A. B. in the year 1773. He was first settled in the ministry at Hampden and Sydney, in Vir ginia, in the year 1779; and was, at the same time, made Presi dent of an infant seminary, called Hampden Sidney College. Af ter some time, however, he relinquished his presidency, because LETTER XVI. 489 he found a faithful discharge of its duties incompatible with those of his ministry. In 1791, he was invited to the third Presbyte rian church in Philadelphia. Here he continued until the year 1795 ; when he was chosen President of Union College. His principal inducement to each of these removals was the hope of establishing his health. While he resided here, he actually re gained it ; and in answer to the repeated solicitations of his con gregation in Philadelphia, returned to that city, in May 1799. Here he was seized with the yellow fever ; and died on the 22d of the following August. Doctor Smith was an excellent minister of the Gospel. His understanding, and his acquisitions, were respectable ; his imagi nation brilliant ; his affections fervid ; and his eloquence ardent, impassioned, and persuasive. His character, and life, were, also, in an eminent degree amiable, and exemplary. To the employ ments of a minister he was intensely devoted : and while he gain ed in this office distinguished reputation, he had the satisfaction to see " the pleasure of the Lord" unusually " prosper in his hands." The Rev. Robert Smith was placed over the Presbyterian con gregation in this town, in the year 1796. His character resem bled in many traits that of the gentleman, last mentioned : but he excelled him, and most other men, in amenity and tenderness of disposition, and sweetness of deportment. So engaged was he in discharging the duties of his function, that neither the remonstran ces of his friends, nor the encroachments of disease, could induce him to remit them in any such degree, as a due regard to his health obviously demanded. In an employment so important he scarcely thought, that he could expend his strength too freely. That he was justified in these opinions by his own mind cannot be questioned ; although it cannot be doubted by others, that they were seriously erroneous. To this zeal, cherished by the best intentions, he sacrificed a considerable number of years, through which he might otherwise have lived ; and added his own name to the melancholy list of those worthy men, who have found an untimely grave, because they were in too much haste to do good. 490 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. After Mr. Smith had resided here a few years, finding his health still declining, he accepted a call from the Presbyterian congregation in Savannah, in the year 1801, where, a short time after, he died. He was greatly beloved and respected, wherev er he resided; and will be remembered only with esteem, affec tion, and sorrow. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XVII. Albany— Settled by the Dutch— Observations on publick taste— Trade of Albany— Major-General Schuyler — Greenbush Schodac — Stephentown^ New-Leba- Dear Sir, Tuesday, October 4, we left Schenectady in the morning; and rode to Albany : sixteen miles. The road passes over a pitch- pine plain, nearly a perfect flat, chiefly covered with a forest ; the soil miserably lean ; the houses few, and poor ; and the scene ry remarkably dull, and discouraging. The road also is encum bered with sand ; and, unless immediately after a rain, covered with an atmosphere of dust. Albany is the second town in this State. From New- York it is distant one hundred and sixty miles ; from Boston one hundred and sixty-five ; from New-Haven one hundred and seven ; and from Quebec South by West, three hundred and forty. It was first settled about the year 1612 ; and the spot, where it was afterwards built, was visited by the celebrated English nav igator, Henry Hudson, in 1609. It was first called Beverwyck ; then fort Orange ; then Williamstadt. The name of Albany it received in 1664. Albany was a Dutch Colony ; and, until within a few years, the inhabitants have been, almost without an exception, descend ants from the original settlers. From this fact it has derived its whole aspect, and character. The houses are almost all built in the Dutch manner ; standing endwise upon the street ; with high, sharp roofs, small windows, and low ceilings. The appearance of these houses is ordinary, dull, and disagreeable. The house, first erected in this town, is now standing ; and was built of bricks, brought from Holland. If I were to finish this picture according to the custom of poets and painters, and in obedience to the rules of criticism, by grouping with it animated beings ; I should sub join, that the master of the house, and often one or two of his 492 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. neighbours, are regularly seen, sitting* in a most phlegmatic com posure in the porch, and smoking with great deliberation from morning until night.t The site of Albany is an interval on the Western side of the Hudson, and the brow of an elevated pine plain, rising rapidly at a small distance from the river. The soil of the elevation is clay. Both grounds easily imbibe, and retain, water. The streets there fore, few of which have been paved until very lately, have been usually incumbered with mud, so as at times to render travelling scarcely practicable. When I was in this city, in the year 1792, a waggon, passing through the heart of it, was fairly mired in one of the principal streets. Since that period, an essential change has taken place in Alba ny. A considerable number of the opulent inhabitants, whose minds were enlarged by the influence of the Revolutionary war, and the extensive intercourse which it produced among them and their countrymen, and still more by education, and travelling, have resolutely broken through a set of traditionary customs, ven erable by age, and strong by universal attachment. These gen tlemen have built many handsome houses in the modern English style ; and in their furniture, manners, and mode of living, have adopted the English customs. To this important change the strangers, who within a few years have become a numerous body of the inhabitants, have extensively contributed. All these, from whatever country derived, have chosen to build, and live, in the English manner. The preference, given to the customs of the English, must de scend with increasing influence to their children. In the Eng- * 1798. t That this custom is not new, may be seen in the following passage from the travels of Professor Kalm, June 1749. Speaking of Albany, he says, "The street doors are generally in the middle of the houses, and on both sides are seats, in which, during fair weather, the people sit and spend almost the whole day, especially on those which are in the shadow of their houses. In the evening these seats are cov ered with people of both sexes ; but this is rather troublesome, as those who pass by are obliged to greet every body, unless they will shock the politeness of the inhabit ants of this town.' ' Kalm, Vol. 2, p. 92, 2d edition, Land. LETTER XVII. 493 Sish language all accompts, instruments of conveyance, records and papers employed in legal processes, must be written. The attainment of this language has, therefore, now become indis pensable to the safety, as well as to the prosperity, of every indi vidual. Urged by this necessity, and influenced by the example of their superiours, the humblest classes of the Dutch must, with in a short period, adopt the English language, and manners. Within two generations there will probably be no distinction be tween the descendants of the different nations. Intermarriages are also becoming more frequent ; and will hasten this event. The streets of Albany are, in a loose sense, parallel, and right angled, to the river. The ground admitted, very happily, of a regular location : but, as in other places, this beautiful object was unthought of by the first settlers. Market, Pearl, and State- streets, the principal ones, are straight, and handsome. The two former are parallel with the river; the latter meets them at right angles. The public buildings in this town are a State-house; two Dutch, two Presbyterian, one Episcopal, one German Lutheran, one Methodist, and one Roman Catholic, churches ; a building, con taining the offices of State , two banks ; a prison ; an arsenal ; a hospital; a City Hall; and a Tontine Coffee House. One of the Dutch churches is new, handsome, and ornamented with two tow ers crowned with cupolas. None of the other public buildings claim any particular attention. Since I visited this city in 1792, it has, fortunately I think, been ravaged by two fires, one of them supposed, the other known to be kindled by incendiaries. The tenants of the houses which were burned have in many instances been sufferers, but the town and the proprietors have gained much. The house lots have commanded a higher price than could have been obtained both for houses and lots antecedently to the fires, and the town has already been improved not a little in its appearance and will probably be much more improved hereafter. There are persons who will imagine this to be a matter of little consequence. I wish them to consider for a moment the following hints. Vol. II. 63 494 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. There is a kind of symmetry in the thoughts, feelings, and ef forts of the human mind. Its taste, intelligence, affections, and conduct are so intimately related that ho preconcertion can pre vent them from being mutually causes and effects. The first thing powerfully operated on, and in its turn proportionally ope rative