Letter I.

I lament your absence from Charlestown, at the time
my setting out; yet perhaps it is better so, expecially as it was
not in your power to transact the business with S――. On
my arrival here, I sent for Mr. Ladely, who very politely undertook
to execute the business without delay; but how you
are to get the papers in time, Heaven only knows. I must
leave it to chance. You say you are going to Ohio to spend
the winter—for your health, I presume—better go to North
Carolina, or any southern climate. Go to bed early, and rise
betimes in the morning. You ruin your health by setting up
late. Hang the cards, they are to be your ruin: I never knew
any good come of them. They will, if you persist in them,
cost you your health, reputation, perhaps your life! Cards
subject you to bad company and bad hours. What is worse?
Oh, M. quit them—pursue something more worthy of yourself.

But I see I must quit writing. Mr. L. and myself are
both sitting at one table, and trying to write; but we shall have
to give it up. The room we are in, which is the family apartment,
was occupied when I came in, by two or three rough looking
men. They had been drinking, and were disputing on politics
when I entered. When Mr. L. and myself sat down to write, I
thought they would take the hint; but no! here they sit. I suspect
they must be some of the consequentials of the neighborhood,
as they are suffered to occupy the sanctum sanctorum 1(3)v 6
of the landlady, to the groast molestation of the guests. They
have begun on the scriptures now, and a fight, I suspect, will
break up the debate. Strange! how the sacred writings are
abused by the misguided vulgar. How absurd! and yet how
common! You will scarcely see two or three persons together
who do not engage in disputes about the scriptures; and yet no
subject is so little calculated to sustain contradiction. One
party always, and often both, fall into a rage. Were the
scriptures given for this? But some will say “it is our privilege
to talk in a free country.” True—but not to quarrel!
I never knew any good, but on the contrary much harm, flow
from these disputes: neither is this practice confined to drunkards
over their cups: sober, but narrow minded religious
sects are addicted to it; and it is always found to present most
amongst those who practice the duties of the Christian religion
least. As there is no surer mark of an evil disposed female,
or want of virtue, than to hear her defame her own sex; so
there can be no stronger evidence of a hypocrite than to hear
him rail at other sects than that to which he belongs: and I
should want no better proof of his being every thing but a
Christian. The Christian religion does not consist in vain
disputes and idle talk, but in the practice of its precepts. I
have never heard any of these sectarians dispute the privelege
of relieving the distressed. The idea of such a dispute never
entered their heads or hearts.

I find Mr. L. a man of much patience. I confess I must
yield to him the victory. He is certainly a modest as well as
a very pleasant man. Dear M. I must retire to rest. God
bless you! Pray take care of your health.

N. B. You shall have the papers by Tuesday, if possible.

Letter II.

Here I am, safe and sound, in defiance of wind and weather,
bad roads, and all. To use the common phrase, very little 1(4)r 7
worth your attention has occured since I wrote to you from
Cabell. I had not proceeded a mile on my way the next morning,
before I was met by a gentleman riding on horseback, and
alone. This was the thing I wished, provided he was going
so far as your town; but from the stranger’s appearance, I had
little hope of that. He was without any thing that might indicate
a journey of any distance. He was thinly clad, without
portmanteau or saddle bags, and even without a great coat,
although it had snowed during the night, and the morning was
intensely cold. He addressed me with the easy politeness of a
gentleman, and inquired how far it was to town, meaning Cabell
Court House, and also how far it was to Charlestown?
My heart leaped for joy on hearing the last interrogatory. After
giving him the desired information on each of his inquiries,
“Are you going to Charlestown, Sir,” said I, drawing forth
my packet from my pocket. He replied in the affirmative.
“Will you be so good then,” I asked, “as to take charge of this
packet and deliver it there?” He kindly assented, observing
that he would execute my commands with pleasure. All this
was the business of the moment; but no sooner had he disposed
of the packet, and we were about to separate, than I repented
my rashness in confiding so much in a stranger, and thought
it might not be amiss to inquire for his place of residence. But
what was my astonishment, when he told me he lived in Scotland;
but that, at present, he was going to Canada. “At any
rate, Sir,” said I, “you have the deportment of a gentleman,
and I will venture to trust you.” “Fear me not,” said he,
“I will not deceive you.” We bowed to each other and separated.
You are in a poor trim, thought I, for a journey to
Canada at this season, as he parted from me shivering with
the cold.

At the distance of a mile from the place of our meeting,
I met three men riding with led horses, heavy laden. They
were muffled up in great coats, cloaks, &c. I concluded they
belonged to the gentleman ahead, probably his suite; which I
found to be the fact. You will have heard, ere this, that this
great personage was Lord Selkirk. On the second night after
parting with his Lordship, we—I say we, for the companions 1(4)v 8
of my journey found me at Big Sandy River—we stopped for
the night at an Inn kept by old Mr. Clack. Here I learned
the name and quality of the Scottish Lord; and I could not but
blame myself for the liberty I had takenwith his Lordship.
Yet what the plague could he be poking about our wild hills
and mountains for? And how was I to know that he was a foreign
dignitary? Indeed, he had more the appearance of an
out-rider, in the way I met him, than any thing else.

Old Mr. Clack informed us, that Lord Selkirk put up at
his house, as he went on—that he was on his return from a tour
of three years, which were spent in exploring the western
country bordering on the Pacific—and that his suite consisted
of his Physician, his Secretary and his servant. These were
the three men I met in the rear of his Lordship. These particulars
Mr. C. collected from the servant, without the knowlege
of his superiors, who maintained the strictest silence on
the subject of their journey. Mr. C. stated, that his Lordship’s
domestics behaved with the greatest humility towards
him, never presuming to sit in his presence, nor to eat until
he had finished his meal—for the rest, he ate a great many eggs,
ten or fourteen at a meal; wrote to a late hour at night; and
slept under a great many blankets between his own sheets.

The fears of Mrs. Clack, on account of the Earl, afforded
us much amusement. She said he must harbor some bad design
against the country—that was certain: “for,” said she,
“he must be a Jew, or a Turk, or a Tory, or some outlandish
animal; for, because, whenever my old man would go out, he
would always be a axin me how many neighbors I had, how
many were in each family, and how far distant the country
was inhabited around us; but, whenever my old man came in,
he would just be as still as a mouse!” We endeavored to remove
the old lady’s fears, by assuring her that little danger
was to be apprehended from his Lordship. I have since learned
that his motive in visiting the west, was to seek an asylum
for his poorer countrymen.

Letter III.

I intend to spend a few days in this town, or city, whatever
it he called. I have seen but little of it yet. Should I
describe it to you, it would be too much like repeating “a
thrice told tale.” The country around it is well situated—
beautiful in the extreme, and in a state of high cultivation.
The first three days of my journey, after entering Kentucky,
presented no variety, the soil and face of the country being
nearly the same from Big Sandy River to Mount Sterling,
about ninety miles. The surface is very uneven, covered with
heavy timber, and thinly inhabited; but on approaching Mount
Sterling, you are suddenly transported, as it were, into another
world. The face of the country assumes a new appearance,
the soil and its productions differing entirely from the preceding.
It is not in the power of imagination to paint the contrast,
which you behold on emerging from the gloomy, lonesome
woods into open day. The light, which was hitherto excluded
by the lofty timber, rushes upon you in an instant; and
you find yourself in a soil, rich indeed, but the growth of timber,
which principally consists of locust, cherry-tree, and
black-walnut, is low and small, and the trees universally terminate
abruptly from a large base to a diminutive top, although
they have wide spreading branches. The fruit trees on the
Kenhawa equal them in height: they are thinly scattered over
the ground. Such is the face of the country from Mount Sterling
to this place, and it is said to extend to Danville in this
state. The farmers give their attention chiefly to the raising
of Indian corn and tobacco, though other vegetables are produced
in plenty and in great perfection. But with these subjects,
as well as most others, relative to the manufactures and
produce of Kentucky, you are much better acquainted with
than I am.

You have often heard it stated, that a solid rock of limestone
runs beneath the surface of the earth here. This is not
generally the fact; it only exists in what is called old Kentucky,2 2(1)v 10
meaning that part of the state, which extends from Mount
Sterling to Danville, and which, I presume, was the first settled.
This rock is said to be at unequal distances from the surface,
from two and a half to four feet. To this circumstance may
be ascribed the diminutive growth of the timber. As I rode
through the country from Mount Sterling to this place, I observed
that the sugar trees were dead. Upon inquiry into the
cause of this novel appearance, I was informed that they were
killed by a worm, which attacks the leaves and boughs with
such avidity, and in such numbers, that they succeed in destroying
the tree; and having despatched the sugar trees, it had
begun the same process on all others, except the walnut, which
it has never yet been known to touch.

Dr. Claud has called to see me, and I must conclude.

Letter IV.

If you are a rich man, says Goldsmith, you may enter a
room with three loud hems!—march deliberately up to the
chimney—and turn your back to the fire. If you are a poor
man, shrink into the room as fast as possible, and seat yourself,
as usual, on the corner of a chair in a remote part of the
room. I omitted the relation of an anecdote of a poor Irish
traveller, whom we met at Licking: it will cure you of the
hypo.

It was dark, it was cold, it was raining—when we entered
a tolerable Inn on the bank of Licking river. We had
scarcely seated ourselves by a welcome fire, when some one
batted the house from the opposite shore. The landlord stepped
out, answered the call, and in a few minutes returned,
ushering in a man all dripping with water. We made room
for him to approach the fire; but he declined seating himself
amongst us, and retreating into the chimney corner, seated 2(2)r 11
himself, not on one corner, but on the edge of a chair. All
eyes were turned towards him. How common, and yet how
ungenteel—nay, how uncivil—to embarrass a poor, unfortunate
stranger! How apt we are to do the very thing we would wish
not to have done unto us! It is cruel to stare a poor creature
out of countenance only because he is a stranger, and differing
from outselves only in his outward appearance, while his modest,
downcast look, tacitly disclose his superior manners.

Poor Paddy, for an Irishman he was, replied to the inquires
of the guests, respecting his unpleasant trim, “that his
horse was after trowing him in the wather: by the powers
he niver was witter in his life. And I wish,” continued he,
“I wasn’t safe at ome, in old Patrick O’Brian’s to night. I
wouldn’t be here, so I wouldn’t. Do, if you plase, landlord,
give us a gill of whiskey.” By this time, the landlord, of his
own accord, had appeared with a glass of spirits. “Och, long
life to your honor,” cried Paddy: “here’s wishing you may
live all the days of your life, so I do.” On being urged to
change his clothes, he replied—“indeed, and I haven’t a clean
rag at all, at all; and so I will just sit here and dry myself by
this good fire, and never mind—and I ought to go and see that
Gin has her meat, poor bayst! She is the swaytest craycher
in the world, for all she trow’d me in the pool; but ’twasn’t her
fault, for the saddle fill in first, and then you know, she couldn’t
help that.” The landlord begged him to make himself easy,
and he would see that Gin should have a plentiful supper.

One of our party asked him, if he had travelled far: “Och!
indeed, I have then,” said he; “I’ve been all the way to the
Orleans among the agues, and the fayvers, and the miskeetoes,
where they make sugar out of dare cane, and grind it in dare
mills, wid dare nagurs. It is mesilf that had the ague, tree
long monts and nine days; an all the time I lay flat o’me back,
an the fayver shakin the skin traugt the bones, an not a christian
craycher anigh me to give me a drink, but the doctor, and
an old woman to wait on me. And there I lay spaychless, all
the time talkin all the nonsense; an if I ever live to get home
to Ireland again, it will never be me that will come to this
here country again—if I do, my name isn’t Dennis O’Brian. 2(2)v 12
Many’s the time I’d say to the doctor, doctor, says I, I can’t
stand it much longer, so jist lit me alone, an lit me die in
payce, for the miskeetoes is aytin me up, any way, Says the
doctor to me, ‘Dennis,’ says he, ‘have patience, you’ll be
well by and bye, and so—’” He would have run on till now,
had he not been interrupted by the entrance of two more travelers;
and in a short time afterwards supper was announced.

We all arose to go to supper. Poor Dennis arose very
slowly, apparently hesitating whether he ought to advance or
not. One of our party tarried behind the company, waiting
for him. Finding he was about to decline the summons, he
asked, if he would not walk in and take supper with us. “Och!
may the blessings attend you for that, for I havn’t broke my
fast on mayt to day, but I hated to be afther aytin wid gentlefolks;
an I have but little money too, for I give the last dollar
I had away to a poor woman that I met in the road a walkin.”
“Come along, sir,” said the gentleman, “You are as good
as we are.” The kindess of this address made his eyes
sparkle, and he took the precedence, which the gentleman gave
him, in walking before him to the supper room—exclaiming,
“God forbid I should ever be half so good as your honor.”

During supper, and long after, he entertained us with a
history of his travels from New York to Pittsburg, thence to
New Orleans, and last of all from Ireland to America: not,
however without the assistance of another glass of whiskey
and a great number of says I’s and says he’s. Long before he
closed his narrative, I went to bed, and fell asleep; and I know
not how long it was before I was awakened by some one who
was singing. It was our Hibernian, beguiling his sorrows with
a song. Happy man! Is he not to be envied? thought I. In
my opinion, much more than he who possesses thousands.

Letter V.

I shall leave Lexington after breakfast. In the mean
time, you will expect to hear something of this town. Although 2(3)r 13
I have been here two days, I have learned but little concerning
it, having been confined most of the time. In size and population,
it is such as it has been described: and is the largest
town I ever saw. The first thing that strikes the eye of a
stranger, is its white houses, gates, and posts (which last are
very large) and the great activity in the streets—many people,
carriages, &c. moving in all directions. Here are, also, very
extensive Rope Walks. I have not visited any of the manufacturing
houses in Lexington, but I have been told they are in a
flourishing condition. Of the market, I say nothing, as the
cheapness, variety, and abundance of its supplies have been so
often proclaimed by others.

I am informed that the citizens of Lexington are remarkable
for their benevolence and humanity to the distressed of all
descriptions, particularly to poor emigrants, who pass through
their town. In no part of the United States, perhaps, do the
unfortunate meet with more compassion than in Lexington.
This is a noble trait in their character. I found, however, one
exception in the person of Mr. Keen (I think his name is,) a
vain, impertinent upstart. It contains about 5,000 inhabitants,
who are genteel and hospitable. But my horses are ready,
and I must conclude abruptly.

Letter VI.

We arrived here without meeting with any accident. This
place is situate in the barrens of Kentucky, and is a handsome
village. These barrens are almost destitute of timber. The
soil, however, is very rich, and produces crops equal to any in
the state: it is of a black color, tinged with red. Black Jack
abounds on these barrens, and serves the inhabitants for fire
wood; but it is not sufficient to defend them against the beams
of the sun in summer, nor shield them from the cold blasts 2(3)v 14
of winter—neither can it furnish rails for fencing; and the inhabitants
are obliged to procure timber for this purpose, and
also for building elsewhere at considerable expense. These
barrens are but poorly watered, being destitute of springs;
and the inhabitants have to supply the deficiency by digging
wells. I am informed that the scenery, in summer, is beautiful,
being varigated with flowers of the richest hue, and clothed
with a coat of most luxuriant grass.

I was considerably amused this evening, in listening to a
conversation which took place in the room where I was sitting.
There were present five persons—I made the sixth: two doctors
of physic, one lawyer, one old farmer, and one of your
dandies. For myself, I sat a silent spectator. The subject
of disputation arose from the circumstance of a burning coal
of fire flying, by accident, into Doctor E’s bosom, as the servant
threw a log of wood with much force on the fire. This
instantly called up the two great properties of all bodies, denominated
by philosophers the power of attraction and repulsion.
After dwelling some time on these points, they glided,
imperceptibly, into the proofs of chymical affinity,Open note a01-rota At this period chymistry was all the go in the west. by exhibiting
in full array the different experiments—such as exposure of
phosporus to the action of the atmosphere, muriate of ammonia
and carbonate of magnesia, muriate of soda and sulphate of
magnesia, ardent spirits and a solution of salt and water, the
attraction between mercury and oxygen gas upon being exposed
to the common temperature of the atmosphere.

The conversation (which was all Greek to me) was interrupted
by the old farmer who exclaimed, “Oh, d—n your
oxen and grass, Dick; its all nonsense—better come and take
some grog, gentlemen, and let us go to supper. What do you
think your aunt Patty will do to night, Dick; hey!” “I suppose,
sir, she will guess at the truth, and conclude that you
could not accomplish your business in time to return home.—
I think you may make yourself easy, uncle, and enjoy yourself
with your friends.” We discovered that one of the young
champions was the old gentleman’s nephew; and that modest
and respectful deportment, which he manifested towards him,
inspired the guests with an exalted opinion of his merit.