is the taste. The perception of beauty and deformity, of refinement and grossness, of decency and vulgarity, of propriety and indecorum is the first thing which influences man to attempt an escape from a grovelling, brutish character ; a character in which morality is effectually chilled or absolutely frozen. In most persons this perception is awakened by what may be called the exteriour of society, particularly by the mode of building. Uncouth, mean, ragged, dirty houses constituting the body of.any town, will regularly be accompanied by coarse grovelling man ners. The dress, the furniture, the equipage, the mode of living and the manners Will all correspond with the appearance of the buildings and will universally be in every such case of a vulgar and debased nature. On the inhabitants of such a town it will be difficult if not impossible to work a conviction that intelligence is either necessary or useful. Generally they will regard both learning and science only with contempt. Of morals except in the coarsest form, and that which has the least influence on the heart, they will scarcely have any apprehensions. The rights enforced by municipal law they may be compelled to respect, and the corresponding duties they may be necessitated to per form. But the rights and obligations, which lie beyond the reach of magistracy, in which the chief duties of morality are found, and from which the chief enjoyments of society spring, will scarcely gain even their passing notice. They may pay their debts but will neglect almost every thing of value in the education of their children. The very fact that men see good houses built around them will more than almost any thing else awaken in them a sense of supe riority in those by whom such houses are inhabited. The same sense is derived in the same manner from handsomer dress, furni ture, and equipage. The sense of beauty is necessarily accom- LETTER XVII. 496 panied by a perception of the superiority which it possesses over deformity, and is instinctively felt to confer this superiority on those who can call it their own over those who cannot. This I apprehend is the manner in which coarse society is first started towards improvement ; for no objects but those which are sensi ble can make any considerable impressions on coarse minds. On these grounds I predicted to my friends in this town a speedy change for the better in its appearance, and in the character and manners of its inhabitants. I have since seen this prediction ex tensively fulfilled. It will perhaps be asked here, whether all that has been said and believed concerning the virtue of cottages, and the purity of . humble life, is erroneous ; and whether splendour and polish are necessary to sound morals ; whether wealth ceases now to draw luxury, and other vices in its train; and whether the golden mean has, by some strange revolution in human nature, become dan gerous to piety, while ambition and show have, in consequence of a revolution not less strange, actually assumed the province of its foster-parents. To thes.e questions I answer in the nega tive. There are virtuous cottages still ; though their number js now, and always has been, less than it has been supposed bj' the fancy of the poet and the novelist ; and sound morals can now be found where there is neither polish nor splendour. But the de bate is not between cottages and palaces, nor between pover ty and opulence ; it lies between taste and the want of it, be tween grossness and refinement. The mediocrity which has been dignified with the name of golden, and which prevails more extensively in the Northern American states than in any other country, is, in mathematical language, a variable quan tity ; rising and falling, as what is called wealth in any coun try, rises or falls. Its golden nature consists, not in the amount of a man's possessions, but in the relative situation in'which it places him as it respects the extremes of society ', a posi tion equally removed from insolence and meanness. The sta tion to which it gives birth, not the degree of property possessed, the station I mean, in which it induces the man to place himself, is that, which principally renders this mean so valuable. 496 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. In these letters you may observe, that only a single style of building and living has been particularly commended ; viz. that which is neat, tidy and convenient. This is a style always with in the reach of those who possess the mediocrity in question. Where it prevails, I am assured, if my experience teaches me any thing, virtue in every form is much oftener found than with its opposites, vulgarism, grossness and dirt. Persons surrounded by these accompaniments may be sanctified, and therefore may be virtuous : yet, so far as I have observed, they are commonly exuberant sources of vice as well as of wretchedness, and are scarcely less hostile to virtue than to comfort. I have mentioned that only a single style of building and living has been here recommended. Permit me to add, that I am still willing with Demosthenes to have public buildings assume a style superiour to this ; and am not afraid of seeing them even splen did. Yet, Sit modus in rebus. At the head of Market-Street stands the mansion of the Hon. Ste phen Van Renssellaer, late Lieutenant Governour of this State. Mr. Van Renssellaer is the eldest male heir of the first branch of the Rensselaer family, one of the most numerous and respectable in the former province of New- York, and among the most distin guished at the present time. The mansion house in which he resides struck my eye as exhibiting an appearance remarkably comporting with the fact, that, for a long period, it had been the residence of an ancient and distinguished family. The situation though not much elevated is fine, cheerful, and prospective. It is the front of a noble interval in the township of Watervleit, con taining seven hundred acres. East of this interval flows the Hud son; and, beyond it, is seen a handsome acclivity rising from its margin, upon which stands the neat, sprightly village of Bath. The house is large, and venerable, and looks as if it was the res idence of respectability and worth. The hospitality which reigns here has ever been honourable to the successive proprietors. At a small distance from this house Westward is the most ex tensive collection of manufactures which I have seen in the pos- LETTER XVII. 497 session of a single man. The proprietor is James Caldwell, Esq. In these works barley is hulled, peas are split, and hair powder, starch, snuff, tobacco, mustard, and chocolate, are manufactured. I visited them in the year 1792 ; and thought the manner of per forming the business ingenious and happy. In 1794 they were burnt. The loss was estimated at $37,000. Within eleven months they were rebuilt and ready for their respective opera tions. In these works forty boys find employment beside other workmen. The trade of Albany is extensive. It consists in the exchange of foreign commodities for the produce of a large, fertile, coun try; and must, I think, continue to increase through a long peri od. Heretofore the inhabitants pursued a profitable commerce with the Indians, and were for many years still more profitably employed in the lucrative business of supplying successive armies with almost every thing which armies consume. Many of the inhabitants have of course become rich. This has been the fact particularly since the formation of the present American govern ment. I know riot that Albany has ever suffered any serious evils from the savages. I ought not to leave this town without paying a tribute of res pect to the Hon. Philip Schuyler, major-general in the American army during the revolutionary war. This gentleman was born at Albany, in the year 1731, of an ancient and respectable family. In very early life he was distinguished for superiour talents, and an energy and activity almost singular. He was an officer in the army in the war which commenced at Lake George 1755. At an early period of life he became a member of the New- York Legis lature ; and was soon distinguished for his intelligence and influ ence. To him and Governour Clinton it was chiefly owing, that this province made an early and decided resistance to those Brit ish measures which terminated in the independence of the colo nies. When the revolutionary war commenced he was ap pointed a major-general ; and was always an active, useful officer wherever he was stationed. After the retreat of St. Clair from 498 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. Ticonderoga, he contributed largely to the defence of his country by his prudent and vigorous exertions. In the Senate of New- York he contributed probably more than any other man, to the code of laws adopted by this State. Of the Old Congress he was a useful member ; of the New he was a Senator from its com mencement, and was chosen a second time in 1797. He died at his own seat just below Albany, Nov. 18th, 1804. In the year 1790, this city contained 3,498 inhabitants, in 1800, 5,387, in 1810, 9,356. Wednesday, October 11, we rode from Albany to New-Leba non ; and lodged five miles below the spring ; the distance being thirty-one miles. We arrived late ; being prevented from com mencing our journey by some necessary hindrances 'till 1 1 o'clock. After crossing the ferry, we rode over a charming interval at Greenbush, handsomer and more fertile than any other, which I have seen on this river. It extends several miles towards the South; and is divided into beautiful farms, and planted, in a thin dispersion, with houses and out-buildings, whose appearance suffi ciently indicates the easy circumstances of their proprietors. From the excellent gardens, which I have at times seen in this spot, and the congeniality of the soil to every hortulan produc tion of this climate, I should naturally have believed, that the in habitants, together with their neighbours, would have supplied the ' people of Albany with vegetables. Instead of this, they are prin cipally furnished by the Shakers of New-Lebanon : a strong proof of the extreme reluctance, with which the Dutch farmers quit their ancient customs, even when allured by the prospects of su periour gain. The Shakers, I have been informed, obtain by gar dening a revenue, not less than from five to seven hundred pounds, New- York currency, per annum. From this interval we ascended the elevated grounds, by which it is bordered ; and on the acclivity were presented with a very fine view of the city of Albany ; the high lands North of it ; the handsome seats in the neighbourhood; the river; and the pleas ant intervals, by which for a great extent it is bordered on both sides. After we had ascended the hill, we found a long succes- x LETTER XVII. -" 499 sion of gradual swells, resembling those between Stillwater and Schenectady : the soil a mixture of sand and clay, replenished every where with black, friable slate ; and the surface forested with oak, chesnut, pine, &x. This tract is tolerably fertile, and well suited to the growth of wheat. Within five or six miles of the river the country becomes gradually more and more hilly ; and the clay begins to be mixed with loam and gravel. Granite and limestone are found in considerable quantities ; and the forests become chiefly oak and chesnut. Our road, after leaving Green- bush, passes through Schodac, and Stephentown. The princi pal part of this County is the property of the Hon. Stephen Van Rensselaer, from whom it derives its name. There is a small village in Schodac, containing about thirty houses ; and another in Stephentown, of perhaps twenty, stand ing on the border of Kinderhook creek, at the foot of a sprightly fall. The rest of this region is divided into farms, moderately fer tile ; and cultivated by tenants. The houses, which they inhab it, are generally indifferent. Schodac contained in 1790, , in 1800, 3,788, in 1810, 3,166 inhabitants. Stephentown contained in 1790, 6,795, in 1800, 4,990, in 1810, 2,567 inhabitants. I suppose Schodac, in the first census, to have been included in Stephentown. The face of the country, after we left the vicinity of the Hud son, was no where very pleasant ; yet from two sources we deri ved not a little gratification. One of them was a succession of running waters, every where limpid and murmuring. These a New-England traveller would in ordinary cases scarcely notice; as being objects so universally met with in his own country. But we had travelled before we came to Schenectady, one hundred and seventy miles, without finding more than two or three cheer ful streams, beside the Hudson, and the Mohawk : the season hav ing been very dry. To us, therefore, living springs, murmuring brooks, and noisy mill-streams, were delightful ; especially after crossing numerous channels, where water had once flowed ; but where it then lay in dirty puddles, and disgusted the traveller by 500 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. its loathsome effluvia. Nature seemed, here, animated anew. The earth, and the atmosphere, were charmingly freshened : and we finally lost the dull, heavy spirits, which we had derived from the melancholy grounds, opposite to Crown Point, and those which lie between that fortress and Sandyhill. The other source of our gratification was the Catskill Moun tains ; of which we had several very interesting views. We passed through the principal part of New-Lebanon in the night. I shall describe it hereafter; and am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER XVIII. Richmond— West-Stockbridge— Salisbury — Cataract at that placer-Sharon— Amen- ia — Washington. Dear Sir, We left New-Lebanon in the morning ; and pursued our jour ney through Richmond, West-Stockbridge, Barrington, and Shef field, to the North-Eastern corner of Salisbury : thirty miles. That division of our road, which has not been described, was tolerably good. The only disagreeable part of it was the ascent of New- Lebanon mountain, a part of the Taghkannuc range ; which pre sents here a long, steep, and discouraging acclivity. At its foot, on the Eastern side, we entered Richmond, here the Western border of Massachusetts. This township lies in a pleasant valley, bounded on the South by several small romantic mountains, separated by fine openings, beyond which ascends the lofty summit of Taghkannuc at the dis tance of twenty-five miles. Saddle Mountain, at the distance of almost twenty, bounds the view with a still superiour magnifi cence. West-Stockbridge, or, as it ought to be called, Richmond Mountain, terminates it on the East. The valley is universally under cultivation ; and the mountains are forested to their sum mits. The surface of the valley is a handsome scoop. The soil is rich ; the meadows and pastures are covered with a fine ver dure, and the whole scene is ornamented with clumps of trees, prettily set in different parts of the expansion. The houses in Richmond are principally built on the road, termed the Street, and running from North to South four or five miles. They are good farmers' dwellings. The church is a pretty building : and every thing around it wears the appearance of prosperity. Iron ore is found here in various places. Richmond, in 1790, contained 1,255 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,044; and, in 1810, 1,041 : included in a single Congregation. In the first of these enumerations I suspect there is an errour. Vol. II. 64 502 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. West-Stockbridge is a rough township on the side of the Tagh kannuc range and a collection of rude hills connected with it on the East. The soil is principally fit for grazing. The base of these hills is to a great extent marble both white and parti-colour ed principally with blue. The colour of the white is remarkably beautiful and little inferiour in purity to that of snow. I have seen many specimens of white marble from Italy, but both are less white than that which is found here. They are however more beautiful, as being of a much finer texture. Great quanti ties of this stone are wrought here, and exported. The number of inhabitants in West-Stockbridge was, in 1790, 1,113; in 1800, 1,002; and, in 1810, 1,049. Salisbury is the North^Westem township in the County of Litchfield, and of the State of Connecticut. The surface is hilly and pleasant ; the soil rich ; and the produce abundant. It is ex cellent land for wheat as well as for grass. This township contains an immense body of the richest iron ore, and a furnace and forges in which it is cast and wrought. The metal is probably more tenacious than any other hitherto known. Cannon formed of it and of the same weight and cali ber with brass cannon, were some time since proved, in the presence of the late Gen. Hamilton, and found to possess all the requisite strength. Salisbury includes two Congregations, a Presbyterian and an Episcopal; and contained, in 1756, 1,100; in 1774, 1,936; in 1800, 2,266; and, in 1810, 2,321 inhabitants. Friday morning, October 1 2th, we proceeded to Sharon. Our road soon rejoined the Hooestennuc : which here bends about three miles Westward. The ride was delightful. Five miles from the place where we lodged, we saw a magnifi cent cataract in this river. About seventy rods higher up, a rift of rocks, twenty feet in height, crosses the stream, which pours over it in a perpendicular sheet. At one third of the distance from this fall towards the cataract rise two large rocks in the channel, each inclining toward the other in a manner fantastical and singular. At some distance below them a dam is erected ob- LETTER XVIII. 503 liquefy across the river to accommodate a suit of mills and other water-works. A second and very handsome sheet descends from this dam. The cataract is the next object in the train; and is formed by a vast ledge of limestone, crossing the river obliquely from the North-West to the South-East. The length of this ledge is about thirty-five rods, its perpendicular height sixty feet, its front irreg ular, broken, and hanging with a wild magnificence. Here, in a stupendous mass on the Western side, and on the Eastern in every form and quantity of descending water, from the furious torrent, to the elegant cascade, this noble stream rushes with astonishing grandeur, and the most exquisite beauty. The beauty is unrivalled by any cataract which I have seen, except at Glen's falls, and the force, when the river is full, except by those of Niagara. On the ridge there are three small elevations. The Westernmost of these contains earth enough to nourish three considerable trees, and each of the others to sustain one. Noth ing can be more picturesque than these objects in this place. The mass of foam at the bottom, you will easily believe, is in the highest degree tumultuous and majestic. A mist rises from it, in greater quantities, and finer forms, than I have ever seen, ex cept at Niagara. In the year 1792, I was here in the month of May, when the river was full. At that time, both complete, and imperfect rain- bowed circles of coloured light ascended slowly from the surface in a continued succession, and gradually floated away on the bo som of a white, misty cloud, which filled the bed of the river. In our present journey the sun was covered with clouds, and pre vented us from seeing