The old gentleman having drunk his grog and recommended
his example to the other guests, supper was announced,
and we arose and followed the landlord to the supper-room.
After we were seated, the old farmer, who had listened attentively
to the illustrations of chymistry, without attempting to
join in the conversation, was the first person, who spoke, delivering
himself as follows: “I tell you what, Dick, I don’t
understand none of your high flowing words, see, about this
chymistry, nor your paresses and rats, and magnitudes, and
all that are stuff. I don’t see that any of you can get along
any better than I do, with all your larnin, and I never knowed
nothing about ’em.” The young gentleman’s face colored
with a deep blush, and he replied: “You deserve much credit,
sir, for that success, which has distinguished your industry
and skill as a farmer, which has not only secured to yourself
an easy independence, but has furnished you with the means of
gratifying that liberality and benevolence, for which you are
so justly celebrated.” “Oh, now hold your tongue about
them things, and let us go on about these chymistries. Why,
d—n it, I don’t understand a word of the confounded stuff at all.
I suppose we shall have the sun, moon, and stars, and Joe
Graphy next. What do you think of these thinks, friend,”
said the old man, turning to the dandy?

Mr. Fop, who had evinced his restiveness in a variety of
ways during the learned discussion before supper, in which he
took no part, being now appealed to, delivered himself thus:—
“The rotundity of the earth’s velocity, and the humidity of
hydrolics, and their specific gravity, ar quite ridiculous in the
abstract. I ar astonished to hear some folks purfess to have
larned the infinities of tractions, when that ar a thing that ar
out of the question!” This rhodomontade was uttered as it
were, in a breath. If you had seen the old man, with his
mouth and eyes wide open, staring at our dandy, while he was
blending the different properties of bodies in a mass, and then
hurling the whole to destruction, you would have stared, I believe,
far more than the old man himself. “D—n your ars
and your finities,” said the farmer. The company could contain
themselves no longer—a general burst of laughter from 2(4)v 16
all, even from the servants, put an end to further conversation.
The lawyer, who was a pretty clever fellow, I thought would
have gone into fits. He laid down his knife and fork, clapped
his hands on his sides, and continued to repeat the old man’s
ars, and laugh, till I expected he would drop. The gravity of
the nephew was constrained to give way: and, in short, we
were compelled to quit the supper-table. My young fop moved
off, and I have not seen him since. Have I not taken some
pains to amuse you, instead of going to bed? which last I shall
now do, however, in a few minutes. Good night.

Letter VII.

At length I have reached the state of Tennessee, the land
of Heroes. I have been in the state about three hours, and
already I seem to tread on sacred ground.Open note a02-rota At this period the state of Tennessee and its high born sons, attracted universal
admiration, and was the subject of conversation in all companies. As I rode to the
Inn, where I now am, I was informed, that I was in Tennessee,
and I immediately fell into a train of pleasant musing. The
victory of New Orleans, the battles of Tallushatches, Talladega,
and Emuckfau, all passed, in retrospection before me—
the brave, the intrepid, the invincible Jackson, and his brilliant
achievements engrossed every faculty of my mind. I shall
see him! thought I. I shall now be gratified with a sight of the
brave Tennesseeans, whose valour has secured forever the
honour of their state!

After the necessary attention to ourselves, horses, &c. the
landlord appeared to be at leisure, and I began a desultory
conversation with him on the subject of his state. He informed
me, that he had been only two years an inhabitant of the
state, having removed hither from Kentucky. I found him
disposed to bestow no very favorable encomiums upon the
Tennesseeans: in fact, he endeavored to impress me with an 3(1)r 17
opinion, redounding very little to the honor of their moral character.
He related the story of a robbery, which had lately been
committed at the next house of entertainment, in that direction
in which we were travelling. I am amongst the few that do
not credit evil reports upon slight grounds, and concluded that
in the present instance, rivalry, or something else that the
landlord thought proper to conceal, was the cause of this illnatured
alumny; which I found in the end to be true. I was
however gratified this evening in becoming acquainted with
one of the subaltern officers, who served under General Jackson
as a volunteer. He came to the inn for the purpose of
passing the night there; and finding he had been in the army,
I attached myself to him the residue of the evening. He bestowed
the highest praise on General Jackson, and related
many anecdotes of that great man, among which were the two
following—one of which concerns his deportment whilst he was
a judge.

One day, when he was sitting on the bench at Jonesborough,
the sheriff came into the court and informed him that
the man (charged with the commission of some offence) would
not be taken. Summon every man in the court yard, said the
judge. The sheriff did so, and approached the man a second
time; but the notorious offender placed his back against the
stone wall of a house, and, with arms in his hands, set his
pursuers at defiance. Hereupon the sheriff once more complained
to the judge, that the man would not be taken. Did
you summon all the men in the court yard? asked the judge.—
I did, replied the sheriff; but he is armed, and none of the men
will approach him. But summon every man you see, said the
judge: and the sheriff, taking the hint, answered—“I summon
you, then sir,”—whereupon the judge arose, came down from
the bench, approached the man, took him, and delivered him
to the sheriff.

The other anecdote relates to his conduct towards Witherford,
the Indian Chief, who commanded at Fort Mims, the
scene of a then recent inhuman butchery by the Indians. After
the battle of the Horse Shoe, the Indians sued for peace; and
Jackson, to prove their sincerity, ordered them to bring 3 3(1)v 18
Witherford, bound, to his camp. Learning what Jackson demanded,
Witherford determined to go and surrender himself
voluntarily. He gained Jackson’s camp without being known,
and desired admittance to the General. Jackson, astonished
at his presumption, asked him how he dared to appear in his
presence, after acting such a part as he did at Fort Mims?
Witherford replied—“I am Witherford: I am in your power.
Do with me what you please. I am a soldier still. I have
done the white people all the harm I could. I have fought
them, and fought them bravely. If I had an army, I would
fight them still. But I have none! My people are no more!!
Nothing is left me but to weep over the misfortunes of my
country.”

Jackson, admiring the firmness of his address, told him,
that if he rejected his (Jackson’s) terms, although he (Witherford)
was completely in his power, he (Jackson) would take
no advantage of his situation—that he was at liberty to return
to his own camp. “But if,” said Jackson, “you choose to try the
fate of arms once more, and I take you prisoner, your life
shall pay the forfeit of your crimes. But if you really wish
for peace, stay where you are, and I will protect you.”

“Well may you speak to me in this style, now!” replied
Witherford. “There was a time, when I had a choice. I have
none, now—even hope is ended! Once I could animate my
warriors; but I cannot animate the dead. Their bones are
bleaching on the plains of Tallushatches, Talladega, and
Emuckfau; and I have not surrendered myself without reflection.
While there was the smallest hope. I remained firm at
my post, nor supplicated for peace. But, my warriors are no
more! The miseries of my nation affects me with deepest sorrow!”
—His voice was lost in emotion for some minutes, and
then he added—“But I desire peace for the few that are left.
If I had had none but the Georgia army to contend with, I
would have raised my corn on one bank of the river, and
fought them on the other. But your people are a brave
people—you are a brave man; and I rely on your generosity.
You talk a good talk: my people shall listen to it.” Here all
the world might stand up and say, “this was a man!” No wonder 3(2)r 19
the magnanimous soul of Jackson felt for him. Does he
not remind you of Logan?

Letter VIII.

Nashville, like everything else, sounds louder at a distance
than when it draws near. At the distance of a mile
from the town, you see a board, with a hand painted on it as
large as life, and the fore finger pointing with the following
inscription, in large letters, underneath—“Look and see the
Town!” Upon looking down the road, you see the town,
sure enough. It has a beautiful appearance, when viewed
from this point. As you approach it, you are so much
engrossed by its lofty looks, from which it is difficult to avert
your eyes, that you would be apt to plunge into the narrow
Cumberland, which flows between you and “the Town.” We,
however, did happen not to do so; but preferred a boat, which
met us in good time.

Nashville is built on a high bluff, and the houses look very
much like tumbling on your head, as you cross the river in a small
boat at what is called the middle ferry. The citizens have, with
much labor and expense, cut a passage through this bluff, large
enough for carriages to pass and repass. This passage, which is
cut through a solid rock, turns abruptly down the river as if to seek
a more commodious place to land the passengers, who receive no
sort of hospitality or attention from the high minded gentleman,
who looks down upon them while crossing the Cumberland. I was
much disappointed in the size of this far famed Cumberland
river. Although the large barges on it seem to indicate that
there is much water, yet it is very narrow and steals softly
along, its blue smooth waters making not the least noise.

The soil of West Tennessee, north of Cumberland river,
is very rich and equally as productive as any in Kentucky or 3(2)v 20
on the Kenhawa—it is an open plain of uninterrupted good
land; and the farmers raise corn, tobacco, and pumpkins,
in great abundance. They rear great numbers of hogs and
horses, and have a great many distilleries in operation. In
this way they convert their surplus produce into cash. But
neither their hogs nor horses are so large as those of Kentucky;
nor can their cattle be compared, in size, with those of that
state.

I am afraid my brave Tennesseeans indulge too great a
fondness for whiskey. When I was in Virginia, it was too
much whiskey—in Ohio, too much whiskey—in Tennessee, it
is too, too much whiskey! But I must relate an anecdote of a
blind man, before I take leave of the north side of Cumberland
river.

We slept, last night, about ten miles north of Nashville.
When we stopped at the stile in order to dismount, we observed
a gentleman of middle age and decent dress, standing in the
yard with a cane in his hand, apparently giving direction to
a servant, who was feeding the cattle: as soon as we stopped our
horses, he pointed his cane towards us and told the servant to go
and take those horses. When we had crossed the stile, this
gentleman saluted us very politely, and asked us to walk into
the house. After giving directions relative to our horses, he
also came in, took a seat, and entered into conversation with
us. It was now dark. Some men, whom we found there,
when we stopped, asked “how much is there to pay?” The
landlord, who was no other than the gentleman whom we first
saw in the yard, told them the amount; they gave him some
money, and he walked to his desk, took out the requisite
change, and gave it to them. He then walked out of doors,
was gone sometime, returned, took a chair, sat down by the fire,
and continued to converse with us till bed-time. But guess my
astonishment, upon being informed, that this man was totally
blind! and had not distinguished day from night for ten years.
His wife, who is one of the finest women I have seen, says, that
most travellers who spend the night there, go away without
discovering that he is blind—that he could change specie to
any amount correctly, but in changing notes, or bills, she had
to tell him the amount of the bills.

Nashville is principally built of bricks, and is very handsome,
and does much business. In size it is nearly as large as Lexington.
It commands a handsome view, both of the river and of
a beautiful cedar grove, which is rendered more beautiful by
art, being trimmed and cut into cones and pyramids. The
citizens of Nashville in their dress and manners exhibit much
taste and opulence. About ten years ago cotton was raised in
this part of Tennessee in considerable quantities, an acre of
ground yielding from ten to fifteen hundred pounds; but strange
as it may seem, it does not succeed here now. It grows as
high as ever, but will not open. This defect is said to be owing
to the seasons growing colder.

I am sorry I am obliged to leave Nashville so soon; were
it not for this I might write you again from this place. Take
care of your health, and take care of Tray.Open note a03-rota A favorite dog of the author.

Letter IX.

After limping along about fourteen miles from Nashville,
I was compelled to stop, my saddle horse being foundered;
and here I am left alone, and more—but no matter! All things
happen for the best. I will try to beguile the time in amusing
myself with “mine host” and hostess, who I dare say, expect
to make their Jack out of me—“Old Feginny begging!”Open note q008-rota A Virginia phrase. Did
you ever see one of your low-bred Virginians—I mean what we
call Tuckahoe? The Blue Ridge, you know, as well as I do, separates
Virginia into Eastern and Western Virginia, or Tuckahoe
and Cohee. Foreigners often distinguish it by the terms “Old
Virginia” and “New Virginia”. In Old Virginia the lower class
of citizens are the most ignorant, presumptuous people in the
United States. Well, then, it was one of these bold, arrogant,
ignorant, self-important, purse-proud females that constituted 3(3)v 22
the character of my hostess. The old man had not made his
appearance, being, as she said, out in the field to look after
his hands, (meaning his slaves) for he is rich. My landlady is
not homely: she is about forty, low, corpulent, and has a countenance
that sets one at defiance. She was all bluster, bustle
and anxiety, as if she actually intended to give the lie to the
old proverb, that “Rome was not built in a day.” She would
go out, come in, sit down, get up, and walk to the door and
call as loud as if the house were on fire—“Luke, an’t you done
totin them taters yet?—I ’spose you at the fire again. Sal, you
brush them tables off, you hear; take up them ashes, you hear:
make up a good fire, you hearOpen note a05-rota I am obliged to retain the “r” in hear, fire, &c or not be understood, but she
sounded it not in speaking, nor does any of her sort. “For” they sound like faw or fow,
(light,) and “nor” like naw &c. as naw you, naw or na I, &c. and, what faw,
you hea or he, &c. Also, tha for there, and sharance for assurance, &c. Nev’r
or nev’ for never—stars for stairs—mar for mare, &c. An’t Rich’d come with some
good water yet? Tha, now, you dun it! What’s that” [A
servant girl had broken a glass—the landlady runs to see.]“—
Well, my lady, nev’r mind, I’ll pay you fow that—pick um up.”

In the midst of the scrape a lad came in, who, it seems,
was the landlady’s son, and had just returned from one of the
neighbors. “Well! is it true, that—massy upon me. I bin
so hurried I an’t had time to pull off my night-cap to-day!—
Yond’s the old black ho’s come up. Sal, go and put him in the
stable, and give him some con” corn. “Is it true that Billy’s
married shoo nuff?” sure enough. “Yes!” drones out the
boy, no way concerned for his mother’s flurries, nor for the
passion it was about to throw her into. “Well, now, did ever
any body hear the match o’ that. Go and tell your daddy to
come here. I reckon he’ll make him pay the ten dollaars he
borrowed—he shall smack him with a wan’t,” warrant “this
very night! Well, it doesn’t signify, the sharance some people
have. I’ve wocked” worked “hard for my ’state—but yonders
your daddy and Betsy too.”

The landlord entered. He was one of your tall, darkskinned,
smooth tongued, sly-looking fellows, that manage matters
softly; and quite as low-bred as his spouse. “Fine spot
of work! Billy’s married, shoo nuff!” Betsy, an awkward
lump of mortality, apparently about seventeen, strode across 3(4)r 23
the room to dispose of her bonnet; and finding a stranger in the
house, she frisked back, and began to adjust her Feginny
cloth dress. Not so, the old lady; but before she opened the
flood-gate of her tongue, I made my escape to my chamber.
The apartment, however, being on the same floor, I heard the
whole lecture distinctly, like a torrent, overwhelming the new
married pair. You know how quick those negro-raised Tuckahoes
speak: just so did she, never finishing one sentence before
she began another.

“Well, it’s just as I thought. Wha—t,” says the old man?
“Oh, it’s a fact—John seed’um together.” “I wish,” replied
the wife, “I may never stir, if he oughten to be hanged.
I wish I may die!—a good-for-nothing, stinking, lazy—I
’spose you’ll lend him ten dollars again. I bound ’twas to pay
for his license—well, it don’t signify; you will fool away all
your ’state—I’d put him in jail, this very night, before he
sleeps, that I would. I’ll tell him a piece of my mind. Nev’r
mind! fa’ to have the inshoince to cote” court “my gal! This
comes o’ larnin gals to write! A darter o’ mine shouldn’t lan
to write, to save her life!—Nev’r mind—I ’spose he thought
I was a sich a fool I didn’t know what all them letters was about.
Tha, now—that’s your thanks faw lett’n him eat here! And
so my darter is to be scandalized by sich—.”

On a sudden she stopped; but soon she exclaimed, “No!
you may go some wha, else—I takes no sich trash as you is,
into my house!” The person, whom she addressed, was a female,
who spoke so low that I could not distinguish her words
clearly. It was a bitter cold evening; the sun was setting; and
I framed an excuse of asking for water, to go into the apartment
to ascertain whether she was such a savage as to turn
the woman out of doors. When I entered the apartment, I
beheld a poor, but decent-looking woman, with a child in her
arms, standing in the door—the wretch had not asked her to
the fire, nor offered her a seat. Poor woman! thought I, you
have happened to fall in here in a bad time. I ventured to
soften the brute of a landlady, and expostulated with her very
mildly upon the cruelty of turning a fellow-creature out of
doors on such a night! The poor woman turned her eyes upon 3(4)v 24
me in grateful silence. It came into my head to try the effect
of money upon this she-imp. I offered to pay her double the
poor woman’s expenses—but no! oceans of grace would not
melt her heart to pity. I might as well have attempted to stop
the mouth of a roaring lion as to soften her more than savage
heart. “Let her go long, wha ever she’s goin—I ’spose she’s
bin with the sojers: how came she by herself? I’m not goin to
have my house scandalized by no sich trash—I got nuff of um
last fall, stopp’n here; and when I come to find out, nothin ’tall
but strumpits come from camp. I ’spose you the same—so you
may clear yourself.”