this splendid object. Below the cataract, the water descends with a hasty current about forty rods, and there falls a third time over another rift ten feet. Here two islands unite the three divisions of a second dam, which furnishes the fifth sheet within this little distance. Still further down, the river is uniformly a hurrying rapid for fifty or sixty rods, foaming beautifully over a rocky bed and making a regular cadence to the different falls. The whole descent is 504 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. about one hundred and thirty feet nobly arranged and distributed, and comprehending a remarkable variety of beauty and grandeur. In the year 1 780, being at Salisbury upon a journey of busi ness, I stumbled upon this spot by mere accident ; having never before heard that such ,a cataract existed. When my friend, Doctor Morse, was about publishing his American Geography, I mentioned it to him ; and found, that after all his laborious en quiries concerning the United States, he had never heard of it before. This is one among the innumerable specimens of the want of curiosity of my countrymen with respect to interesting objects around them. Half a million of the New-England peo ple were, perhaps, well-acquainted with the existence of the Co- hoes, a scene far inferiour, and scarcely half a thousand, except the people in this vicinity, knew that the Salisbury cataract existed. You will easily believe that we left this spot with reluctance in or der to proceed on our journey to Sharon. The distance is ten miles ; the direction South-West ; the surface undulating ; the soil good ; and the country divided into a succession of farms. Sharon lies immediately South of Salisbury ; and is bounded on the West by Amenia in the State of New- York. Cornwall bounds it on the East, and Kent on the South. The township contains two parishes; the Town, and the East parish. The town is prin cipally built on a single street, perhaps four miles in length. At the two ends the houses are scattered ; in the centre they form a hand some village. The street lies along the Western declivity of a moun tain of moderate height, rising in the middle of the township, and running through a considerable part of it from North to South. The declivity is gradual and handsome, descending about a mile towards the West. The prospect in that direction, and towards the North and South, is made up of a beautiful interchange of hills and vallies; on the North, formed of the points of several romantic eminences, with beautiful openings between them ; and toward the South- West, expanding without limits. The hills are all crowned with fine forests, and thrifty groves ; and in the vallies, run several sprightly streams, bordered with intervals. The soil of Sharon is excellent; being the reddish loam formerly mentioned. Lime- LETTER XVIII. 505 stone abounds here ; and probably marble also, although it has hitherto escaped attention. The produce of both Sharon and Salisbury is transported to Poughkeepsie, where it is embarked on the Hudson for New- York. In the year 1796 the tooth of a mammoth, found in the North western corner of this town, was transmitted to me by the Hon. John Cotton Smith, and deposited in the museum of Yale Col lege. It was dug up in a swamp by some men who were employ ed in collecting vegetable mold for manure. The roots of the tooth were much decayed, and, after being exposed to the air, chiefly crumbled into dust. The remainder was in a state of tol erable preservation. Since it was lodged in the museum it has decayed still more. This is the only relic of the mammoth, which, within my knowledge, has been found in New-England. Sharon includes two Congregations; and contained, in 1756, 1,205 inhabitants ; blacks 7: in 1774, 2,006 ; blacks 26: in 1800, 2,340; and, in 1810, 2,606. Monday, October 12th, I rode, in company with the Rev. Mr. S. of Sharon, through Amenia and Kent to Washington : nineteen miles. After descending the declivity on which Sharon is built, the road winds through a beautiful valley in Amenia, finely cul tivated, fertile, and settled by a collection of thrifty farmers. The valley is watered by a mill-stream, called the Oblong River, a branch of the Hooestennuc ; which, rising in the Southern part of Salisbury, unites with that river in the Northern part of New- Milford. Amenia contains a part of a tract of land, ceded by the Colony of Connecticut to the Province of New-York, to quiet the claims of that Province upon Greenwich, Stamford, and Norwalk. This tract is, here, about a mile and a half wide ; and extends from the Northern boundary of Norwalk to the Northern boundary of the State; and contains sixty thousand acres. This tract is known by the name of the Oblong. Amenia contained, in 1790, 3,078 inhabitants; in 1800, 2,978; and, in 1810, 3,073. 506 JOURNEY TO VERGENNES. The second division of the road commenced five miles from Sharon ; and passed through a defile, remarkably disagreeable; and resembling not a little that, which lies between Manchester and Clarendon. Like that it is bordered by rough, ill-looking hills, and a dismal swamp at the bottom. The inhabitants are poor, and look as if they were forsaken by mankind. A great part of this tract is also in the Oblong. After travelling seven or eight miles we came at once into a charming vale, declining towards the South-East, with a murmur ing mill-stream at the bottom, lined with intervals rich, and ver dant. The Northern end of this valley is terminated by the de clivity of two mountains, which here unite angularly, and shelter it from every wind, which does not blow from the South. It looks as if it was the retreat of the mild seasons only. Every thing has the aspect of thrift and peace; and silence reigns in the midst of plenty. I know not where absolute retirement could be found with more inviting circumstances. From this spot the road pass es through the Scaghticoke settlement formed by the remains of an Indian tribe of that name. The tract which they occupy is a handsome interval about three miles in length, on the Western border of the Hooestennuc. On the West it is bounded by the base of a lofty mountain. The land, naturally excellent, is mis erably cultivated, both by the Indians and their tenants. Few spots are more romantic. The river a fine stream ; the interval an elegant piece of ground; the mountain, high, ragged and pre cipitous, and in wet seasons ornamented with several cascades stealing down its rough sides ; form an interesting group in this wild solitude. To these objects very affecting and melancholy additions were made by the weekwams sixteen in number, by the degraded appearance of their women and children, and by the recollection of those particulars in their whole state of society which these objects forced upon the mind. They were Indians ; but I could not forget that they were human beings ; neither could I fail to look forward with a painful conviction, that they and their descendants will probably continue just such as they now are until their race and their name shall be extinguished. LETTER XVIII. 507 We dined at a place called Bull's Ironworks. From this spot our road began to ascend the Green Mountain range. It was rough and neglected, passing through a tract of indifferent land thinly settled by inhabitants, whose enjoyments appeared to be few, and whose hopes must be faint and unpromising. The sum mits of these hills present a better aspect, and form a part of the North parish of Washington. This township is principally composed of high, rough hills. It is however good grazing land. The inhabitants are in very com fortable circumstances, and sustain a good character. Washington contained, in 1790, 1,675 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,568; and, in 1810, 1,575. In the morning, October 16, we rode to Litchfield. The next day I reached New-Haven without any accident. I am, Sir, yours, &c. JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. LETTER I. East-Haven — Branford — Guilford — Its burying-ground— White fish used as a manure— Killingworth— Saybrook— Its settlement and fortress— Lady Fenwick's monument Dear Sir, Wednesday, September 17th, 1800, I set out in company with Messrs. D«#l and H-*^lumni of Yale College, upon a jour ney to Cape Cod. On this day we rode to Saybrook, through East-Haven, Branford, Guilford, and Killingworth: thirty-four miles. The road during the whole of this journey, until we arrived at Canonicut ferry, is alternately smooth and rough. The hills in New-England, you will remember, are generally ridges, commencing on or near the sound, and running into the interiour in a North-Easterly direction. At times the road pass es between the sound, and the commencement of these hills. The surface is, here, level, free from stone, beautiful, and pleas ant. The road, unless neglected, is, of course, always good. At other times it crosses the hills ; which are sufficiently high, steep, numerous, and stony, to be very disagreeable. This is particu larly the case between Connecticut river, and the Eastern boun dary of the State. As some compensation for these inconven iences, the hills frequently present noble and delightful prospects. East-Haven, originally a parish of New-Haven, is bounded by the Quinipiac and New-Haven harbour on the West, North-Ha ven on the North, and Branford on the East. The sound is the Southern boundary of all the townships, through which we pass ed in this journey, until we arrived at Sandwich. East-Haven is an alternation of hills, vallies, and plains ; nei ther of them very fertile, unless under skilful cultivation. With Vol. II. 65 510 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. such