The poor woman, during this speech, was struggling to
suppress the big tear, which, in spite of her efforts, rolled
down her cheeks—she was alone, on foot, and carrying a child.
I asked her how far she had to travel. She answered that
she believed it was fifteen miles; that she was going to see her
husband, who was lying sick on the road; and that he was returning
home from New Orleans, when he was taken so ill he
could travel no farther. I endeavored to comfort her, giving
her a trifle at the same time. The sun was now in the horizon,
and I told her she had better proceed, lest night should overtake
her, since the landlord said the nearest house was two
miles distant. “It’s not a great distance,” said I; “keep a
good heart—it cannot be possible that there are many such
people as these,” darting a look of contempt at the landlord at
the same time, who must be a pusillanimous wretch to suffer
his wife to usurp his prerogatives to the great dishonor of
his head and heart. The woman departed. Had my horse
been able to travel, I could willingly have left this house with her,
sought another lodging. I stood in the door looking after her and
for some minutes. To that God, “who tempers the wind to
the shorn lamb”—even to him, who says to the wicked thus far
shalt thou go, and no farther, did I breathe a supplication in
behalf of this distressed female.

Letter X.

I had been in my apartment but a short time when I was
called to supper, which was excellent, considering the eternal
clatter of this woman’s tongue. I was silent, all her obsolete politeness
notwithstanding; and, it was “would I be hope to this,
and would I be hope to that?” During our repast, I showed, by my
looks, as much as possible, my abhorrence of her conduct;
and the moment I had finished my supper, I retreated
once more to my chamber. I called for more wood and
stirred up my fire; and having given orders relative to my
horse and dismissed my servant, I fell into the following train
of reflections on the nature and character of woman! “Yes, I
knew that would come next,” you will say. Very well; you
guessed right, for once.

It is said that woman is the last—best—gift of the Creator.
She is celebrated by poets—praised by historians—extolled
by travellers—and by all authors, both ancient and modern,
is allowed to excell the other in every virtue that dwells in the
human heart. Woman are renowned for wit, learning, taste,
and talents. Pack, Ledyard, Weld, Liancourt, and many
others, have proclaimed aloud to the world the obligations they
are under to women, who at the hazard of their lives flew to
their assistance in the hour of danger. When abandoned to
despair, afflicted with disease, famine, and in death—woman,
“lovely woman,” stood before them; and, like an angel, dispelled
their fears, relieved their wants, and soothed their sorrows.
The Duke of Liancourt, who narrowly escaped the guillotine
in France, and who owed his life to the friendship of a woman,
has drawn their character with a master’s hand. “Their
friendship,” he says, “is inviolable, their fidelity unshaken, their
courage invincible. They are intimidated by no difficulty,
and bid defiance to dangers. Amiable woman! When man
desponds, she animates him with new hopes—when he is sick,
she ministers unto him—when in distress, she comforts him,
bids him live, and makes him in love with himself. And well 4 4(1)v 26
can she soothe and comfort him: she is all patience, she is all
fortitude. The endearment of her smiles, the melting accents
of her voice, and her bewitching softness, beguile him of his
sorrows and makes his prison a palace!” In short, it would
be endless to enumerate examples of that decided superiority
of women over men in acts of benevolence.

But, fair and softly—who are the objects of this divine
excellence?—Man—not woman—not their own helpless, friendless,
cheerless, forlorn sex—but men, who by their nature and
constitutions are every way better calculated to bear misfortunes.
“But this preference, which is manifested towards man,
almost to the exclusion of their own sex in redressing their
grievances, is founded in nature, from which they cannot deviate.”
I admit it—I make every allowance for that immutable
law that pervades the material world. I would not dissolve
it if I could, and particularly that mutual predilection that the
sexes have for each other, independently of moral obligation.
In my judgment it is the basis of all our social happiness.
The result, then, from this view of the case is, that this irrisistable
influence, flowing from necessity, reflects neither praise
nor blame on the female character. But does it follow that
this impulse, which discovers itself in acts of noble generosity
towards men, should dispose them to a contrary course
of conduct towards their own sex? I presume not. At most, it
leaves them free to avoid doing them harm. If they choose
not to relieve their sufferings, they could pass on as the Priest
and the Levite did of old—But no—cruel woman does not
imitate those holy men, and much less the good Samaritan.
When woman is the subject—woman is all hostility, either
directly or indirectly, in public, in private, in adversity, in
prosperity, in the palace, in the cottage; in all alike a deep
rooted malignity seem to prevail! In the most civilized nations,
in the most civilized age, in the most polished circles of society,
history affords us a lamentable evidence that the general tenor
of woman to her own sex, is envious, deceitful, malicious,
haughty, bitter, insolent, revengeful, treacherous, implacable.
However specious they may carry themselves, while in each
other’s presence, no sooner do they turn their backs, than most 4(2)r 27
of them indulge more or less in some species of detraction,
from the sly insidious hint to broad assertion.

I never in my life witnessed an assembly of women, great
or small, but indulged in that most hateful of all vices, slander
against her own sex!

What a picture you will say of a woman—yet my dear sir,
all this your candor will admit!

Were you not present once when the news of the unfortunate
―― ――was announced?—I think you were. It was
then you saw the true character of woman. It is needless to
repeat the peals of artillery discharged from their tongues upon
the unfortunate. I recollected well, and so might you, the whole
posse, with rage (instead of pity for the frailty of the sex) in
their looks; they hunted down their prey, more like blood
hounds than human beings, and the forlorn sufferer was
spurned from society! This is a pretty general case.

Whither was this unfortunate to go?—seduced!—betrayed!
—abandoned!—by whom?—By man—by man who was
designed to protect her. Inhuman villain! He robbed her of
that “which not inriches him, and makes her poor indeed.”
Poor, forlorn, and friendless as thou art, thou needest not go to
thy own sex for shelter. As well might thou apply to the
savage beasts of prey.—What then?—Go to man?—O no.
He is the cause of all thy wo! An outcast must thou roam,
unpitied and forgot.

All this time not a word of reproach is uttered against
the seducer: This is strange, “But he is a wicked profligate,
unworthy of respect, and ought to be banished society.” No
such thing!! He is received into company—he is invited to all
our parties—nay, he is a greater favorite than ever with the
ladies. Oh, fie! not for his virtue I presume, but for what all
thinking people will concur in, viz: a similarity of taste—depravity
of heart—and, above all, that secret something which
is paramount to all motives and resists education.

But I deny that this innate principle, which is involuntary,
acts as an incentive to cruelty to their own sex, which is voluntary.
Does it bind them hand and foot? Does it control
the faculties of the mind? Thousands of females come to a 4(2)v 28
miserable end, not by the cruelty of man, but by the savageness
of their own sex. These unhappy sufferers, without house
or home!—without friends!—destitute!—driven out from society!
—doomed to roam through winter’s storms!—perhaps without
clothes to put on or bread to eat! I weep for you!—it is all
I can do! May the God of mercy have mercy on you. Long,
long, heavily will ye have to suffer in a world where repentance
is vain! Your sorrows are without hope!!!

But you will say, what would I have ladies to do? Take
such persons into their houses, associate with them? They
would be thought no better—Open note a06-rota I have conversed seriously with several of my female friends on this subject,
and they tell me “that the fear of being suspected, prevents them from showing compassion
to this unfortunate class of females.” If I were to hazard an opinion, I would
say, their want of charity to their own sex, ought, by no means to enhance our opinion
of their virtue. I once heard a libertine say, “he wanted no better sign for his
purpose:” and all men of sense say the same thing. On the other hand, I am astonished
those affected ladies do not spurn the men upon the same grounds. Abominable
affectation! “Every one is known by their
company.” Yes—if they repent, I would not only take them
into my house, but into my bosom. I would wipe the tears
from their eyes—I would soothe their sorrows, and support
them in the trying hour; I would divide my last morsel with
them!!

For those who would not repent,—if they were hungry I
would feed them; if they were naked, I would clothe them; and
much more, if they were sick, would I minister unto them; I
would admonish them, and I would then have done. What did
our Saviour? I would not revile them; I would not persecute
them. Good night! I beg pardon, once more, for troubling
you with a long letter. I was led on by my feelings.

Letter XI.

I found my horse better this morning, and with no other
company than my servant, I bade my entertainers adieu. The 4(3)r 29
family, when I left them, were preparing to attend preaching—
for with all the old lady’s good qualities, she is in the Church!
None attending it but the mother and her daughter! Mighty
good Christians, thought I. Of what denomination, I inquired?
A Methodist. I suspect that one of the same is here
now, a guest, with two others beside myself. The Inn is kept
by Mr. Reynolds, and looks very well.

The parson looks very holy: sighs very often and loud; so
there is no mistake. His dress is a black, sleek, broadcloth
coat, blue pantaloons and vest, with short skirts (domestic:) his
cravat is white, and tied on very closely. He is about the
middle size, young, ignorant, and very important. He scarcely
deigns to cast a look at us, poor sinners; and when he does,
he withdraws his eyes with conscious triumph! The other
guests are a good natured Yankee pedlar, and a gentleman of
genteel appearance. I shall let them rest till after supper.—
I promise myself much amusement with the parson and the
pedlar.

Prepared with my pencil, I waited some time; nothing to
do—all set mute. At length the pedlar, throwing his sparkling
black eyes around upon the company, addressed his holyness
with, “be you travelling Mister?” The parson, turning his
gloomy face towards the speaker, as if his immaculate purity
was now about to be tarnished by this vile pedlar, answered
him with a look of contempt; after an interval of some
seconds, he said, “I am travelling the circuit.” “I guess,
if you travels the circle I bin, you’ll have bad travelin on’t,”
said the pedlar. The third gentleman whose name, I find is
K――, asked, if “the road was worse towards Huntsville?”—
“I guess you’l find purty much so—Open note a07-rota The land is so rich, and never or seldom freezing in winter, and the want of
good roads, makes the travelling unspeakably bad. tarnation swamps and
sedars and mud, take one a’most up to hub sinkin into that
are mire grounds ’tallmost killed my cattle.Open note a08-rota Yankee phrase for Horses. I guess if I
gets to hum agin I’ll stay there.” “Have you made good sales,
sir,” said the gentleman. “I guess I’ll spend more ’an I
makes—knows no more a tin ware in that are Huntsville than 4(3)v 30
if they had no sense; guess they’ll know more on’t when I tak’t
to ’um.”

While he was speaking, the hostler made his appeareance
to know how much oats each traveller wished to give his
horse. The pedlar was the first to reply. He said, he “won
to have his horses have two gallon a piece.” “I have fed
yours, sir.” “You hadn’t ought to fed ’um; I guess you’ll
gi’um too much.”

It appeared the pedlar was direct from Huntsville, and
he had put up for the night long before I arrived. Mr. K. is
travelling that way, and so also is the preacher. The preacher,
I suspect, thought the Yankee below him, (but so thought
not I,) and Mr. K. above him. I made some remarks on the
country, addressed to Mr. K. who is a man of intelligence.
We descanted upon the progress of society, agriculture, &c.

Supper being over, Mr. K. and myself dipped a little into
the sciences, merely from mutual curiosity. Could we have
drawn the pedlar and the preacher in, it would have been
worth repeating; but, as you hate learning (and so do I, between
familiar friends,) I pass it over.

The people generally, through this state, so far, are almost
the middle grade as to information. If you ask how far it is
to the next house?—“Well, I don’t know”—Does such a man
live on the road? “Well he does.” They have the well to
every thing, just as they do with us. There are a great many
Methodists in Tennessee, and in the new settled part of Kentucky.
I have frequently seen them, and heard them, as I
rode through the country. It is strange to observe how their
preachers draw the women after them.

Letter XII.

In my last, I forgot to inform you we passed the woman
on the road who was turned out of doors. She informed me,
that after walking two miles, she obtained lodging, but with 4(4)r 31
difficulty. She had overtaken a wagon on the road, and was
riding in it when I passed her, yesterday, about twelve o’clock.
The story she related I found was correct, having passed
the house, to day, where her husband was confined. But,
alas! no wife, nor home, nor children, will he ever see more—
He is dead! I slept last night in a room adjoining to the one
occupied by the preacher mentioned in my last; and, whether
sitting up or in bed, I could not ascertain, but a long dialogue
passed between him and some other person. This person was
a man, I think one of the neighbors, as one came in after
dark, who called the preacher “Brother”,—the person, whoever
it was, was likely to bring disgrace on the church, in violating
some of the rules, by intemperance, and something worse:
the man spoke so low that I could hear but a word now and
then.

Preacher. “But you bring reproach on God’s people, brother;
you ought to be holy and blameless before God; you ought
to take up the cross, brother, and deny yourself the things of
the world, the pleasures of the world, and the sins of the world,
and the e—vils that are in this wicked world; walking in all
holiness before Go—d and his holy angels, and blameless
and ho—ly.”

Neighbor. “But, brother, I am tried.” [A groan.]

Preacher. “Brother, they tell me, that you will drink a little
too much.”

Neighbor. “Brother, I only got a little lively at brother I’s
shucking; and brother W. were there, and brother D. was
there, and brother S. and I thought no harm, and it was a cold
night, an’ we all drank a little—No, what makes um parsecute
me above the rest—I didn’t take but three drams since; and
because I happen to stump my toe against a little bit of a stump
and fell down it was nurated over the whole country.” [You
see he is a little bit of an Irishman.]

Preacher. “Oh, brother, you have hurt the cause of God.
I hear you have ruined one of the prettiest sisters; that she is
with ―― by you. This is wicked.”

Neighbor. “Oh! brother, it’s all a flam. Do you think I
would offer to go and be guilty of the like—and what if I did 4(4)v 32
talk to her about the state of her precious soul—sure where’s
the harm?” [The conversation at this part of the story I was
unable to hear, except now and then a groan.]

Preacher. “Brother, you ought to pray to the Lord to
strengthen you, that the d—l may have no power over you
while you are travelling through this vale of sorrow and temptations;
and—”

Neighbor. “Now I’ll jist tell you the naked truth, brother,
before God, and I’ve prayed nightly to him—with wrestling,
sare wrestling have I wrestled in prayer, that he would save
me from sin, and forgive me. Now, this here is the truth—I
was jist walking along, not thinking—well, I hope the Lord
will forgive me; but as I was saying, I was going to brother
Wilson’s to see if he had any work for to do; for you know,
brother, that Saint Paul labored with his hands. Well, who
should I meet, right in the road, walking the self-same way
that I was going myself—you may be sure, that auld sarpent,
who is always troubling God’s people, begun for to tempt me.
But, as I was saying, who should I meet, but sister ――.
Good morning sister, sez I; good morning brother, sez she:
and so we fell to talking about the things that God had done
for us, in shedding abroad his love in our hearts—in saving
our immortal souls from sin. I sez to her, sez I, sister, how
is the state of your precious soul, to-day?—O, brother, sez she,
I feel bound for glory: and so—but the devil put it into my
head, I’m sure—.” [The rest was spoken low for some time.]
“And so, we talked about the things of God, till we got very
happy.”

Preacher. “O! brother, you ought to pray to God for that
sin, that doth so easily beset you. You have wrought evil in
Israel.” [The rest past in whispers, and I fell asleep.]

A Preacher here again as I hope to live! The people
must be very pious in this place—and he is going to preach
too. Here is the house filling fast; great many women—few
men—and I shall put this away and join them in worship. I
shall leave my prejudice behind with my pen, ink, and paper.
Be he Jew or Turk, fool or fanatic, I care not. In the firm
belief, that the worship of God is paramount to all other duties, 5(1)r 33
I spurn the narrow mind, which is attached to a sect or party,
to the exclusion of the rest of mankind. Can I not implore
the Divine mercy? Can I not praise that fountain of all excellence,
as sincerely with these people as with others?—You may
laugh, and think I am jesting; but, I assure you, my friend, I
am serious. I am far from being among the number of those,
who set at nought the worship of the Deity, however I may
deplore the abominable prostitution of that religion which is
pure and undefiled. Go thou and do likewise.

Letter XIII.

I remember when you and I, sitting by my fireside, in
that easy familiar frankness, indulged in our remarks on
Priests—that they are always the same, let them be of what
persuasion they may. I retain that opinion still! Hitherto I
have only learned mankind in theory—but I am now studying
him in practice. One learns more in a day, by mixing with
mankind, than he can in an age shut up in a closet.

But the Priests, I perceive, are precisely the same they
were centuries passed—they all aim at power. Their drift, I
see, is to gain as many proselytes as possible, without regard
to the conduct of their flock—they will not suffer them to possess
any will of their own—perfect despots. No potentate is
more despotic, and no subjects more submissive, whilst in the
presence of their Priests, but the greatest rogues in the world
when out of sight. I perceive, too, they are very jealous in
controversy. They seem to me as though they would fight in
defence of their principles, while they leave the practice of
religion to the sinners who make no fuss at all about religion.—
Between you and I, Matt, this world is most abominably wicked.
I have seen such sights—nothing but preaching and
praying—and not one to relieve the poor. No! not one steps
forward. Can this be Christianity?

Christ says, if you love me, keep my commandments—and
this is my commandment—that you love one another. This
was our preacher’s text last night. I should like to have this
text indemnified for the depredation committed on it by his
Reverence. His discourse was nothing by a hop, skip, and
jump—from one thing to another. Nothing but “hardened
sinners you will go to hell and be d—d.” Why, the man
swore outright. “The wickedness of this world; and the
pleasures of this world; and the temptations of this world.”
Mem! thought of the affair of Brother, the Irishman, and
his devout sister.

Now for the righteous: “Press on ye mourners to the
end, and—to that glo—rious” [loud as a trumpet] “place, prepar
—ed for you.” &c. &c. He stamped—he roared! Not a
word on the subject of love to our neighbors.

I never but once in my life heard a sermon to please me;
and that was preached by a Mr. Sargent, sometime of Ohio.—
But this preacher (as he is called) poured out a torrent of nonsense.
The men groaned—the young ladies cried—the louder
the preacher bawled, the louder they cried—at last they
screamed!—Did you ever hear wolves howl? It was more like
their howling than any thing else I can name. Is this religion?
These would, like their sister, turn the poor friendless female
from their door. But let facts speak. A gentleman removed
to this country last year. He came on sometime before his
family, in order to engage provisions for their arrival. Through
some oversight, he forgot his money. The neighborhood consisted
chiefly of professors of religion. He went to a man,
who, as he was told, had a large quantity of bacon and corn for
sale, and withal was very religious. He told him his situation:
that he had a large family, both black and white, coming on,
and he wished to purchase provisions sufficient for them till he
could raise a crop; and that, when his family arrived, he would
pay him. No!—He would not trust him. The applicant went
to another and another, and still received the same answer.
Thus discouraged, he at length inquired for the wickedest
man in the neighborhood. He was told where to find him.
He went to him, and related his situation, and what he wanted. 5(2)r 35
“There,” said this wicked man, without any hesitation or
inquiry, “there is my crib, and there is my smoke house; use
them as your own, whilst their contents last.” Which of all
these was neighbor to him, who fell among――thieves, I might
say.

Letter XIV.

I am now within a short day’s ride of Huntsville. I have
travelled slow, on account of my horses, the roads being deep
and heavy, such as the pedlar described them. The cane has
made its appearance for some days past, and my servant has
been breaking whole arm’s full of pipe stems, and throwing
them away alternately, as he finds they increase without end.
Having never witnessed the growth of the cane before, I was
much gratified to meet with it. It first appears scattering, very
slender, but tall, from eight to twelve feet high. It has blades
like Indian cord, and some resemblance of a tassel on the top.
It grows every where through the woods; but, as you proceed,
it is larger and higher, and tons of it lie on the ground, on
each side of the road, broken in pieces and rotting; and where
this is the case, the green cane is extinct forever, doubtless.
The cause of this I cannot learn. These stalks are larger
than corn stalks, and must have been twenty feet in height!

The land increases in fertility as we advance; and this
fertility extends a vast distance on each side of us. The land
at this place, and Fayetteville, resembles that north of the
Cumberland, as black as your hat, and level.

I have travelled a south course since I left Nashville, from
which Huntsville is distant 100 miles. Pony, (15 hands high!)
is a horse of great patience and slow to anger, or he would
have testified his displeasure at this same road: but he tugs 5(2)v 36
along without a murmur. We are now to have a change for
the better.

This inn is kept by a bachelor. His mother lives with
him, and attends to the cooking department. The tavern is a
separate building from the one occupied by the old lady, which
is also the kitchen. I was shown into the latter by the landlord,
and was pleased to find the house large, neat, and warm;
but the lady looked old, cold, and crusty. Being very hungry,
(not having dined,) my appetite was no little increased by the
savory smell of bacon and cabbage, which Mrs. W. had sitting
by her, very snug in the corner, for the family dinner.

I knew from her looks, it would be a cross and pile chance
whether she would condescend to set a part of it on the table
for me till she saw her own time. But, setting my wits to work,
I prevailed finally, and made a hearty meal, cunningly, by the
fire.

There were two good beds, with curtains, in the room, and
being weary, my next court to Mrs. Wells was, for liberty to
repose on one of the beds: this was also granted. Thus every
wish was gratified. Upon inquiry, I learned that the guests,
should any arrive, dined in the kitchen, or what you choose to
denominate it. Night was drawing on, and I was quite delighted
with a place of concealment, should travellers arrive;
and, drawing the curtains of a princely bed close, I lay still
and snug out of sight.

It was hog killing day at Wells’, and dinner was delayed
till the business was over, and the table was sitting for dinner
as I lay down, when, as I expected, word came “that two
travellers had arrived and wanted supper.” The lady returned
for answer, “that the table was setting for her own family,
and if they thought proper to accept such fare as she had
ready, they were welcome, but that she would prepare nothing
more tonight.” The Negro woman, who was charged with
the message, remonstrated with her mistress, and said “coffee,
or tea, ought to be made.” “No, I will make none to night;
if they don’t eat such as there is, they may go without.”
“Very well!” replied the woman; “you may do as you please,
you know, very well, Massa Tommy won’t like it.” “Who 5(3)r 37
cares for your Massa Tommy, or you either,” said Mrs. W.
Accordingly, the bacon and cabbage was placed on the table,
with milk, in tin cups—plenty of corn bread—a small plate of
butter, and all placed upon a table hard by your humble servant.

Highly delighted with my situation, ensconsed behind the
curtains, I awaited the entrance of Mr. Tommy and the travellers.
The candle was lit, and our guests summoned to supper.
I took a sly peep at them as they were sitting down.
One was lame, and a small man, but had a genteel and manly
appearance; the other was still less, with a small sallow face
and a perfect dandy, or fop, who looked over the table with
sovereign contempt.—Mean time the genteel looking man asked
if he should help him? The fop hung back some time, but at
last said, “yes, sah,” sir, a Tuckahoe, by the way a citizen
of Virginia, below the Blue Ridge. This was [Gap in transcription—two lettersflawed-reproduction]ts for me.
Tommy, who had likewise taken a seat, paid no attention to
the strangers. He was a good looking man, rather swarthy,
and about forty years of age.

After eating some time, the little Tuckahoe erected himself
on his seat, and observed, without addressing any one in
particular, “I believe you have no tea, no coffee in this country.”
The old lady, with great composure replied, “sometimes.”
“You dosen’t have any flower hea’ neither.” The lady sung
out “sometimes,” again. “I b’lieve you’ all savages in this
country.” “Savage enough.” said the lady quite in a good
humour. Both gentlemen sat in my view, and the face
of the other gentleman colored deep at foppy’s remarks;
who asked, with great spirit, “what country may you call
yours, sir?” “I ar from Norfolk, Virginny, su’”Open note a09-rota He pronounced it “sugh,” for Sir. The low raised Virginians have a great
aversion to the r s, except where they ought not. “And
how do they live there?” “Why, su’, they live, su’, like
gentlemen, su’; I hasn’t seen a bit of victuals fit to eat since I
left Norfolk, except in Nashville.” “That is a great pity,
sir,” said the other. “But we, of this country, do not rate
ourselves by eating: we rate ourselves by fighting. Would
you like to take a shot?”

Letter XV.

Here I am, landed safe and sound, and in high spirits.
This will go by the same mail with yesterday’s adventures.
I broke off short last night, being sleepy: but, taking up the
subject—The little man dropped his feathers quite low, upon
the departure of his friend, who, immediately arose and walked
out of the house. The Tuckahoe, after asking the girl for
mo’ milk, and mincing awhile, left the table likewise, and
walked into the tavern. Had the latter as much spunk as he
had impudence, they certainly would have fought—but I heard
no more of it. The old lady said, “if my Billy had been at
home he would have slapped his jaws.”

This morning very early, upon sallying forth, I found my
little fop inquiring for his mar, mare, and it was laughable
enough to hear him insist upon sending his mar to water, the
very self-same way we were going. “I always has my mar
wartered befo’ I starts.”

They were both going to Huntsville, where the fighting
gentleman lived, as I found in the course of the day. We will
have a merry time of it, thought I; and, taking leave, we all
set out.

Having every prospect of a rainy day, we whipped on
pretty brisk. I found the land high and dry after leaving
Wells’, and another change in the growth, which is very light,
and in many places none at all. The land is of a redish black,
light as ashes, and very rich.

I attached myself to the Tennesseean, (he of Huntsville,)
being pleased with his manners, and, above all, with his spirit.
He related many anecdotes of the recent battles, and was very
communicative on the situation and prospects of the territory.Open note a10-rota New Alabama.

We had taken up more company, and at length the conversation
turned on the renown of General Jackson. My little
Tuckahoe, not pleased that he was overlooked in the conversation,
would some times be alongside, often before, but never behind. 5(4)r 39
His hat stuck on the top of his head, to the hazard of
falling off. He twisted and turned, his head now on one
shoulder, and now on the other; and again elevated, and next
bending forward to look at his stirrups. Finding all his evolutions
failed to attract attention, after displaying all his fine
parts, and the fine parts of his mar, he could brook the indignation
no longer.—“By G—d, I suppose, you think General
Jackson is a G—d almighty about here.” “By G—d, sir, I
think he is next to him,” said the Huntsville man; “and none
but a d—d fool would have made the remark.” Now thought
I, they will fight. “You, nor no other man, Sir, shall speak
disrespectfully of General Jackson, in my presence.” This
spirited reply, rather cooled the little gentleman’s ire. He
ventured, however, to draw a comparison in favor of General
Washington. The other said he “was disposed to acknowledge
all possible praise of General Washington, but, at the
same time, Sir, the man who dares to impugn the name of
Jackson in my presence, does it at his peril.” I begged the
gentleman to resume his good humour, and turn the little gentleman
over to me. Thus he fell out of the pan into the fire.
“That ar a fine mar of yours, Mr. Jones,” said I, that being
his name. “How far have she toted you?” “She have toted
me a thousand miles, and she could a toted me a thousand miles
mo’.” I then inquired after the lobster family, at Norfolk;
said I understood “they were a numerous and respectable
family.” “Humph!” he replied. “I ar astonished to hear
some folks talk: the lobsters ar a fish.”Open note a11-rota A lawyer, in one of the lower counties of Virginia, being in court one day,
arose and observed to the court, “my witnesses is come, and I ar ready for trial.”
The opposite counsel, whom I believe was Mr. Wirt, rose up, and bowing, replied,
“am you, Sir” Thus I continued to
torment him, to the great amusement of the party. He had the
only umbrella in company, and the Huntsville gentleman, who
could scarcely sit on his horse for laughing, asked “if he
would not compromise with the lady, by giving her the umbrella?”
which I would not accept, though it rained moderately
fast. He had the most scornful lip I ever beheld.

The cotton fields now began to appear. These are astonishingly
large; from four to five hundred acres in a field!— It 5(4)v 40
is without a parallel! Fancy is inadequate to conceive a prospect
more grand! The cotton, as it now stands, has the appearance
of buckwheat when ripe, being divested of the cotton,
(as my friend informed me,) which is picked out. Although
the land is level, you cannot see the end of the fields either
way. To a stranger, coming suddenly amongst these fields,
it has the appearance of magic. He is lost in wonder, and
nothing but the evidence of his senses can persuade him it is
reality. In laboring to do this, I was forced to abandon my
ideas of human industry, which I could not accommodate to this
novel appearance.

We arrived in Huntsville about 2 o’clock, P.M. and met
another wonder at the entrance of the town, which was one of
the great cotton machines.

Letter XVI.

A merry Christmas to you, in the first place. I was saluted
by a few guns, last evening, which reminded me of old
times.

The face of the country has changed five times in my
tour! From Big Sandy River (the boundary of Kentucky and
Virginia) to Mount Sterling, the soil is black, firm, uneven,
and covered with heavy timber, beach and oak principally.

From Mount Sterling to Danville, called first rate land,
it is generally black as your hat, but in many places, for instance
on the margin of creeks, it has a grayish color, and resembles
calcined stone, and has a light crumbling appearance;
the growth is locust, cherry, and walnut; very low, as I remarked
before. I do not think it produces better than Kenhawa
bottom. It is well watered. Some of the farms are wretchedly
managed. I was told these were the School lands.

Upon leaving Danville, a very handsome little town, the
timber gradually diminishes, and you are soon in the barrens,
and the soil changes to a redish, or chocolate color, and very
little water: but the land is rich and level. I forgot to inform
you that I met with Mrs. Madison, the celebrated Patrick
Henry’s sister. She has removed to the barrens, and has an
excellent farm. I dined at her house. She has two sons who
live with her, both single; also, a grand daughter. She is
quite an active woman, and very little inferior, it is said, to
her brother, in mental powers. Seeing a house on the road,
some distance ahead, I sent my servant forward to bespeak
breakfast, concluding it was a tavern. When I rode up, what
was my surprise to find Mrs. Madison, who formerly lived in
the same county I did. I was invited in; but my companions,
finding it was a private house, road on. But to return:—these
barrens have no timber but black Jack. They continue to
Red river, in Tennessee, one hundred miles. They are not a
dead, or prairie like level, but rather waving.

Next to this comes on the lofty timbered black rich soil,
and large grape vines, and continues to Nashville. Upon
leaving Nashville, the red cedar begins, and though the land is
still rich, it is much interrupted with swamps and stones. This
is well watered. This description continues to Fayetteville,
on Elk river, near the southern boundary of the state. There
again we have the black loam and heavy timber, till, within
eighteen miles of Huntsville, when the chocolate land comes
again, like the barrens; though light, it is not destitute of timber;
but water is very scarce; many have to haul the water
three miles in summer.

All these varieties of land extends from the mountains,
on the left, to the Ohio river on the right.

We forded all the rivers in Kentucky and Tennessee, excepting
the Kentucky river, which is very often forded.

The Kentuckyans are the handsomest people, by far, in
the United States. They are not only stout men, but have
fine features, and very beautiful complexions.

The Tennesseeans are not so stout as the Kentuckyans,
not so fair, but they are well shaped, and more active. There 6 6(1)v 42
is a native bold independence in both, with this difference—
the Kentuckyans are great brags, whilst the Tennesseeans,
equally brave and gallant, are wholly unconscious of those virtues.
The Kentuckyan is rash and hot headed—the Tennesseean
is cool and steady. The Kentuckyan is froward and
assuming—the Tennesseean is modest and retiring. There is
an independence, even in the children, which is neither awed by
fear nor won by love. But what astonished me was their careless
indifference on the subject of their late gallant achievements,
particularly at New Orleans. They spoke of it with perfect
unconcern, and only mentioned it when applied to, and then
with not half the same interest they would on the subject of
hunting or killing a deer. Not so the Kentuckyans: they appreciate
their bravery in its widest extent. Nor are the
Tennesseeans so distinguished as the former for industry, or
the art of acquiring wealth; though both are great jockeys.

The Kentucky ladies are very large, but are fair and well
featured, and much more polished (excepting the ladies of Nashville)
than the ladies of Tennessee: but the latter are better
shaped; are very artless; and the young women have a sweet
simplicity in their looks and countenance. Both men and
women are without disguise, nor have they any of that impertinent
curiosity common to other states; I mean that of teazing
travellers. But the most distinguishing trait of a Tennesseean
is, that he treats all men alike—the Nabob, with his
splendid equipage, receives no more, nor as much attention,
as the pedestrian. They are extremely jealous of wealthy, or
what we call big, men. One of them, as I came on, being
asked rather peremptorily, by one of the big bugs to rub down
his horse, cursed him, and told him to “do it yourself—I am
no man’s servant” He then offered money and apologized;
but the brave Tennesseean was not to be hired.

Letter XVII.

Now here is the twentieth letter I have written, without
receiving an answer to one of them, until to-day—and that is
no answer I may say. What are you about? Have you got
the blues again, or blacks; or are you in love? I have been
thinking your complaint is altogether a love matter—I am
told it has that effect sometimes. Should that be the case, you
had better apply to Dr. Matrimony at once, as delays are dangerous.
Cupid is a cunning rogue—very likely he has given
you a sly shot in your sleep.

But seriously, I am sorry to hear you mend so slow. I
am convinced this climate would restore you. It is summer
here, compared to our country: the trees, many of them, are
still green.

Huntsville. You will expect something of this
flourishing town. It takes its name from a man called Captain
Hunt, who built the first cabin on the spot, where the Court
House now stands, in 18021802. In front of this cabin, which was
built on a high bluff, there was a large pond, which is now
nearly filled up by the citizens. Captain Hunt cleared a small
field west of his cabin, the same year. This was between his
cabin and the Huntsville Spring. He spent much of his time
in wageing war with the rattlesnakes, who were very numerous
in his day, and had entire possession of the Bluff at the
Spring. Thousands of them, it appears, were lodged amongst
the rocks, and the Captain would shoot hundreds of a day, by
thrusting long canes filled with powder, into the scissuresOpen note a12-rota When they were digging the vault for the Huntsville Bank, they found a vast
number of snake skeletons. of
the rocks.