cultivation they are capable of producing the best crops. Barley, particularly, flourishes on these grounds. All the town ships, mentioned in this day's journey, yield, easily, every pro duction of the climate. The forests also, until we crossed the Eastern line of the State, we found every where to be oak, hick ory, chesnut, &c. Several of the hills, on the North side of this road, exhibit a singular appearance. They are the ends of the ranges, mention ed above ; terminating on the Northern side of the road. In form they are rough, misshapen, sugar-loaves of whin-stone, steep, and ragged. On their sides, and at their bases, great masses of this stone are thrown together in confusion. Its texture, and col our, are substantially the same with those of the basaltic col umns, which form the Giant's causeway. Free stone, of a good quality, is found in this township, in in exhaustible quantities. The inhabitants have an ample market for all their produce at New-Haven. In the Quinipiac, near its mouth, is a very large and most pro lific bed of oysters. These shell fish are annually caught, be tween the months of September and May, in vast quantities. Many of them are opened, and put into casks ; and sent, during the cold season, over large tracts in Connecticut, New- York, Massachusetts, Vermont, and New-Hampshire. As women and children are extensively employed in opening them, the expense of this fishery, which is quite profitable to the inhabitants, is in considerable. With these advantages, united with a little com merce, the inhabitants are in prosperous circumstances. The houses in East-Haven are generally good farmers' dwell ings. It contains two churches ; a Presbyterian, and an Episco pal. The Presbyterian church is a valuable structure, built of the free-stone mentioned above. The steeple was blown down October 10th, 1797, by the tornado, noticed in the account of Portland ; but was soon rebuilt. The Episcopal congregation is small, and is connected with two others in Branford, and Guil ford. LETTER I. 511, East-Haven, in 1790, contained 1,025 inhabitants; in 1800, 1,004; and, in 1810, 1,209. Branford, which is composed of hills and vallies, is a consid erable township, containing the parishes of Branford, and North- Branford, and the principal part of Northford. Bluff-Head, a con siderable mountain, lies partly in this township, and partly in that of Guilford. Pumice-stones, found at its foot, have persuaded several persons, thai it was anciently a volcano. Branford was purchased by the New-Haven Colonists, Decem ber llth, 1638; seventeen days after they had bought New-Ha ven; ofMomauguin, Sachem of Quinipiac, and his people, pro fessedly the sole proprietors of the land. A powerful induce ment, mentioned by themselves in the treaty, in which they con veyed them to the English, was the heavy taxes,* levied upon them by the Pequods, and Mohawks. Another, more forcible still, was their continual dread of these formidable nations ; who had frequently driven them from their country, and had reduced them to the number of forty fighting men. The English, there fore, were received by Momauguin, as their countrymen at Plymouth had before been by Massasoit, from the hope of finding in them allies, who might protect them from the inroads of their neighbours. In this hope they were not, in either case, disap pointed. There is no record of any contention between the English, and these Indians ; nor does it appear, that, after the settlement of New-Haven, they were ever disturbed by their countrymen. The Northern part- of these townships was, how ever, purchased of Montowese, Sachem of Mattabesect The soil of Branford is strong, but cold. When quickened with manure, it yields rich crops. Within the last twenty years the inhabitants of this, and other townships along the coast, have employed for the purposes of manure the white-fish : a species of herring remarkably fat, and so full of bones, that it cannot conveniently be eaten. In the months of June, and July, these fish frequent the sound in shoals; * Indian taxes were paid in wampum and skins. t Middletown. 512 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. and are caught with seines, in immense multitudes. Ten thou sand are considered as a rich dressing for an acre. No manure fertilizes ground in an equal degree ; and none seems more uni versally favourable to the productions of the climate. Wheat, particularly, grows under its influence in the most prolific man ner ; and is peculiarly safe from blasting. The town of Branford is destitute of beauty. The situation is unpleasant ; and the houses are chiefly ancient, and ordinary. There are five congregations within the township : four Presby terian, and one Episcopal. The Episcopal church is small, and without a steeple. The inhabitants are principally farmers ; sober, industrious, or derly citizens ; not remarkable for energy ; and, like those of East-Haven, less attentive than most of their countrymen to" the education of their children. A considerable number of them are seamen, and are principally employed by the merchants of New- Haven. Branford appears as if it. had already arrived at a stand in the progress of improvement, and had become fixed in its present state by the mere want of energy and effort. In the year 17"56 this township contained 1,700 inhabitants ; blacks, 106 ; in 1774, 2,051 : blacks, 113; in 1790, 2,267; in 1800, 2,156: blacks, 67; and, in 1810; 1,932. Guilford lies immediately East of Branford. The surface is generally similar. The soil in the interiour is also the same. On the sound, particularly in the first parish, it is remarkably rich. I know of no land more productive. There are two marshes in this town, which at times have pro duced among the inhabitants, in their neighbourhood, the fever and ague : on the Eastern side of the' Green Mountains, a singu larity. In the year 1796, the inhabitants removed a large body of shells from the beach, lying on the South-East, for the purpose of ma nuring their fields. In this manner they lowered the surface of the beach to such a degree, that in spring tides the waters of the sound broke over it, and flooded a tract of salt-marsh, lying be- LETTER I. 513 tween it and the town. Here they were stagnant, and soon be came offensive. The inhabitants were distressed in great num bers with the bilious remittent, and dysentery. In the year 1 800 they drained the marsh, early in the summer. The fish, with which the waters had become replenished, died. The bilious remittent again spread over the whole neighbourhood. In one instance, only, has it been fatal ; yet it has been very distressing in many. If the work has been effectually executed, it is proba ble, that hereafter the sickness, so far as it has been derived from this source, will be prevented.* The town of Guilford is compactly built. Like those of Bran ford, the houses are in many instances ancient, and ordinary. There are a few exceptions. In the centre is an open square. Two churches, a Presbyterian and an Episcopal, stand on it, to gether with four school-houses ; in which are kept four very good schools. The Episcopal church is without a steeple. This square, like that in New-Haven, is deformed by aburying-ground; and, to add to the deformity, is uninclosed. The graves are therefore trampled upon,, and the monuments injured, both by men, and cattle. The design of locating places of burial in this manner was prob ably good. In its execution, however, it evidently defeats itself; while it is also a plain violation of propriety. Instead of pro ducing those solemn thoughts, and encouraging those moral pro pensities, which it was intended to inspire, it renders death and the grave such familiar objects to the eye, as to prevent them from awakening any serious regard. Here, particularly, both the re mains, and the memorials, of the dead are presented to the mind in circumstances so gross, and indicative of so little respect in the living, as to eradicate every emotion, naturally excited by the re membrance of the deceased ; and give to those, which remain, a coarseness, and commonness, destructive of all moral influence. Nor is it unreasonable to suppose, that the proximity of these sepulchral fields to human habitations is injurious to health. Some of them have, I believe, been found to be offensive, and * This conjecture has been verified during the ten years past. (1811.) 514 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. will probably be allowed to have been noxious. Even in cases where nothing of this nature is perceptible, it is far from being clear, that effluvia, too subtle to become an object of sense, do not ascend in sufficient quantities to affect with disease, or at least with a predisposition to disease, those, who, by living in the neigh bourhood, are continually breathing this mischievous exhalation.