Whether Hunt, or the snakes acquired victory, I have
not heard, as he was compelled to abandon his settlement to a
more successful rival, who purchased the land. This was
Colonel L. Pope, who, in company with Dr. Maning, and
others, purchased the land at a Land Office opened in Nashville; 6(2)v 44
and though this sale did not stand, these gentlemen at
this time own vast bodies of land around Huntsville, and are
the wealthiest men in the Territory. Colonel Pope, it is said,
tried hard to have the name changed, to “Twickenham”, after the
residence of his namesake (and from whom it is said he is
descended) in England. But, places, somehow or other, will
retain their first names. The land around Huntsville, and
the whole of Madison county, of which it is the capital, is rich
and beautiful as you can imagine; and the appearance of wealth
would baffle belief. The town stands on elevated ground, and
enjoys a beautiful prospect. It contains about 260 houses,
principally built of brick; has a bank, a court house., and market
house. There is a large square in the centre of the town,
like the towns in Ohio, and facing this are the stores, twelve
in number. These buildings form a solid wall, though divided
into apartments.Open note a13-rota The [Gap in transcription—1 wordflawed-reproduction]had [Gap in transcription—2 wordsflawed-reproduction] Philadelphia, or any town east of the Allegheny. The workmanship is the best I have
seen in all the states; and several of the houses are three stories
high, and very large. There is no church. The people
assemble in the Court House to worship. Huntsville is settled
by people mostly from Georgia and the Carolinas—though
there are a few from almost every part of the world;—and the
town displays much activity. The citizens are gay, polite,
and hospitable, and live in great splendor. Nothing like it in
our country.

Letter XVIII.

To go on. The Huntsville Spring, is a great natural
curiosity. This you, as well as myself, heard before. But I
had no conception of it. It flows from under the Bluff mentioned,
and forms a stream large enough for the purposes of 6(3)r 45
navigation, and empties into Indian Creek, also navigable.
The head of the spring is about sixty yards wide, but spreads
out to a much greater length, covering about three acres of
ground!!! The Bluff, at its head, forms a perpendicular of 60
or 70 feet in height, perhaps more, and is conical.

Huntsville is situated in latitude 34° 45″, 18 miles from
the line of Tennessee, 100 South from Nashville, and 10 miles
north of Ditto’s Landing on Tennessee river.

General Coffee. Last evening I had the pleasure
of seeing this renowned soldier and companion of General
Jackson. This hero, of whom you have heard so much, is
upwards of six feet in height, and proportionally made. Nor
did I ever see so fine a figure. He is 35 or 36 years of age.
His face is round and full, and features handsome. His complexion
is ruddy, though sunburnt. His hair and eyes black,
and a soft serenity diffuses his countenance. His hair is
carelessly thrown one side, in front, and displays one of the
finest foreheads in nature—high, smoothe, and retreating.
His countenance has much animation, while speaking, and his
eyes sparkle; but the moment he ceases to speak, it resumes
its wonted placidness, which is a characteristic of the Tennesseeans.

In General Coffee, I expected to see a stern, haughty,
fierce, warrior. No such thing. You look in vain for that
rapidity with which he marched and defeated the Indians at
Tallashatches: nor could I trace in his countenance the swiftness
of pursuit, and sudden defeat of the Indians again at
Emuckfau; much less his severe conflicts at the head of his
gallant men at New Orleans. He is as mild as the dew drop;
but deep in his soul you see very plain that deliberate, firm,
cool, and manly courage, which has covered him with glory.
He must be a host when he is roused. All these Tennesseeans
are mild and gentle, except they are excited, which is hard to
do; but when they are once raised, it is victory or death.—
General Coffee speaken very slow, and may weigh about 200
weight. Major Rose, another of the heroes, is a Scotch gentleman,
but a Tennessee soldier. You have not to look very
deep for the qualities of his mind. It is plainly depicted in 6(3)v 46
his fine open countenance, and soft blue eye. He is a middle
aged man, of portly size, and acted in the Quartermaster’s
Department in the late war. This man, from the land of Wallace
and Bruce, was in high favor with General Jackson; and
his labors in procuring supplies for the army were unequalled
by any thing in history. He rode from the seat of war to
Huntsville, very often, without sleep or rest! proceeding night
and day express: when one horse would give out he would
press another. I am called to dinner.

Letter XIX.

I left off with Major Rose, the merriest soul in the
world. He is nothing but frolic and fun. He and Mrs. Rose
have often called, and nothing pleases me better than his broad
Scotch face. He is a merchant, and generally drops in in the
evening, to take a game of backgammon, with Talbot, the
landlord. It is ludicrous enough to hear their mock quarrels,
cursing each other at every word. “Tell the d—d old b—r
to come in—I’ll be at him, by the Lard will I. Mariah,” Miss
Talbot “set away the chairs, and stir up the fire, and draw up
tables, and hop round—be brisk—you will never get married
while you squeeze yourself up in them d—d coarse setts, and
stuff them pan handlesOpen note a14-rota It was said that there was but two panaleft with handles on them in Huntsville—
one of these belonged to Mrs. T. which she keeps under lock and key. down your b—.” This beats us all
hollow, Matt. They are, however, the most generous of the
human race.Open note a15-rota Since this the author has been surprised at the difference of the Atlantic people
from these—they do not, it is true, swear, but are as hard hearted as the flinty rock.

General Brahan, Benjamin Patterson, Esq. (the cousin
of our friend,) Messrs. Reed and Cox, the latter Cashier of
the Bank, and Dr. Bradford, are all the citizens I have been 6(4)r 47
introduced to. General Brahan, of the late war, is a prince,
in whatever light he may be viewed. He is polite and affable;
of great size; handsome person; of middle age, and a man of
great wealth. Mr. Reed, a merchant, is also a stout gentlemanly
man, and said to be wealthy. Patterson is quite young,
and one of the finest men in the world. Cox is a crusty old
man, and a bachelor—but the dogs may take him for me.

I tried to see Colonel Pope, one of the first men in Madison
county; but he was absent. He lives at the edge of the
town.

Mr. Patton, formerly of Monroe county, whom you knew
well, and who set out poor, is now one of the richest men in
the territory. This fortune he has acquired solely by his own
industry and enterprize. Mr. Patton is much respected in
Huntsville, and is the proprietor of large plantations, stock,
&c. Madison county alone contains more wealth than half
west Virginia! But more of it when I have been longer in the
country.

Letter XX.

Not willing to break in on the thread of my journey, I
send you a few particulars of Tennessee, of which you anxiously
expressed a wish to be informed. I only stopped one
day at Nashville, to rest, and had no opportunity to learn
much of the state, though I have picked up a few anecdotes
of it in this place.

I learn that, next to General Jackson, General Carroll is
the idol of the people. As I travelled through the state, I
asked the people “what they would do when they lost General
Jackson—that I supposed they would hardly fight under any
other man?” They replied, “that they would almost as soon
fight under General Carroll, or General Coffee.” Astonishing 6(4)v 48
how these men doat on their officers. It would be a serious
matter to say any thing against them in this country. General
Carroll, as well as General Jackson, are worshipped as
Deities.

When General Carroll was descending the Mississippi
with his troops, to join General Jackson at New Orleans, he
used to exercise his men by moonlight on the decks of the
boats, as they floated down the river, to fit them for the conflict
with the British, which awaited them on their arrival.
General Carroll is said to be a mild good natured man, and
contributed no little to the brilliant victory of New Orleans.
He commanded the centre of the American line.

I understand a work is now in press, written by one of
Jackson’s aids, Major Eaton, in which we are to have the
principal incidents of the battles, and a sketch of the principal
officers. For the rest, Judge Kelly, Judge Haywood, Felix
Grundy, and Counsellor Whiteside are reckoned the first men
in Tennessee, and rank high at the bench and the bar. Mr.
Hayze, whom we knew in Virginia, is tolerable hazy you
know, but is much respected. He lives in Nashville, and
called to see me at the inn. Grundy is said to be the first
orator in Tennessee. He is a pupil of the celebrated Doctor
Priestly, once President of Columbia College at Nashville.

Of General Jackson, I shall say nothing till I see him,
which pleasure I expect at Melton’s Bluff, head of the Muscle
Shoals, where I shall be in a few days.

N. B.—Do not be afraid, I will notice all the big things,
and you may guess at the little ones.

Letter XXI.

After packing up last evening for the Bluff, I sat musing
in my parlour, when all at once my ear was saluted with 7(1)r 49
the sound of mirth and jollity below. Eager to learn what
was going on, I descended to the parlour, and there I found
the sweet girl, the grave matron, the sparkling belle, the conceited
fop, the modest young gentleman, vetran soldier, and
a sociable old planter. They were all talking and laughing
about the gas, (all the rage,) planting cotton, courting, philosophy,
biography, &c. Every one expressed themselves with
freedom and good humour; but I perceived great deference
was paid to the old planter, a Virginian by birth, immensely
rich, and a widower.

I had scarcely seated myself when my landlady, a sprightly
black-eyed woman, and no fool either, joked the old planter
about the girls. “Poh, poh.” said the planter, “I don’t care
a cent about the girls: why they won’t let such an old fellow
come within a squirrel’s jump of ’em.” “But you must persevere
—don’t give up the ship—I’ll engage you will succeed—
many a girl would jump at you.” “Faith, that’s the greatest fault
I find with them; but instead of jumping at me, they jump away;
and if I offer to lay my hand on one, she runs and squalls, as
though I were a robber, and were tempting her life.” “But,”
says the sprightly Mrs. Mosely, “there you are wrong: no
one offers to touch a lady in these days. I am surprised at
you. When you court a girl, you must set off at a distance
and talk to her; and write verses in her praise, and send
them to her; the old time’s fashion, when you and my mother
were young people, will not do now-a-days.” “The d—l it
won’t; then they may all die old maids for me. I tell you
what, Mrs. M., I think the gals was as virtuous in my young
days, and may be, a little more so, then they are now—and
many an arm have I laid round ’em, see.” “Oh, fie! don’t
talk so—you will make the ladies faint. These were old times,
the fashions have changed.” “Faith, I believe so; but it is
from good to bad. I am opposed to all these new kick-ups.
Whenever I see a gal so very coy and prudish, and won’t let
a man come near her, it gives me a bad opinion of her; and
I’ll tell you why—when I was a young man, I happened to be
at a ball—your mother was there too. So, there was one gal
there; a m—i—g—h—t—y precise creature, and would not let me 7 7(1)v 50
touch the tip of her finger. ‘No, Sir, I do n—’t d—a—n—c—e
t—o—n—i—g—h—t,’ and primped up and tossed her head, and cried
out to a friend, sitting by her, ‘how odious it was, for men
to be taking hold of ladies’ hands—she was surprised at my
presumption;’ and not long after this, this same nice lady met
with a misfortune ladies, which I leave you to guess. Ever
since that I marks ’em—I has my own opinion of ’em.” “La,
what nonsense,” said the belle; “such talk ar quite ridiculous.”

While the old planter and the ladies were conversing,
Mr. Fop and the young gentleman were engaged in an analasys
of the gases. “And what is gas?” inquired Mrs.
Mosely: “I hear nothing but gas, gas, gas, where I go—
and I know no more about it than a monkey. I have asked
hundreds, and either they, or I, must be fools: Not a soul that
I meet can explain it in terms I can comprehend. They stuff
it with such a number of outrageous hard words, that I could
understand Greek sooner. Now, gentlemen, do if you please,
tell me in plain words what is this gas.” She looked at Mr.
Fop as she spoke, who being appealed to, cocked his head, spit,
and hemmed; and edging his chair towards the ladies, said:
“Have you never read Accam’s theoretical, practical, chymistry,
Madam?” “No, I have not,” said Mrs. M., in a pet,
“and I should not understand a word of it if I had. I despise
your theoreticals and practicals. I understand none of your
hard names. If you cannot tell me, in plain English, what
gas is; where it comes from; and what it is made of; or
whether made at all, or not, you need say no more. I am sick
of the gases.” Now, thought I, I shall hear what these gases
are at last. She will certainly get it out of him. “There
are several sorts of gases”—“Oh, if you have more than
one gas, I am sure I will never understand it, so you may
stop at once—just tell me what is gas!” “Gas, Madam, is
a combination of certain substances, reduced to a gaseous state,
formed by adding a solvent substance, and by their joint
formation.” “Thank you, Sir, I have heard enough of it,”
said the lady, very short and illnatured. She must be one of
the Honourables, as he took it all in good humour.

The old planter, who had listened attentively, said, “faith 7(2)r 51
Mrs. M. this is more of your new fangled fashions, I suppose.
What the d—l it means I don’t know. It is like your new
fashion of wooing. I mean no disparagement to you, ladies
and gentlemen; but I thingk the good old times were the best;
and I never herd a word about Gashes, or what you may call
it. Landlord, times are dry, hand round some wine.” I was
pleased to hear the order, though I could not join them, as I
wished to hear the old man talk another talk.

A little bustle succeeded, but in a short time all were seated
again; when I asked Mrs. M. if she gave up the gases?—
The other young gentleman blushing deeply, and regarding
Mrs. M. earnestly, at first, faultering, but growing firm as he
proceeded, (being very young) addressing himself to the ladies
expressed himself nearly as follows: “Gas is a fluid substance,
and is similar to air. It is transparent like water; and like
water, elastic, forcing itself to its level. It is heavy, but invisible.
It cannot be affected by cold, but can by heat. Gas
exists throughout nature. There is gas, more or less, in all
substances; and all gases (for as my friend said, there are
several kinds of gas) are a combination of substances, such as
common salt and water; to these add half their weight of sulphuric
acid; heat applied to these, gas is produced, and may
be collected by an instrument suited to the purpose; but to
retain it, it must be placed over mercury. There is gas in all
substances, and of three distinct kinds, viz: Oxygen, hydrogen,
and nitrogen, gas. These are produced by different processes,
and their properties differ: Oxygen gas, for instance, is indispensable
to the respiration of animals—it is the cause of animal
heat. In its artificial state, it will, when brought into
contact with any combustion, burn, and emit a flame. Hydrogen
gas, is what was formerly called inflammable air. Animals
will die in it instantly, as they cannot breathe in it, though
vegetables will grow in it. When brought in contact with
atmospheric air, or what is the same thing, oxygen gas, it
will burn fiercely. Nitrogen gas, in its primitive state, will
not burn on touching combustion. In chymistry it has various
uses. It is a component part of all animal substances, and 7(2)v 52
communicates to them their most distinctive characters.” He
concluded by adding, that he “had a very limited knowledge
of the gases, having but just commenced the study of chymistry,
and that it was a science the most difficult of all others to explain
to those who have not a practical knowledge of the
same.” Loud were the plaudits of the ladies; and the old planter
said, “the young man must take a glass of wine with him:
he spoke like a man of sense, though he (the planter) did not
understand his argufication.” The party ended with a dance,
and I retired shortly after they commenced, as I had to rise
betimes.

Letter XXII.

I was three days on the road to this place. Melton’s
Bluff is at the head of Mussel Shoals. But to see more of the
lands shortly to be sold, I went direct to the foot of the Shoals,
70 miles from Huntsville, crossed the river, and came up on
the south side of Tennessee river. We had a soaking rain
the first day, but the road was fine, the country being a level
plain, and the land as rich as any in the world, doubtless, and
well watered. Many houses are already built on the road side,
and good entertainment. The lady, however, where we staid
the first night, said it was very sickly.

The second day, towards evening, as Mr. Beech (my
fellow traveller) and I were at our ease, chatting on different
subjects, my servant, behind us, cried out “Looky! looky!
what a great river!” We had heard a roaring sometime, and
Mr. B. who was acquainted with the country, observed we
could not be far from the foot of the Shoals. Upon turning
our horses out of the road a few steps, we saw the river—a
most sublime picture it was! That part which first burst on 7(3)r 53
our view, was three miles in width! the largest body of water I
ever saw. It was at this time very high and muddy; and the
noise produced by the water washing over the rocks was
tremendous.

We saw a boat hung on a rock, about the middle of the
stream, and many persons around it on the rocks, endeavoring
to get it off; the waves and white caps were dashing furiously
around them; and unable even to hail them, we proceeded,
being near our destination.

The sun was verging upon the horizon, while I was
musing upon the fall in the river (which was evident.) Having
travelled over level ground from Huntsville, we began to
descend rapidly, almost a precipice, the road making a sudden
bend to the left; and shortly the house, at which we were
to spend the night, stood before us, on the bank of the river.
But it here flowed in a smoothe current; yet, upon looking up
the river, the wide spreading Shoals were seen. The grandeur
of the scene engrossed my attention, until night fall compelled
me to retire into the house.

Upon entering the tavern, I had the pleasure of meeting
with the Reverend Gideon Blackburn, the same who civilized
the Cherokee Indians. I had heard of Mr. Blackburn often.
He is represented as a man of superior talents, both as a
divine and a politician, and rendered his country many signal
benefits in co-operating with General Jackson last war, in
raising the necessary requisites for the army. He is a stout
coarse featured man, of middle age, and very distant in his
manners; but has great expression of countenance, and every
mark of a sensible man. He did not seem pleased with the
house, and crossed the river, late as it was, to seek a lodging
elsewhere. It was a great disappointment to me, as I promised
myself much pleasure in his society. The landlord,
and a number of boatmen had been drinking freely, which, I
suspect, displeased the Parson.—The lady of the house, a very
beautiful and accomplished woman, was no less sorry, adding,
she had known him from her infancy.

Mr. Beech going no farther, I took a guide, one of the
pilots, and crossed the river next morning, in a ferry boat. 7(3)v 54
I should have found it difficult, on account of several creeks
which were backed up by the river, without a guide. The
Tennessee river is wider at the foot of the Shoals than the
Ohio, at any part I have seen, and equally beautiful, perhaps
superior. It has not those high banks which confine the Ohio,
if we except what the people, in this country call Bluffs.
These are steep ledges of rocks which appear at very considerable
intervals, sometimes on one side of the river, and
sometimes on the other—and from appearances I would suppose
it often inundates the bottom lands. These are covered
with cane, as thick as the hairs on your head, and look like
so many fields of green wheat. These, contrasted with the
leafless forest, are singularly beautiful. Not only the islands,
but the bottoms are so thickly covered with cane, that you
could not see a man on horseback five steps from you.

Letter XXIII.

Upon leaving the ferry, I was pensive and melancholy;
for, being told by my guide I was to pass several Indian
farms, it struck a damp on my spirits, of which he was unconscious.
He speaks of the Indians and their departure with
perfect indifference.

On leaving the river the beauties of this deservedly extolled
country broke on my view by degrees. To compare it
with the Elysian fields of the ancients, would give but a feeble
idea of it. The diminutive vale of Tempe and their thousand
sylvan shades, vanish into nothing, compared with this. As
you are partial to any thing I say or do, I shall throw my
thoughts together for your amusement, and you may arrange
them at your leisure.

It is unnecessary to state what you have learned from
the newspapers, that this land was abandoned last fall by the
Indians. The fires were still smoking, when the white people
took possession. Although I had travelled through a beautiful
country, the two preceding days, and my mind had been
raised to the highest pitch of expectation by repeated descriptions
of this land; yet, it far exceeded all I anticipated. On
quitting the impervious river-bottom, I emerged into an open
country, high and dry. The exuberance of cane and timber
subsides. This enables the eye to see a great distance—no
hill nor dale—neither is it a perfect level; but the surface is
gently undulating, or alternately elevated or depressed like
waves. The eye can range without controul in all directions.
This is what charms; and this I was not prepared for.

But what struck me with most wonder was, that I always
appeared to occupy the highest ground; and, all from that
point, seemed to descend; and when I gained the extreme
boundary of view from a given point, it was the same thing
as before—this appeared the highest; that which I had left,
the lowest. A warm hospitality seemed to breathe among the
trees: they have something cheering in their aspect. They
do not terrify by their gigantic looks—they open on all sides,
as if to let you pass, and welcome your approach. The sun
throws a shining lustre over them. How unlike the cold,
dreary, hard frozen hills of Monroe, or in fact any thing in
our country.

About ten o’clock we came in sight of the first Indian
farm—but Indian farm no longer! The smoke was issuing
slowly through the chimney. Why, these Indians have been
like us!—could not be savage—cornfields—apple trees, and
peach trees. Fences like ours, but not so high—trusted to
their neighbor’s honesty—perhaps these being more civilized
had more reason to fear their neighbor. Provoked with my
guide because he could not tell me the original cause of these
enclosures among the Indians—from four to five rails high—
this would not do among us—’twould breed a civil war.—
There were the lusty corn-stalks—looked grayish—some were
standing erect, some were broken off at the middle and hung 7(4)v 56
together still, some were prostrate. The house looked tight
and comfortable; the fruit-trees are large, and show age—
there the Indian sat under their shade, or stood up and plucked
the apples—wonder he did not plant more—suppose he did
not know how to make cider. Blockhead!—better than
whiskey.

My guide says peaches are delightful in this country.

Poor Gourd! That was the Indian’s name; had he still
been there, I would have called to see him: but I felt no desire
to see his successor. Guide says Gourd was very kind; he
knew him for fifteen years. He helped to subdue the Creeks,
and made an excellent soldier. There was a portico over the
door—there Gourd used to sit in the warm summer days. We
rode close to the fence, built by his hands, or perhaps his
wife’s; no matter which it was, it was no less dear!—It was
his home! The sun, at this moment, overcast with clouds,
threw a solemn gloom upon the Indian farm. Nothing moved
but the smoke from the chimney—all was silent and hushed
as death!—Poor Gourd had to leave his home, his cornfield,
and his apple trees.

There could not exist a greater evidence of unbounded
avarice and ambition which distinguished the Christian world,
than the one that lay before me. There was a time when the
owners of this beauteous country flattered themselves that
distance alone would screen them from the intrusion of the
whites. Vain hope!

Absorbed in pensiveness, I heeded not the loquacity of my
servant and guide, who cared for none of these things. My
guide tripped lightly along—a tall keen man. I proposed that
my servant should walk and let him ride; but he refused; said
he would rather walk. “But you will have to swim presently,”
said he. “How so? I would rather not.” “Your horses, I
mean; you cross Town Creek, in a canoe, and swim your
horses; this will cost you one dollar.” “One dollar!” These
white people I thought are greedy. Shortly after this we
came to the house where the man lived who was to have the
dollar—another Indian house, and I hastened to view the
interior. It was a roomy tight built cabin, similar to many 8(1)r 57
you have seen. The logs are round, very light, and lie
close upon each other. The door was the only singularity:—
It was as high as common doors, but not more than half as
wide.

As I sat musing upon the ups and downs of this life, I was
roused by the man who was to put us over, observing, “I
can’t tell what’s to be done about putting you over Town
Creek. Some of my good neighbours, on the other side, has
cut down four or five trees into the crossing; and it is almost
impossible to cut them away, as the Creek is high, and they
have to be cut in such a manner, (the ends of them lying on
the land,) as the water may float them off.” “But can we
not find another place by going higher up the Creek?” “No!
Impossible! and it will be a hard job, if it can be done at all.
There is no possible way but to stand in the canoe, to the danger
of our lives.” “Then,” said I, “we will return, and
await the falling of the river.” I saw through the matter at
once; he wished to have something extra; and had he not been
a sharper, I would have given him something extra. Now see
these white people! These Christians! His Christian neighbours
felled the trees in the stream, and he wanted to filch the
damage out of me! So would not the Indians!—“Oh, we
will go and see what can be done. Shall I help you on your
horse? The Creek is a good step off.”

A few minutes brought us to Town Creek; and there were
the trees, sure enough—cut near the margin—four of them;
and all their tops lying piled on each other, precisely where
our horses were to land. None but a fiend would have
thought of such hellish malice, and such an ingenious piece of
mischief too. I should never have dreamed of it.

Leaving the horses on this side, the ferryman and Rhea,
(my guide’s name,) and my servant, crossed over, and commenced
chopping the trees, at the surface of the stream, some
alternately holding the canoe to the place.

I sat down on a log, and taking a newspaper to pass the
time; behold! a long holding forth upon converting the Indians,
was the first thing that struck my eye! I would have a much 8 8(1)v 58
better opinion of robbers and pirates, than such men: they do
not belie their trade.

In a quarter of an hour the trees were removed, and I,
with my horses, were safely on the other side; and do you
think the fellow had not the impudence to ask seventy-five
cents extra, after drinking between them a bottle of whiskey,
which I gave them as a treat, and Rhea and my servant also
assisting them!! “No, Sir,” said I, “I will advertise you
as a sharper besides!” Give him seventy-five cents extra! I
was on the rong side of the river for that. Rhea said I had
two more creeks to pass! Big Nance, (called after a woman
by that name, who lived there.) These, however, were easily
forded—and chatting with Rhea, I learned he was from Rockbridge
county, Virginia; had piloted boats through the Muscle
Shoals, fifteen years; sometimes four at a time, at ten dollars
each. He sails down one day, and walks back the next. He
never met, in all that time, with an accident! There are several
of these pilots.

You cannot imagine a sight so beautiful as this country
exhibits to this place. But the sight of the Bluff at a mile’s
distance, fairly entranced me. It is an even high plain, and
resembles a hanging garden. The sun favored us with his
rays as we drew in sight, and shed a beautiful lustre on the
Bluff.—This land is so clear of undergrowth that you may
drive a wagon any where through the woods; and this body
extends, I am told, twenty miles in width. We passed many
Indian houses in the day, and some beautiful springs.

Letter XXIV.

Melton’s Bluff is a town, and takes its name from a
person by the name of John Melton, a white man, deceased 8(2)r 59
two years since, at an advanced age. Various stories are
related of this man; but all agree in this: that he was an Irishman
by birth; became displeased with the white people;
attached himself to the Cherokee Indians; married a squaw,
and settled at this place many years ago; that, with the assistance
of the Indians, he used to rob the boats which passed
down the river, and murder the crews. By these means he
became immensely rich; owned a great number of slaves;
most of whom he robbed from these boats. Thus ’t is said he
continued his piracies until the treaty between the United
States and the Cherokees.

He had several children by his Indian wife, one of whom
married Rhea, the pilot. After peace was signed with the
Indians, Melton lived quietly at home, and cultivated his
farm; but towards the latter part of his life he became alarmed
from the threats of the Creeks, and removed over the
river, where he also had a large farm, and built a fine house,
(which I have seen,) and died rich in a good old age. Most
of his children married white people.

He used to keep a house of entertainment at Melton’s Bluff,
after his piracies ceased; and kept an excellent house. His
table was furnished with the best of liquors, meat, coffee, and
tea, and all prepared in the best manner. I met with a gentleman
who spent a week at Melton’s house, in company with
six others. He said he never fared better in any part of the
United States: but their bill was excessively high.

I saw and conversed with many of Melton’s slaves;
amongst whom was a cook whom he purchased in Baltimore,
at a very high price, as a first rate cook. She said that Mrs.
Melton would sometimes take it into her head to go into the
kitchen, (particularly when she took a dram,) and kick up a
dust with her about the dinner. Mrs. M. wanted to model the
cooking to her own mind, that is, Indian fashion. She, the
cook, being responsible to her master for the forthcoming of
the dinner would go to her master; upon which the old man
would sally forth, with whip in hand, and if fair words failed,
the horsewhip always restored order.

You recollect Rhea whom I have mentioned: he married 8(2)v 60
one of Melton’s daughters—a most amiable woman, and very
lame. When the Cherokee Indians abandoned this territory
last fall, some of them went up the river to the Cherokee nation,
there to remain, till boats were provided for their removal to
the west, by the government; others went directly down the
river to Arkansas—of whom Rhea’s wife was one. The order
for their departure was sudden and unexpected.Open note a18-rota Such was the eagerness of the white people to possess these lands, that the fires
were not extinguished when they took possession. Rhea, at
that time was absent from home, but returned on the same
day, and learning what had happened, was almost frantic—
jumped into a canoe, and soon overtook the boats. He flew to
his wife, and clasped her in his arms. Neither spoke a word,
but both wept bitterly. In a few moments he resumed his
canoe and returned to the Bluff, and she went on. They had
no children.

Whether Rhea was prohibited by the treaty from accompanying
his wife, or whether he was under a prior engagement,
none here are able to inform me—but certain it is, he is
now married to a white woman.

You have heard that this country consists of table and
bottom land, also, of the Bluffs. These Bluffs happen where
there is no bottom land, but the table land running up to the
river forms a high precipice, called a Bluff. This is the case
at Melton’s Bluff, the highest I have seen. Here is a very
large plantation of cotton and maize, worked by about sixty
slaves, and owned by General Jackson, who bought the interest
of old Melton.

No language can convey an idea of the beauties of Melton’s
Bluff. It is said to be the handsomest spot in the world, off
the seabord; and rich as it is beautiful. I can sit in my room
and see the whole plantation; the boats gliding down the river,
and the opposite shore, one mile distant. The ducks, geese,
and swans, playing at the same time on the bosom of the stream,
with a full view of the many islands. It is, after all, the great
height of the site that pleases.

I took a walk with some ladies to-day over the plantation,
as we wished to have a nearer view of those snowy fields, which
so sedulously present themselves to our view, together with 8(3)r 61
orchards, gin houses, gardens, Melton’s mansion, and a considerable
negro town.

We approached the mansion, by a broad street, running
up the river bank east of the town. This street seems suspended
between heaven and earth, as the whole premises for two
miles, all in sight, appears to be elevated above the horizon,
and none above the rest. We entered the court yard, fronting
the house, by a stile; and the first thing we met was a large
scaffold overspread with cotton: as it was in the seed, their
must have been many thousands of pounds. Being damp from
dew, and often rain, it must be dried in this manner. The
mansion was large, built with logs, shingled roof, and may
have been built 25 or 30 years since. I recoiled at the sight
of a place once the habitation of such a monster. Some of our
party went in: I did not. General Jackson’s overseer, who
joined us here, said he lived in the lower story, the upper
being filled with cotton. The scaffold was about four feet
from the ground. From this we crossed another fence, and
found ourselves in a cotton field of about one hundred acres,
white with cotton and alive with negroes. The centre of this
field is said to be the rallying point of viewing the scenery; as
it doubtless is. You can see up to Brown’s Ferry, eight miles
distant, with the naked eye—and the same distance down.—
The term “beauty” is applied to any thing which excites pleasant
feelings. Beauty is said to be a uniformity amidst variety;
a proportion of parts adapted to a whole; fitness of things
to an end; quantity and simplicity. All this is realised on
the scenery of Melton’s Bluff. Here is a noble river which
combines in itself all you can conceive of grandeur and utility,
adorned with islands spangled with boats, and enlivened with
wild fowl. Lift your eye from the river, and lo! magnificent
fields, white as snow, orchards, farms, and houses, all in view,
without moving out of the spot. You may thus form some
idea of this farfamed Bluff. Here the green islands look like
floating meadows. Here the boatman wields his massy oar,
and guides his freighted boat along. Here the wild fowl
arrayed in glossy plumes, wantons as she lists. Here the distant
billows breaking o’er the Shoals, echo back in murmuring 8(3)v 62
sounds, and mingling sweetly with the music of the boatman’s
viol, swells upon the ear and softly dies away upon the breeze.
To crown the whole, here the majestic swan, robed in dazzling
white, moves in all her graceful attitudes. These are
beauties which may be felt but cannot be described. This
combination of objects, each beautiful in itself, and so materially
useful, constitutes the beauty of Melton’s Bluff. All
the trade of East Tennessee passes by the Bluff, and halt here
to take in their pilots.

Letter XXV.

Now comes the cotton field again. As you complain of
long letters, I will please you if it can be done. This is the
first cotton field I have ever been in. It appears an endless business
when we cast our eye over so vast a plain of white with a
production, the gathering of which is to be effected by the
application of the fingers to every individual pod; and those
pods as thick as they can stand one by the side of the other.
It is discouraging indeed. But these negroes have great
patience, and seem to be cut out for the business. Here are
from 40 to 50, who scarcely seem to move out of one place;
nor can you tell which way they are going. They face about
to every point. Some are erect, and others stooping, and all
their hands move very fast. It is very light work; and the
climate is so mild, they work out the whole winter.

It requires practice to be a good picker; an expert hand
will pick about 100 weight per day. It is planted in drills from
three to four feet asunder. The stem sends out branches from
the bottom to the top, so dense, that you think it is sown like
wheat. The branches extend from one row to the other, and
so intermingle. It is worked in the same manner you do
Indian corn until it blooms, and the first frost that comes, 8(4)r 63
and even before some of the pods open, whilst others are
only in bloom. As soon as it opens, the picking begins; but
this requires double the hands it took in the cultivation.
These go regularly over the field, and by that time, a number
of pods which were not open on the first picking, are now
ready, and they return to where they first began, and go over
the same ground, and so on the whole winter. Large quantities
are burnt for want of hands to get it out of the way of
the plow, for the plowing must commence at the usual time;
and they set fire to rid it out of the way. I asked why
they did not give it gratis to the poor? without reflecting that
every man, woman, and child, able to work, were engaged
till the last moment. Children of twelve years of age, and
often under, make 75 cents per day. The land is amazingly
fertile on the Bluff. We measured one of the stalks and found
it 6 feet 6 inches high. From the field we sauntered along to
the cotton-gin. Every one who raises cotton, must have a gin.
As we walked along, thousands of paroquets flew over us
in flocks. They are very handsome, green and yellow. The
squirrels were likewise chattering in the trees, shelling their
nuts, whilst the friendly jay was sporting in the boughs, and
the red bird, in his brilliant scarlet plumage, hopping familiarly
before us, and his kindred songsters, were serenading us
in the adjoining forest. It is like our springs, music and
beauty greet you whichever way you move; and yet I am told
foreigners say we have no scenery in America. I do not envy
them their barren heaths and tottering castles. We have one
here, Melton’s castle; but like their own it only serves to
remind us of the rapine and bloodshed of its former owner.

We found a number of boys and horses at the the cotton
gin, which gave variety to our amusement, particularly a
considerable tree pulled round and round by a horse; this
turned a screw which pressed the bales of cotton—the world
and all the boys seem to be made of cotton here—that is all the
description I can give of the thing. The pressing part of it is
something like pressing cyder; but as to the ginning part of it,
with its thousand wheels and saws 8(4)v 64 It would puzzle Apollo Its whimses to follow.

On our return home, we passed two lines of negro cabins.
There were very few but children in them. We found the
cabins warm and comfortable, and well stored with provisions:
General Jackson, to whom they belong, being one of the best of
masters.