* The township of Guilford contains four parishes, and five con gregations. The people have retained, more than most others in this State, the ancient manners of the New-England colonists. Parents are regarded by their children with a peculiar respect ; derived not only from their domestic government and personal character, but also in a considerable degree from the general state of manners. Old people are in a similar degree reverenced by the young; and laws, and magistrates, by the inhabitants at large. Private con tentions have heretofore been rarely known ; and law suits so rare, that no lawyer, until lately, has ever been able to acquire a living in this town. The weight of public opinion has been strong ly felt ; and diffused a general dread of vice. In these convulsive times, efforts have been made to disturb this happy state of soci ety ; yet, although aided by some untoward incidents, they have been attended with less success, than was rationally to have been expected. There are two harbours in this township ; Guilford harbour, and Sachem's Head. The latter is the ship harbour ; and re ceived this denomination, in the year 1637, from the following fact. Two Pequod Sachems, after the defeat of that tribe by Captain Mason, were taken by the troops under Captain Stone ; and had their lives spared, upon promising to discover the place, to which their countrymen had fled. The English brought them to this place ; and, finding that they obstinately refused to give the stipulated information, beheaded them.t By these harbours * A few years after the writer passed through Guilford, the burying-ground, in the centre of the town, was enclosed by a decent and substantial fence. — Pub. i The Rev. Mr. Ruggles, in his manuscript history of Guilford, gives a different account of this subject. He says, that after the Pequods were driven from their LETTER I. 515 the inhabitants carry on a considerable commerce. A large quantity of wood is annually shipped here both for New- York and New-Haven ; and a number of vessels annually built ; most of which are purchased by the New-Haven merchants. Guilford is an ancient settlement. Its Indian name was Menun- catuc. It was purchased of the Indians in 1639. The first set tlers, about forty in number, were natives of Kent, and Surrey, in England ; and were induced to pitch upon this spot, from its re semblance to the region of their nativity. In the skirts of Guilford there are several beautiful views ; par ticularly one, at the house lately belonging to one Joseph Pyn- chon, Esq.* The soil of East-Guilford is naturally less rich than that, on which the town is built ; but, being extensively manured with white-fish, yields abundant crops. These fish are sometimes laid in furrows, and covered with the plough. Sometimes they are laid singly on the hills of maize, and covered with the hoe. At other times they are collected in heaps, formed with other ma terials into a compost ; carted upon the ground ; and spread in the same manner, as manure from the stable. A single net has taken 200,000 in a day. They are sold for a dollar a thousand ; and are said to affect the soil advantageously for a considerable country, they fled Westward. A party of the English pursued them, accompanied by Uncas and his followers. When they had arrived at Sachem's Head, they dis covered a Pequod chief with a few attendants. Uncas and his Indians gave them chase. The Pequods, hoping to escape their enemies, fled to the long narrow point, which is the Southern boundary of this harbour. Uncas ordered some of his men to scour the point. The Pequods, finding themselves in danger, swam across the mouth of the harbour, and were taken prisoners immediately after they reached tlie shore. The Chief was then condemned to die. Uncas shot him with an arrow ; cut off his head, and placed it in the fork of a large oak tree near the harbour. Mass. Hist. Coll. Vol. 10, p. 100. * This house was built by the Rev. Henry Whitefield, who led his congregation from England to Guilford. After continuing with them, according to tradition, about twelve years, he returned to England. Major Thompson purchased his es tate, and transmitted it to his heirs. The house is probably one of the most ancient in Connecticut. It was built of stone, and is now in a state of tolerable preserva tion ; and is perhaps equal in value to any other private building in the township. 516 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. length of time. The people of East-Guilford are not a little in debted to them for their present prosperity. One very disagreeable circumstance attends this mode of hus bandry. At the season, when the white-fish are caught in the greatest quantities, an almost intolerable fetor fills the surround ing atmosphere ; and, however use may have reconciled to it the senses of the inhabitants, it is extremely disgusting to a traveller. Guilford, in 1756, contained 2,322 inhabitants : 59 blacks ; in 1774, 2,930: 84 blacks; in 1790, 3,460; in 1800, 3,602: 55 blacks : and, in 1810, 3,845. Killingworth is a pretty town, situated on a fine slope, declin ing almost imperceptibly from the foot of the hills to the sound. The soil is good ;* the surface handsome : and the prospects are very gratifying to the traveller. A small stream, running through it, terminates in a harbour at the sound. Here the inhabitants build annually a few vessels, and carry on a limited commerce. The town is principally built on a single street, about a mile in length, and many of the houses make a decent appearance. Its Indian name was Hammonassit. Its English name was Ke- nelworth ; but, having been recorded Killingworth by mistake, it has retained this appellation to the present day. This township includes two parishes. In 1756, it contained 1,458 inhabitants : blacks 16 ; in 1774, 1,990 : blacks 33 ; in 1790, 2,156 ; in 1800, 2,049 : blacks 14; and, in 1810, 2,244. Westbrook is a parish of Saybrook, bordering on Killingworth. The surface is hilly, and in several places pleasant. The soil is good : and the whole tract a collection of farms. The inhabit ants are sober, industrious, and in comfortable circumstances. Ship-building is carried on here also. Saybrook is bounded on the East by Connecticut river, on the South by the sound, on the West by Killingworth, and on the * The following is a strong instance of the fertility of land, manured with white- fish. Mr. David Dibble of this town, from five and a half acres of land, dressed with this manure, had in the year 1812, 244J bushels of rye, almost forty-five bush els to an acre : the most exuberant crop of this grain which I have known in New- England. LETTER I. 517 North by Haddam. It contains four parishes ; those already mentioned, North-Saybrook and Chester. The hills here termi nate about a mile and a half from the sound, and leave a beauti ful plain, on which the town is chiefly built. The principal street is about a mile in length, lying nearly parallel with the Sound. Several of the houses are neat, a considerable number are ancient, and ordinary. The soil of the hills and vallies is generally good; and that of the plain excellent, easily cultivated, and productive of all the grains, and fruits, of the climate. The inhabitants retain most of their original character ; and are proverbially distinguished in the country around them for their peace and good neighbourhood. Decency, good Order, and quiet, have, with little interruption, prevailed, from the ori ginal settlement. At the sa*me time, they exhibit proofs of mod erate industry, and contentment, rather than of vigorous enter prise. This part of Saybrook has, I suspect, increased very little within the last thirty or forty years. The additional numbers be come colonists ; and emigrate to the North and the West. No considerable attempts appear to have been made in mechanical or manufacturing business. The commerce, which is of long standing, has been somewhat increased by the efforts of a single man ; but is now at a stand. The agriculture has probably been unaltered for thirty years. The circumstances of the inhabitants, however, appear generally to be comfortable. Saybrook has been commonly, but erroneously, considered as the most ancient settlement in Connecticut. The first European house in the State was built at Hartford, by the Dutch, in 1633, and called the Hirse of Good Hope. The second was built a few weeks afterwards in Windsor, by William Holmes of Plymouth. On the 29th of October, 1635, a colony from Dorchester in Massachusetts planted themselves in Windsor. Two other colo nies about the same time, began the settlement of Hartford and Wethersfield. About the middle of the following November, a company, sent by John Winthrop, Esq. with arms and other ne cessaries came to Saybrook ; threw up some slight works ; and mounted two pieces of cannon. A few days after, a Dutch ves- Vor*. IT. 66 518 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. sel came into the mouth of the river for the same purpose ; but the people were prevented from landing by the cannon of the English. Under the auspices of Mr. Winthrop, the settlement of Saybrook was continued, and advanced ; and by the aid of David Gardner a regular fort was erected, of sufficient strength to de fend the planters against every probable invasion by land or wa ter. In the year 1639, George Fenwick, Esq. one of the paten tees of Connecticut, and a man distinguished for his piety and good sense, was sent out by his associates to superintend their interests. Under his direction the settlement prospered. His wife, Lady Fenwick, died, and was buried, here. Mr. Fenwick, after her death, returned to England. Thursday morning, the 1 8th, we rode out in company with the Rev. Mr. H. of Saybrook, to see a field, from which the surface had been blown away, in a manner uncommon in this country, and supposed by the inhabitants to be singular. A discreet man, who lived in the neighbourhood, informed us, that, about forty years since, the soil, on a little spot in the interiour of the field, was blown off; and that the sand, which lay beneath it, and which was very fine and light, was then blown out, so as to form a small cavity. Hence the ravage extended in every direction, until about twenty acres were uncovered to the depth of from one to three feet. We found here a number of Indian arrow-heads ; and conclu ded from this fact, that the ground had formerly been the seat of an Indian village. Hence we proceeded to