As I lingered behind the party, thinking of my own negro
children, the little things flocked round me, and as they were
looking up in my face, eager to be carressed, I discovered the
traces of tears on some of their cheeks. The sight pierced me
to the heart. Oh, slavery, slavery! nothing can soften thee!
thou are slavery still! Is there no hope high heaven?

Letter XXVI.

I am here for the winter, doubtless, and shall while away
the time between writing to you, viewing the country, and
“chatting with the beaux.” As you are desirous to hear a
particular account of this beautiful region, I shall finish what
I began sometime back.

I said the land was divided into bottom, table land, and
Bluffs. It also contains BayousOpen note a19-rota Pronounced Bius. and mountains. The bottom
land is held in little estimation; for, though more fertile than
the table land, it is hard to clear, being thickly covered with
heavy timber, and often not only by these bayous, but often
overflowed; this renders it too wet for cotton, which delights
in dry soil. Those bayous are formed by the water of the
river forsaking the channel, and, running off in various
directions, returns to the river and unites with it again.
The cotton, or table land, is separated from the bottom land,
by the Bluffs, and though they are only called Bluffs where 9(1)r 65
they meet the river, they are evidently the same elivation
which divides the bottom land from the table land. The table land
is not a dead level, but waving, and varies from 20 to 25 miles
wide: then comes the mountain, a narrow strip of pine land,
very little higher than the table land generally, and, though stony,
might be tilled. Then comes the table land again; next
mountain. These varieties run parallel with the Tennessee
river.

Then comes the long moss, sixty miles on this side of
Cahawba, running in the same direction; and beyond it the
table land appears again. In the region of this moss it is
sickly, as it also is, on the rivers; but keep off the rivers and
it is as healthy as any climate, or perhaps more so, than any
part of the Union. There is no such thing as consumptions.
Those families subject to it perfectly recover from it in this
climate. Of this I have been an eye witness.

I saw some of the moss just mentioned. It looks like hay
when cured in the sun, though much finer. It has joints like
timothy grass. A gentleman who brought some of it in his
saddle bags to this place, informed me that it hangs loosely
upon the trees, as though it were thrown on by the hand, and
has no connection whatever with the branch upon which it
hangs. This is most singular. He said that trees of all descriptions
were enveloped with it, from the top to the bottom,
hanging down to the ground; and that cattle lived on it. I
ought to have said that a narrow blade branches out from the
joints of the moss. When it is soaked in water, it discharges
a thin coat with which the stem is enveloped; it is then black,
and resembles horse hair, and matrasses are made out of it.

But to return. This land produces upon an average 1000
pounds of cotton in the seed. Sweet potatoes grow very fine,
and are an article of food for the negroes. Corn grows well,
and, also, wheat; though the weavel destroys it almost instantly;
consequently, as they can buy it cheaper, and turn their
labor and land to better account, by raising cotton, wheat is
not raised. Tobacco, also, grows well, but they prefer the
cotton as more profitable.

I have seen no meadows since I left Tennessee; and though 9 9(1)v 66
clover grows well in Madison county, north of the river, the
soil is said to be unfavorable to grass. Vast numbers of cattle
are raised here upon the cane.

Letter XXVII.

It is now high time to introduce you to the ladies and
gentlemen of this town, city, or what you please to denominate
it. It would be a million of pities not to do so; particularly
a young lady, called the beauty of the Territory. There
are so many pleasing objects here—the climate so mild—and
such a wide and handsome prospect, that I am all delight—like
a bird let out of a cage. But I shall take care not to mount
my hobby, lest I might gallop off to Cahawba, or some other
place.

To begin with my landlord, Colonel Pettis. He is a
young man of handsome appearance, and very good natured—
weighs about 200 weight, though not corpulent. He is a native
of Virginia; lived sometime in Madison, and moved here
about the time I arrived. I was introduced to him in Huntsville,
and knowing he was about to remove her, I was warmly
recommended to him. He is a man of considerable property,
and keeps a house of entertainment for the accommodation of the
innumerable travellers, who, like locusts, cover the land. He
amuses himself in this way, till the land sales approach, when
he designs to purchase and settle himself. His wife, young,
active, genteel, and sprightly, with a sparkling black eye, is a
beautiful woman, and the life and soul of the Bluff, two children,
boys, all they have, and two of his wife’s sisters, a gay young
widow and her child, with the bar-keeper, and myself, compose
the family. But the beauty, Matt, the flower of the
country, is here. She is only fourteen, but her fame extends, 9(2)r 67
and will, doubtless, cause many an aching heart. She is one
of the sisters just mentioned, the handsomest piece of mortality
I ever met with. Her features are without fault; her eyes
are unmatched in expression, as black as shoes; and her cheeks
are like roses. But my pen fails me—her name is Martha
Patrick. Another tavern is kept here, by Major Wyatt, one
of the heroes of New Orleans. The Major, his wife, and his
wife’s sister, with his mother, compose this other family. Besides
these, there are several tipling shows, three stores, an
apothecary shop, two doctors, a hatter’s shop, a ware house,
and several mechanics.

Major Wyatt is by far the most interesting man in the
town, as poor as Job, but brave and generous as a prince. At
the battle of New Orleans, he held a captain’s commission,
and was taken prisoner on the night of the 1814-12-2323d December.
After forcing the British from one position to another, and
dealing death wherever he appeared, deceived by the darkness
of the night, he mistook the British for our own men, and was
taken prisoner. The officer into whose hands he fell, immediately
disarmed him; put him under guard, and treated him
very harshly. Next morning he was exchanged. The next
engagement, Wyatt had the good fortune to take the same
officer prisoner. The officer immediately surrendered his
sword, which Wyatt received, but instantly returned it: shook
him by the hand very friendly, led him to his tent, ordered
refreshments, and setting a bottle of wine before him, after
taking a glass, desired him to make himself happy, and that he
should take the first opportunity of effecting his exchange;
saying this, he hastened to take his station at the head of his
men, leaving the Englishman overwhelmed with shame and
astonishment. Would you believe it, the hero of this Godlike
act was master of nothing at the time but his sword and his
honor, and at this moment is an humble boatman, and pilots
boats through the Shoals! His wife is young, handsome, and
industrious, and attends to the tavern. But Mrs. Wyatt, his
mother, one of the nobility of the Ancient Dominion, poor and
proud, is extremely mortified that her son should have married 9(2)v 68
“so much beneath him.”Open note a20-rota She has a daughter married to Mr. Pope, one of the wealthiest men in Madison. Shocking! She has condescended
to come and spend the winter with Neddy, however,
but she lowers upon her sweet daughter-in-law like a thunder
cloud. This widow of 70, is laced and starched stiff up to the
chin; homely face, but a fine figure, ignorant and proud as
Lucifer, and if I am not much mistaken, would have no objection
to enter into the holy bands of matrimony again. The
young widow of our family, is a daughter of the wealthy Mr.
Foaly, of Natchez. She fell in love and married a Major
Chandler against her father’s consent, who not only refused
to give her a dollar, but forbid her his house.

Chandler was a handsome, accomplished, man, but poor;
and about one year after his marriage, died, and left his wife
with an infant amongst strangers. Mrs. Chandler was found
in this situation by Colonel Pettis, and taken to his house,
where she is treated with kindness and respect. Her father,
who owns about ninety slaves, has sent for her to return to
him, and upon this condition he promises to divide his fortune
with her, General Castleton, his son-in-law, and a son, his
remaining child. But she, as yet, refuses to return to her
parent. She is a very small woman, but handsome and kind
hearted.

To go on with the rest. One of the Doctors, Crab, of
Botetourt, Virginia, I knew, as well as the whole family.
They were respectable, and were formerly of Maryland. The
Doctor is a young widower, tall and slender; and pursues his
profession.

The other Doctor, Roussean, descended from the famous
writer of that name, is also from Virginia, and near Alexandria.
He is a man of genteel manners, young and handsome,
and very sociable. One of the merchants, Mitchell, with his
wife, is from Nashville, Tennessee, the first people on the
Bluff, and are also very pleasant. If we except a little envy
on the part of Mrs. Widow W. we have a very pleasant society
of our own, independent of the flood of travellers which
delight this country, making choice of such lands as they design 9(3)r 69
to purchase at the sales. The whole country exhibits fair
roads, produced by the people allured from all the States to
settle in this beauteous country. Our house is full every
night. In short, there are ten families, which, with the comers
and goers, and the arrival of the boats from East Tennessee,
we have a merry time of it.

N. B. Here is another Jay’s Treaty.

Letter XXVIII.

Good news awaits you: read on! Having collected a few
books, I was devouring Phillip’s Speeches (first sight of the
book) in a corner, when a loud cry, “General Jackson,
General Jackson comes!” and, running to my window, I saw
him walking slowly up the hill, between two gentlemen, his
aids. He was dressed in a blue frock coat, with epaulettes, a
common hat with a black cockade, and a sword by his side.
He is very tall and slender. He walked on by our door to
Major Wyatt’s, his companion in arms, where he put up for the
night, though he called on us that evening and the next morning.
His person is finely shaped, and his features not handsome,
but strikingly bold and determined. He is very easy
and affable in his manners, and loves a jest. He told one of our
party, he was “one of the blue hen’s chickens.” He appears to
be about 50 years of age. There is a great deal of dignity about
him. He related many hardships endured by his men, in the army,
but never breathed a word of his own. His language is pure
and fluent, and he has the appearance of having kept the best
company.

You will recollect he was ordered by the government
against the Seminole Indians. His army is on its march considerably
ahead of him, having crossed at Ditto’s Landing,
up the river, while he came round by this place to see his
plantation and slaves.

The hero of the south, as he is called, left us this morning,
at 10 o’clock, and our best wishes went with him. Upon
seeing him, I called to mind the night I was roused from my
sleep in Charlestown, about midnight, by William Quarrier, who
knocked at my door and proclaimed aloud, “General Jackson
has defeated the British at New Orleans; get up, we are going
to illuminate.” This was the night of the fire-works and rejoicing
upon the news of the victory, which you no doubt well
remember. Many other anecdotes, particularly of his humanity
to the distressed, occured to my mind.

Upon my return once from Ohio, I put up at a Mr. Jones’s,
on Kentucky river. In the course of the conversation, I observed,
“that a new county had been established in Ohio, and
was called Jackson; and not satisfied with this mark of respect,
they called the seat of justice Jackson.” Mrs. Jones observed
they could not have him too much; and it gave her
great pleasure to hear of his hapiness and success; that he had
been the means once of saving herself and her children from
perishing in the wilderness. Mrs. Jones, was the daughter of
Captain Arbuckle, of Greenbrier City, Va. with whom you
must be acquainted, though you may not be with the history
of his daughter, as you are too young.—Her history contains
a most surprising train of incidents, and superior to any
novel. The story is this: Mr. Arbuckle had several handsome
and sensible daughters. One of these was addressed by
a Mr. Jones, and a mutual and deep rooted affection grew up
between them: but Captain A. opposed their union, and forbid
Jones his house; and finally through persuasion and force compelled
his daughter to marry the son of Captain Robertson, a near
neighbour of mine. Upon this, Jones abandoned the country,
and I never heard of him from that day till the night of which
I am now speaking. As soon as Robertson married the girl,
he removed with her to Natchez, and I heard no more of them.
I did see a publication in the newspapers, of a female travelling
through the Indian nation, without protection, and that she,
and six children, entered the state of Kentucky, nearly famished.
Mrs. Jones was the woman! Her own narrative follows:
“I was forced to marry Mr. Robertson and be miserable, 9(4)r 71
or marry Mr. Jones, and render my father miserable; I
preferred the former. All places being alike to me, after this
sacrifice, I accompanied my husband to Natchez. We had
received a handsome beginning from both our fathers, and
were, for some time prosperous. But my husband, at length,
fell in with bad company, and took to gambling and drinking,
and spent the whole of his property.—Meantime we had seven
children, which I partly maintained by my own labour. Finally,
my husband took sick, and after lingering some time,
died, and every thing I had was seized and sold by his creditors,
with the exception of four horses, which I concealed,
with a view of conveying my children and myself to my father
in Virginia. I hired a man to go with me, and departed early
one night, and never stopped till I got over the boundary line
between the white people and the Indians. I had but 8 dollars
and a bushel of meal for myself and children; but I was so
annxious to get out of the reach of the white people, whom I expected
would pursue me, that I travelled without ceasing, or
rest, till the second day about 10 o’clock, when I turned out
my horses to feed on the pea vine, and began to prepare bread
for my children. Several of them being sick when I left
Natchez, were stretched upon the ground, while I was preparing
food, when, behold, three white men, whom I knew, appeared
in sight, having pursued me. They rode towards the
horses, as if to surround and take them by force, when I flew
between them and the horses, and told them they should not
lay hands on them. I acknowledged I owed money in Natchez,
which I honestly intended to pay when I reached my fathers.
You have deprived me of all but the horses, and without them I
cannot reach my fathers. I am out of your jurisdiction. I
am on Indian ground, and if you levy your process on my
property, you do it at your peril. You know the penalty, and
so do I, and I will prosecute you at every hazard. I had
been particular enough to learn by certain signs on the line,
and I knew I was out of their power. They endeavored to
frighten me out of the horses, but finding it vain they returned.”

“I pursued my journey all that night, and next day, until
evening, when coming to a deep hollow, over which there 9(4)v 72
was a bridge, I drove the horses over, and after taking
a slight supper, I lay down on the bridge, with a view of
guarding the horses. The man who was with me, an old
silly sort of a man, had disappeared sometime before I lay
down. I lay awake, suspecting some treachery. The
moon shone quite bright. The old many had doubtless betrayed
me to the same men whom, as I expected, pursued me. When
I missed the man I concluded I was undone, and gave way to
despair; for, though I saw no possibility of the horses crossing
the gully, except by the bridge, I was apprehensive some
place was known to my guide, or to the men. As I lay watching,
with an aching heart, about midnight I perceived the
horses moving slowly towards the bridge, and the same men,
with the traitor, pursuing them silently. When the horses
drew near the bridge, I jumped up and frightened them back,
and the men disappeared. They, doubtless, expected I was
asleep, and never dreamed of my securing the bridge. I never
saw my men afterwards. I continued my journey, now and
then buying a scanty supply of provisions for ourselves and
horses, from the Indians. These were the Choctaws, and were
very friendly. But it was at a season of the year when provisions
were scarce.”

“I travelled but slow, as my children were all sick, except
one.—One of the children was so ill that I had to carry it
in my lap; and though I expected to lose some of them, I strove
to get to the white settlements if possible.”

“The ninth day, as I was riding slow along, I met a gentleman
and his servant. He stopped and spoke very kindly to
me, and inquired very particularly into the cause of my travelling
in the wilderness; and asked me how much money I had?
I informed him I had but two dollars, and at the same time repeating
the cause of my journey. He approved my undertaking,
k and pulling out his purse, gave me forty dollars! He
told me to keep a good heart, and I would surmount my difficulties.
Said he was sorry he was going the opposite way.
He spoke kind to all the children, and went on. It was General
Jackson!”

“The day after I left him, as I stopped at an Indian house, 10(1)r 73
I discovered a gentleman, who appeared to be sick. He had
been resting awhile, and finding I was going the same way,
he had his horse prepared, and went on with me. He was very
feeble, and was followed by a mule, which was heavily laden
with specie. He had been taken sick on the road. We travelled
together, very slow, till the third day, when he informed
me he could go no further. As I had some knowledge of
medicine, and not wishing to travel without his company, I
placed him in an Indian cabin, and having medicine with me,
left by the physicians when my husband died, I administered
it to him—in three days, during which I constantly attended
him, he found himself well enough to venture on; and my children,
too, being better, we proceeded with much greater celerity
than before. We did not make as much progress as we could
have wished, owing to the want of grain for our horses. He
was well armed, but was, nevertheless, timorous—nor was I
less so; and the following will prove that our fears were not
groundless: As we were lying down one night, all asleep but
myself, (I never slept at night,) my eyes being fixed upon the
road, watching both ways, I saw a person walking up the road.
I turned to the tent where the gentleman slept. (I always
stretched a blanket over him at night,) and wakened him; but as
I crawled to him, I saw two more men in the other end of the
road, also, walking towards us. Their coming in this manner,
evidently showed their design, which was to rob the gentleman.
He seized a pistol, and called out to the men to stand—upon
this, all three ran, and he fired after them. They never appeared
after this, although we watched for them the whole of
that night.”

“In the course of our conversations, I mentioned the money
given me by General Jackson; and as we were now drawing
near Kentucky, and were soon to part, he said he must
give me something before we separated. Taking a fancy to
one of my horses, he inquired of me if I would dispose of him—
that if I would he would give me the full value, and I could
send him the horse when I arrived home. I agreed to this,
and he paid me the money, and we parted next morning.”

“I struggled with the sickness and hardships for the sake of
my children, until I arrived in Kentucky, when, having less
cause to exert my fortitude, I sunk upon a sick bed, where I
lay, until writing to my father, he sent for me, and four months
after leaving Natchez, we arrived, all safe, in Greenbrier!”