Saybrook point, three fourths of a mile below the church. Here, on a rising ground of considerable height, jutting into the river, and united to the main by a beach, and a salt marsh which borders it on both sides, the company sent by Mr. Winthrop in 1635, threw up their temporary works; and planted the cannon, with which they drove away the Dutch in truders. On the same spot Mr. Winthrop afterwards erected a permanent fortification. The ground was well chosen. The hill is steep ; inaccessible, but by means of the beach already mentioned; not commanded by any other ground; and possessed LETTER I. 519 of an immediate communication with the river. To Indian as sailants it was impregnable; and for a considerable time might have resisted with success any supposable invaders. In 1647, the combustible parts of this fortress were burnt by accident. In the revolutionary war, a fort of the same dimen sions was erected on the same spot, to prevent British privateers from entering the river. For this purpose it was perfectly fitted ; as the channel lies almost under the mouths of its cannon. Since the peace of 1783, these works have been suffered to decay. A part of the wall of the ancient fort is still visible; as are also the ruins of a well, dug within, to furnish water for the garrison. We saw several of the cannon, brought hither by Mr. Winthrop. In the revolutionary war they were mounted ; and found to be per fectly serviceable, although they had lain on the spot one hundred and forty years. From this place we proceeded to the monument of Lady Fen wick ; which stands in a field, beyond the marsh mentioned above, South- Westward from the fort. It is built of brown free-stone j and is of a structure, which in this country is, I believe, singular. Its length is between five and six feet ; its breadth about three ; and its height about two and a half. The sides, and ends, were originally plain slabs, handsomely cut, and smoothed. The top- stone resembles the figure of a scroll pediment ; but without an opening. This monument has unfortunately, and very improperly, been suffered to go to decay. It is said, that provision was made by Co lonel Fenwick for keeping it perpetually in repair. If such a design was formed, it has never been carried into execution. If any of the descendants of this respectable woman remain, they might do equal honour to her, and themselves, by securing it from future injuries. The sand-stone, of which it is built, is of so perishable a nature, that the inscription has been obliterated, beyond the remembrance of the oldest existing inhabitants. On the Western side of this point sets up a cove, which sepa rates it from Lynde's Point. Jn high tides the water overflows the 520 .JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. neck, which, at the distance of about a mile from the fort, con nects Saybrook Point with the main. Here, a palisado was an ciently formed, from the river to the cove, to secure Saybrook Point from any sudden incursion of the Indians. About half way between the palisado and the fort, was erected 4he first building, designed for the Collegiate school, since named Yale College. It stood on the Western side of the road, in a sit uation extremely pleasant ; was one story in height, and about eighty feet in length. The ruins of the cellar are still visible. Here the town of Saybrook was originally built ; and few pla ces are pleasanter. From the fort particularly, which is perhaps the best point of view, the prospect of the river, of Lyme on its Eastern shore, of Griswold's and Lynde's Points, which form its mouth, the opposite shore of Long-Island, the plain of Saybrook, and the hills beyond, is uncommonly attractive. Lynde's Point is an estate of great value, belonging to a gen tleman of that name. The surface is beautiful ; and the soil rich. It is also nearly surrounded by water; and therefore freed from the expense of an artificial enclosure. These waters furnish the most convenient accommodations for the transportation of its produce to market ; perfectly secure it from intrusion, and tres pass ; and bring annually a very lucrative fishery to its shores. Very few landed estates in this country are equally productive, or equally pleasing to the eye. Saybrook contained, in 1756, 1,931 inhabitants: blacks 33 : in 1774, 2,687: blacks 59 ; in 1790, 3,233; in 1800, 3,363: blacks 62 ; and, in 1810, 3,996. I am, Sir, yours, &c. LETTER II. Lyme — New-London — Invasion and burning of New-London and Groton by Ar' nold and Eyre — Murder of Colonel Ledyard. Dear Sir, After dinner, we crossed the Connecticut, here a mile in breadth ; and rode through Lyme to New-London : twenty miles. Lyme, as I have already mentioned, is opposite to Saybrook. Like Saybrook, it is composed of a plain, bordering Connecticut river, and terminating on the Sound ; and of a collection of hills. The plain is about a mile in breadth, fertile, and pleasant. The hills are rude and rocky. The town is principally built on a sin gle street, lying upon the former of these grounds, and parallel with the river. The houses generally resemble those of Say brook. The church stands in a bleak and solitary spot, on the acclivity of the hill which is nearest the river. From the sum mit of this hill there is a fine view of the delightful objects, men tioned in the account of Saybrook. From this place the ridges, which here, in a continual succes sion, extend themselves to the borders of the Sound, render the travelling very disagreeable. They are steep ; rough ; covered with a cold and lean soil ^unpleasant to the eye ; and inhabited by farmers, occupying houses, and farms, generally indicative of little prosperity. A considerable part of this region is still forest ed. The road, however, has been repaired, and smoothed, with no small labour, in a manner deserving much commendation. It has been improved also, by the erection of a good bridge over Nahantic bay, an arm of the sea, formed by a small river of that name. Here a ferry was formerly kept, called the Rope ferry ; which at times was troublesome and dangerous. The bridge is straight, built on wooden piers, planked, and neatly finished ; and was the first bridge in this State, authorized by law to collect toll from passengers. 522 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. From Nahantic river, four miles Westward, a tract, extending from the Sound to the Northern boundary of Lyme and New- London, was reserved for the Indians, when these townships were incorporated. Some time afterward, the inhabitants of both uni ted in a petition to the Legislature to include these lands within their limits. The Legislature granted the petition, without de termining upon the dividing line. New-London proposed to take three miles in breadth, and leave one to Lyme. Lyme made a similar proposal to New-London. The distance to the seat of government was fifty miles. The journey lay through a wilder ness inhabited by savages,' and crossed by numerous streams, over which no bridges were erected. The land, though now of considerable value, was then regarded as a trifling object. The expense of appointing agents, to manage the cause before the Le gislature, was considerable ; and the hazard of the journey was not small. In this situation the inhabitants of both townships agreed to settle their respective titles to the land in controversy by a combat between two champions, to be chosen by each for that purpose. New-London selected two men of the names of Picket, and Latimer: Lyme committed its cause to two others, named Griswold, and Ely. On a day, mutually appointed, the champions appeared in the field; and fought with their fists, 'till victory declared in favour of each of the Lyme combatants. Lyme then quietly took possession of the controverted tract ; and has held it, undisputed, to the present day. This, it is presumed, is the only instance, in which a public controversy has been decided in New-England by pugilism. The Indians, for whom this territory was reserved, are now re duced to about thirty persons ; and have a tract of four hundred acres, secured for their maintenance by the State. The settlement of Lyme commenced in 1 664. Its Indian name was Nahantic. Originally it was a part of Saybrook ; and its first English name was East Saybrook. In 1667 it was incorporated by the name of Lyme ; and contains four parishes, and five Con gregations ; three of Presbyterians, one of Independents, and another of Baptists. The inhabitants, in 1756, amounted to LETTER II. 523 2,956 : of whom 100 were blacks, and 94 were Indians ; in 17745 to 4,088: blacks 124; Indians 104; in 1800, they were 4,380 : of whom 23 were slaves, and about 30 were Indians ; and, in 1810, 4,321. His Excellency, Matthew Griswold, formerly Governour of Connecticut, was an inhabitant of Lyme. This gentleman, who was born March 25th, 1714, devoted himself in early life to the study of law, and became distinguished in his profession. He was successively a Representative in the Legislature, a Councillour, Judge of the Superiour Court, Chief Justice, Lieutenant-Govern- our, and Governour ; and was deservedly held in high estimation for all the prominent excellencies of the human character. His understanding was vigorous ; his integrity the object of universal and absolute confidence ; and his piety eminent and undoubted. He died April 28th, 1799. The road from the Rope ferry to New-London passes over a country, somewhat less uneven, and unpleasant, than that, which was last described. It is, however, neither fertile nor beautiful. Since this account was originally written, I have been informed, that the region between Lyme and New-London has, by some late efforts, been shewn to be capable of becoming fertile. A more skilful husbandry has been employed on several parts of it with much success; and may not improbably change its whole face. We continued in New-London 'till the following afternoon ; and spent our time very pleasantly. At five o'clock we crossed the Thames and rode through Groton to Stonington: sixteen miles. The road crosses without intermission hills and vallies, rougher and more uncomfortable than those already mentioned ; and, notwithstanding a great deal of labour, commendably be stowed on it, is very disagreeable. New-London is situated on a declivity, upon the Eastern side of the Thames. This river is about two thirds of a mile wide ; and forms a harbour of great capacity, and depth. Vessels of almost any size find in it sufficient water, and good anchoring ground. It is also perfectly safe. The centre of the town is about 524 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. three miles from its mouth. The site is pleasant ; but would be handsomer, if less encumbered with rocks. The principal streets are parallel with the river ; and are cros sed by others nearly at right-angles ; but without any regularity, either in their distances or their direction. The houses are less beautiful, less thoroughly repaired, and in fewer instances painted, than a stranger would naturally expect. It is said, that rents are high, and that every house is inhabited. There are two churches here ; a Presbyterian, and an Episcopal. The former is a handsome building. There is also a small Con gregation of Baptists. New-London is a shire-town ; and gives its name to the County. The Court-house is an indifferent build ing, unfinished, and apparently left to the disposal of the weather. The fish market is believed to be the best, except that of New port, in the United States. A considerable part of the fish, sold in New- York, are supplied by the fishermen of New-London, from the waters in its neighbourhood. The commerce of this town was formerly very considerable. Since the Revolutionary war, the enterprising spirit of the inhab itants appears sensibly to have declined. There are two banks in New-London : one more, it is believed, than is necessary, or useful. The government of New-London is vested in a Mayor, Alder men, and Common Council. The Thames is navigable, about sixteen miles, for schooners and sloops ; and about eight for frig ates. A considerable number of enlightened and polished families have always resided in this city. In the year 1781 a body of British troops embarked from Long-Island, under the command of Gen. Arnold, on the night preceding the sixth of September; and, having crossed the sound, landed at ten o'clock the next morning, in two detachments, on the two shores of the Thames, near its mouth. The detachment, which landed on the Groton shore, was commanded by Colonel Eyre ; the other by Arnold himself. Fort Trumbull, a small snd imperfect work, built for the defence of the Thames, about LETTER II. 525 a mile below New-London, was evacuated at the approach of the' British : the little garrison, stationed in it, crossing the river to Fort Griswold, erected on the Groton side, and immediately opposite to New-London. Arnold marched to the town without any material resistance : there being no body to oppose him, ex cept a few straggling inhabitants, who fired now and then at his troops, as they were advancing. Col. Eyre at the same time moved on his corps to attack Fort Griswold, defended at that time by above one hundred and fifty militia ; hastily collected (some of them without arms) for this purpose. As the British drew near the fort, a firing commenced with great resolution ; and was maintained with the utmost spirit, under the command of the gallant Col. Ledyard, for a considerable time. Eyre was soon wounded ; and Major Montgomery, the second in command, kilk-1. Major Broomfield, the officer next in rank, conducted the remainder of the enterprise. The British were severely handled ; and, though greatly superiour in numbers, and in ev ery military advantage, except bravery, are said to have doubted for a time whether to continue, or relinquish the assault. The fort, originally imperfect, had been neglected; and had material ly gone to decay. Still the action lasted forty minutes : when the assailants carried the works by the bayonet. The resistance instantly terminated. The British leader, upon entering the fort, asked who commanded. The brave Ledyard, who by his defence had merited the highest respect from every,military, and particularly from every generous, man, answered, " I did com mand, sir ; but you do now." As he uttered these words, he presented the hilt of his sword to the British commander ; and was instantly run through the body. The Americans had lost but five or six men, when the British entered the fort. A causeless, and furious, carnage commenced immediately upon the death of Ledyard ; and between sixty and seventy Americans were killed on the spot, after they had surrendered their arms, and ceased from every kind of hostility. When this slaughter was finished, the British soldiers loaded a waggon with the wounded, and drew it to the edge of a long, and steep, declivity below the fort ; Vol. II. 67 526 JOURNEY TO PROVINCE TOWN. whence by its own force it descended violently, until it was stop- .ped at a considerable distance by an apple-tree. A number of these unhappy men died instantly by the shock. The Americans lost on this occasion seventy-three killed : more than thirty were wounded ; and about forty were taken prisoners. The British had two commissioned officers, and forty-six soldiers, killed. Eight officers, with one hundred and thirty-five soldiers, wers wounded, several of them mortally. Arnold made himself master of New-London, without resist ance ; and set it on fire. Sixty dwelling-houses, and eighty-four stores, were destroyed by the conflagration. The loss, sustained by the inhabitants, and by the public, was very great ; consisting of naval stores, European, East and West-Indian goods, and pro visions ; all of which in large quantities, were assembled in the stores ; and the furniture, provisions, clothing, and other proper ty, contained in the houses. Fifteen vessels, loaded with the property of the inhabitants, sailed up the river. Four remained in the harbour unmolested : while several others, lying at the wharves, became a prey to the conflagration. No single action of the British, during the Revolutionary war, was more disgraceful, both to those who directed, and those who acted, than this. The murder of Ledyard (for it can be called by no other name,) will cover the British commander with everlast ing infamy. The slaughter of his men was a mere, causeless, In dian butchery ; and, to have appeared in its proper character, ought to have been perpetrated with the tomahawk. The treat ment of the wounded, which beyond every reasonable doubt was ordered by the commanding officer, would have staggered even the cruelty of Savages. The men, sacrificed by these lawless outrages of principle and decency, had fought bravely in defence of themselves, their families, and their country ; and would by other British officers, have been respected, and honoured, for the manly resolution, which, fresh from their farms, work-shops, and counting-houses, they had so signally shewn in the defence. Ledyard was deeply regretted by his countrymen, as a brave, sensible, polished, honest, and noble-minded citizen ; who had fallen in a magnanimous attempt to defend his family, friends, and LETTER II. 527 neighbours; fallen by base hands ; fallen by an act of treachery, and brutality, which ought never to have been expected, unless from acknowleged barbarians ; and which many barbarians would have disdained to perpetrate. But he fell in the bed of glory ; and will be remembered with honour by distant generations. This enterprise, and the execution of it, were exactly fitted to the character of the man, by whom it was conducted. In this country, indeed, it can be scarcely said to have deepened the dye of his infamy. The conflagration of New-London, and of the lit tle village in Groton, opposite to it, was not of the least use to the British cause, army, or nation. The consumption of naval stores and other goods, and of the public provisions, might, perhaps, find a vindication in the customary proceedings of war ; and be con sidered as in some measure weakening an enemy. The loss was undoubtedly felt ; but contributed nothing to dispirit the resolu tion, or slacken the efforts, of the Americans. The destruction of private dwellings, and private property, produced no other ef fects, beside extending personal and domestic sufferings, and riv eting animosity, contempt, and revenge, against their authors. The number of inhabitants in New-London, then including Montvilie and Waterford, was, in the year 1756, 3,171 ; in 1774, 5,366 ; in 1800, in New-London and Waterford, 5,150 ; in Mont vilie, 2,233 ; in 1810, in New-London alone, 3.238 ; in Montvilie 2,187 ; in Waterford 2,185 : total 7,610. New-London is the port of entry for a considerable part of the foreign commerce carried on by the inhabitants of Connecticut Valley, of the whole commerce of Norwich, and of Stonington, Groton, and several other towns in the County of New-London. The amount of this may be conjectured from the following ab stract of duties. Years. Duties. 1801 - - $78,478 1802 - - - 94,656 1803 - 68,222 1804 - 112,922 1805 - - - 156,644 Years. Duties. 1806 - - - $2 14,940 1807 - - - 201,838 1808 - - - 98,197 1809 - - - 58,417 1810 - - - 22,343 I am, Sir, yours, &c. YALE UNIVERSITY 1 3 9 0 0 2 0_0 2 i+ :