Letter XXIX.

The remainder of Mrs. Jones’ story is so interesting that
I must finish it. It amounts to the following:—When she arrived
at home, her father gave her, by way of compensation,
one of those fine tracts of land on the Kenhawa river, below the
Washington Lands. Meantime Jones, who was still unmarried,
wandered about the Western frontier, furing, &c.
and by sundry speculations, had collected a considerable sum
of money; and the British, on their invasion of New Orleans,
sending word to the citizens of Louisville, that they would dine
with them the next day! many of the inhabitants became
panic struck, and sold their possessions for a mere trifle.—
Jones became one of the purchasers, and grew, suddenly, rich.
He was offered, I think, and received, one hundred per cent,
for a part of the property, next day, reserving the best for himself.

When Jones heard of Mrs. Robinson’s return, and death
of her husband, he hastened to seek her; and, still retaining
his partiality for her, and she for him, they were married.—
She had been married about two years when I was at her house,
and was in the act of packing up to remove to Louisville, where
a splendid house and every thing that heart could wish was
ready to receive her. I should have been much pleased to have
seen Jones, but he was absent from home. I however saw a
very handsome child, better than a year old, the fruits of their
union. Let any of your novel writers beat this! Mrs. Jones’
children were very stout, and the oldest was nearly a woman.

Many similar acts of kindness, as related above, are told
of General Jackson. He is represented as being particularly
good and kind to his soldiers. One of his men informed me
he would walk through the mud for miles, and let his sick men
ride his horse. He would distribute his biscuit, tea, and
whatever his private stores consisted of, amongst the sick, and
go to the slaughter pen, and he and his suite would broil and
eat the tripe, and other offal, without bread and without salt.
This man, also, stated to me, he was present at the battle of
the Horse Shoe, and a squaw being killed by accident, her
child was found alive, and at the breast of its dead mother.—
The General was pierced to the heart, and taking the child
in his arms, had it immediately fed and clothed, and hired a
person to take it to Huntsville, to be nursed. He has adopted
the child since, and calls it Leneour Jackson, and both himself
and Mrs. Jackson treats it with the utmost tendernes.

Last fall General Jackson came to the Bluff, when every
family was down with a fever, it being exceedingly sickly.
Many of these were unable to give the others a drink of water.
He had heard of the sickness of which his overseer had died,
and of several of his slaves being confined at the same time.—
Mrs. Mitchell, and her husband, (the merchant before mentioned)
were lying, not able to rise, one in one bed, and the
other opposite in another. She related to me, that the General
and his suite would take the water buckets and go to the
river for water; heat it over the fire, and take the sick in their
arms, and placing their feet in the warm water, would thus
support them, until they were sufficiently bathed, and then
bear them back to their bed again. After this the General
would administer medicine with his own hands. Thus he went
the whole night, and never ceased till he had administered the
necessary wants to all, both black and white, and consoling
them with the most soothing language. Mrs. M. said the General
had handled her as tenderly as though she were a babe;
and when he left the place, he ordered a negro woman of his
own to wait on all those who were without servants. You
could scarcely hear his name mentioned without the repetition of
some generous act. Well may the people adore him as they
do.

Letter XXX.

If I were not the best tempered person in the world, I
should get into a pet and quit this correspondence. If it were
not for some way to pass off the time, I would do so. I have
not received a word from you these three weeks. What are
you about? Are you sick, or sullen; or bemiring yourself and
your horse by riding up and down the river through the mud;
or, taking the opportunity of my absence, gone to your old
tricks again? I shall be likely to hear no good of you, I suspect.
When I return, I mean to make very particular inquiries
about you; and there are not wanting those that will tell
me the truth; and a great deal more!

But I will give you only a piece of letter now, and the
residue of it when I get over the fatigue I experienced in a
late party of pleasure, or rather expedition, not against, but
amongst, the Indians. But such a job, or rather such “a voyage
of discovery,” as it was made by our party on the river, under
a commander or leader, who was called a good waterman,
but who was more like a land-lubber, unless the character of
a good waterman consists in roundly wetting and worrying all
his passengers, you never witnessed, perhpas never “read
of.” The particulars of it, however, would not be at all interesting,
because, they would be much like ordinary frights,
screams, and “hair-breadth ’scapes” of most large parties,
composed chiefly of females crammed into one poor little canoe
to navigate a great river. A more ill-looking, frightened,
chagrined, fatigued, be-drabbled, and be-drowned set of miserables,
than our party exhibited after being rocked and tossed
about, not in “the Bay of Biscay, O,” but in the broad
Tennessee for a considerable time without making a progress
of 800 yards, you never beheld in decent people, who started in
high spirits and holy-day dresses. All the curls, crimps, and
flourishing of gay gowns, new shoes, silk stockings, pantaloons
and petticoats, shawls and other flaunting finery humbled—not
“to the dust,” but—to the water! But I will now only give
you the “subject of my story,” and the object of this “grand
expedition,” and proceed to the result of it in my next.

Letter XXXI.

You want every-day things, common-life, living-manners,
evening-chat, and have I not done so? Not every thing to be
sure, for I see and hear many things, that, oh heavens! I would
not—what was I going to say?—why, that I hear and see such
things, that would not look very seemingly on paper. But if I
live to see you, I shall let you into the knowledge of some
things you would not dream of.

But as you are fond of stories, here follows one, which I
am pretty certain you never saw. It is the first time I saw it,
and is said to be written by Dr. Franklin himself: “The Doctor 11(1)r 81
left Boston when a boy, and came to Philadelphia, where
he lived till his death. Upon the death of his father, he went
to Boston to comfort and console his mother. He had not
seen her since he left Boston, many years, and was sure she
would not know him. When he drew near her dwelling, as he
was fond of philosophical experiments, it came into his head to
pass himself for a stranger, and by this, ascertain whether
there was such a thing as natural affection. On a cold, chilly
day, in the month of January, in the afternoon, the Doctor
knocked at the door, and asked to see Mrs. Franklin. He
found the old lady knitting, before the parlour fire, and introduced
himself, by observing, that he had been informed she entertained
travellers, and requested a night’s lodging. She eyed
him with that cold look of disapprobation, which most people
assume, when they imagine themselves insulted. She assured
him, that he had been misinformed, that she did not keep
tavern, but that it was true, to oblige some members of the
Legislature, she took a number of them into her family during
the session: that she then had four members of the Council,
and six of the House of Representatives boarding with her;
and that all her beds were full; and then betook herself to her
knitting, with that intense application, which expressed as much
and as forceably as actions could do—if you have done your
business, the sooner you leave the better. But on the Doctor’s
wrapping his coat about him and observing that it was very
chilly weather, she pointed to a chair and gave him permission
to warm himself. The entrance of the boarders precluded all
further conversation. Coffee was soon served, and the Doctor
partook with the rest of the family. To the coffee succeeded
pipes and a paper of McIntire’s best, when the whole family
formed a cheerful smoking semi-circle round the fire.”

“Perhaps no man ever possessed colloquial powers in a
more facinating degree than Doctor Franklin, and never was
there an occasion when he displayed those powers to a greater
advantage than at this time. He drew the attention of the
company by the solidity of his judgment, and the modesty of
his deportment; instructed them by the new and varied lights
in which he placed his subject, and delighted them with apt 11 11(1)v 82
and amusing anecdotes. Thus employed, the hours passed
merrily along, until eight o’clock, when punctual to a moment,
Mrs. Franklin announced supper. Busied with her household
affairs, she fancied the intruding stranger had quitted the house
immediately after coffee, and it was with difficulty she restrained
resentment when she saw him without invitation seat himself
at the table with the freedom of a member of the family.
Immediately after supper, she called an elderly gentleman, a
member of the Council in whom she was accustomed to confide,
to another room, complained bitterly of the rudeness of
the stranger, told the manner of his introduction to the house,
observed that he appeared like an outlandish man, and she
thought he had something very suspicious in his appearance;
concluding by soliciting her friend’s advice with respect to the
way in which she could most easily rid herself of his presence.
The old gentleman assured her that the stranger was a man of
education, and to all appearances a gentleman; that being in
agreeable company, he had paid no attention to the lateness of
the hour, and advised her to call him aside, and repeat to him
her inability to lodge him. She accordingly sent her maid to
him, and then, with as much temper as she could command,
recapitulated the situation of her family, observed that it grew
late, and mildly intimated, that he would do well to seek himself
a lodging. The Doctor said that with her leave he would
smoke one more pipe with her boarders, and then retire. He
returned to the company, filled his pipe, and with the first
whiff his powers of conversation returned with redoubled force.
He recounted the hardships, he extolled the piety and policy
of our ancestors. A gentleman present mentioned the subject
of the day’s debate in the House of Representatives—a bill had
been introduced to extend the prerogatives of the crown. The
Doctor immediately entered upon the subject, separated the
Colonial rights with new and forcible arguments, was familiar
with the names of the influential members of the house, when
Dudly was Governor, recited their speeches, and applauded
the noble defence of the Chamber rights.”

“During a discourse so appropriately interesting to the
company, no wonder the clock struck eleven unperceived by 11(2)r 83
the delighted circle. Nor was it wonderful, that Mrs. Franklin,
by this time, grew exhausted: she now entered the room,
and, before the whole company, with much warmth, addressed
the Doctor, told him plainly she thought herself imposed on,
observed it was true she was a lone woman, but that she had
friends, who would protect her, and concluded by insisting on
his leaving the house. The Doctor made a slight apology and
very deliberately put on his great coat and hat, took a polite
leave of the company, and approached the street door, lighted
by the maid and attended by the mistress. While the Doctor
and his companions had enjoyed themselves within,
a most tremendous snow had fallen without, which had
filled the streets knee-deep; and when the maid lifted
the latch, a roaring northwester forced open the door,
extinguished the light, and almost filled the entry with drifted
snow and hail. As soon as the candle was relighted, the Doctor
cast a woful look towards the door, and thus addressed his
mother: ‘My dear Madam, can you turn me out of doors in
this dreadful storm? I am a stranger in this town, and shall
certainly perish in the street. You look like a charitable old
lady: I don’t think you could turn a dog from your door on this
tempestuous night.’ Don’t tell me about charity, said the offended
matron; charity begins at home. It was your own
fault, that you staid so long: to be plain with you, sir, I don’t
like your conduct; and I fear you have some bad design in thus
intruding yourself on my family. The warmth of the parley
had drawn the company from the parlour, and by their united
interferance the stranger was permitted to lodge in the house,
and as no bed could be had, he consented to repose on an easy
chair before the parlour fire. Although the boarders entertained
no doubt of the stranger’s honesty, it was not so with
Mrs. Franklin. With suspicious caution she collected all her
silver spoons, pepper-box, and porringer, from the closet, and
after securing the parlour-door by sticking a fork over the
latch, carried the plate to her chamber, charged the negro-man
to sleep with his clothes on, to take the clever to bed with him,
and wake and seize the vagrant at the first noise he made in
attempting to rob the house.”

“Having thus taken every precaution, she retired to bed
with her maid, whom she compelled to sleep in her room.—
Mrs. Franklin rose before the sun, roused her domestics, unfastened
the parlour door, with timid caution, and was greatly
surprised to find her guest quietly sleeping in the chair. A
sudden transition from mistrust to perfect confidence was natural.
She awakened him with a cheerful good morning, inquiring
how he had rested, and invited him to partake of her
breakfast, which was always served before that of the boarders.
‘And pray, sir,’ said the old lady, as she sipped her
chocolate, ‘as you say you are a stranger here, to what distant
country do you belong?’ ‘I, Madam, belong to the city
of Philadelphia.’ The Doctor declared he, for the first time,
perceived any emotion in her. ‘Philadelphia!’ said she,
and all the mother suffused her eyes. ‘If you live in Philadelphia,
perhaps you know our Ben.’ ‘Who, Madam!’—
‘Why, Ben Franklin, my Ben; Oh, he is the best child that
ever blest a mother!’ ‘What—is Ben Franklin, the printer,
your son? Why he is my most intimate friend.’ ‘Oh! God
forgive me; and have I suffered a friend of my Benny to sleep
on that hard chair, and I in a good bed?’”

How the Doctor made himself known to his mother, he
has not informed us. But he always said, after that, that there
was no such thing as “natural affection.” How much like
her are all old women! I never found one drop of the milk of
human kindness in one of them.

Letter XXXII.

The anecdote of Doctor Franklin, in my last, reminds
me of a similar one of my mother.

When I was a child, my parents removed from Maryland
to the frontier of Pennsylvania, and settled in the woods at the 11(3)r 85
mouth of Loyalhanah, now in Westmoreland County. I can
just remember passing through Tanny Town, and seeing a sign
over a tavern door, which represented a boy sitting on a keg
with a bunch of grapes in his hand. I thought they were
actually grapes, and asked for some to eat. This, and seeing
the trees covered with snow, as we rode along, and Isaac
Fanosedelle, who travelled with us, is all I recollect of the
journey. But, to the anecdote.

A vast number of sugar trees grew in that region, and
my mother employed herself in the spring of the year in
making sugar. I was about four or five years old, when my
father being on a journey, and my mother, as usual, employed
at the sugar camp, had left my sister (younger than I) and
myself in the house by ourselves. The spring was far advanced,
and as my sister and myself were amusing ourselves
catching butterflies before the cabin door, on a warm sunshine
evening, we were on a sudden surprised by a gentleman on
horseback, who rode up to us, and inquired “if he could stay
all night.” We stood still, staring at the gentleman, not
knowing what answer to make, till he inquired where our
parents were, and what were thereir names. I was always the
first to speak, and said, “my mama is at the sugar camp, and
her name is Mary; and my papa’s name is William.” “I
shall stop,” said he, and alighted from his horse, and taking
off the saddle, laid it down by the door, and asked me “if we
had a stable to put horses in?” I told him I did not know what
that was—but we put old Bonny in the pen there, pointing it
out to him. “Have you any corn?” said the gentleman. “Yes,
sir, we have corn in the crib.” “You are a finne girl; come
and show me the crib,” said he, smiling: and after turning
his horse in the pen, I ran to show him the crib, communicating
every incident within my memory to him, without reserve,
at which he laughed heartily, and chatted with me in turn.—
But a violent dispute succeeded to this. I told him he took
too much corn for his horse; he must not take more than
twelve ears, that was all we gave to Bonny. He gave the best
of reasons why his horse should have more than Bonny; but 11(3)v 86
he argued to the wind. Our parents had laid down certain
rules for us to go by, and these were as firm and steadfast as
the laws of the Medes and Persians. I did not grudge him the
corn, but thought he was a novice in the art of feeding a horse;
and, finally, he was forced to let me have my own way.

Our cabin, or camp rather, was very small—not more
than 8 or 10 feet. This contained one bed, four wooden stools,
with legs stuck in them through augur holes, half a dozen tin
cups, and the like number of pewter plates, knives, forks, and
spoons, though my sister (very mischievous) had lost one of
the knives, (for which I was chastised,) broke one of the spoons,
and seriously damaged one of the plates. Besides these we
had a tray and frying pan, a camp-kettle, and a pot; and our
cabin was considered the best furnished on the frontier.Open note a21-rota A pewter dish or spoons, in those days, were considered articles of opulence—
two-thirds of the people of the frontiers eat with muscle shells, and I have, had a great
veneration for muscle shells ever since, for my sister soon broke and lost, together, our
half dozen spoons. Besides
this, we had a table made of puncheon, (a tree split in
half,) and like the other furniture, was graced with four substantial
legs of rough hewed white oak. I think we had a
towel, but as for table-cloth, I had never seen one to my knowledge;
and neither trunk nor box incommoded us. There was
a few skins upon which those reposed who thought proper to
share them. Sometimes we had bread, and always a plenty of
meal.

The gentleman upon entering the hut, asked “if we had
any thing to eat? I am very hungry; I have eat nothing since
morning.” “We have plenty of jerk (dried venison) in the
chimney,” I replied. He soon had a piece in his hand; and
hearing a hen at the door, he asked if we had any eggs? My
sister upon the inquiry ran out to a nest, hard by, and brought
four eggs in, and gave them to him. He made a hole in the
ashes, and covered up the eggs, and having salt and biscuit
with him, he made a hearty meal. He gave us a cake each.

It was now near night, and after taking a walk to look at
his horse, the gentleman being weary, said he would lie down.
He had travelled that day from Pittsburg. I offered him the
only bed in the house, saying we could sleep on the floor; we 11(4)r 87
had done so many a time. He declined the offer, and throwing
a bear skin, said, “that would do very well. I am used to
camping out; this will be delightful,” and threw himself on the
floor. I ran and brought two or three more, and seeing I was
hardly able to drag them along, he laughed, and took them
from me. He put his saddle under his head, and I took a
spare quilt and threw it over him. In a very few minutes he
was fast asleep, and still my mother came not, though it was
quite dark; I put my sister to bed, as she grew sleepy, and sat
up alone.

My mother having a fine day for her business, did not arrive
till, perhaps, an hour after dark, and one of the next neighbors,
a female (the only one we had except the Peery’s came
with her, as she frequently did, when my mother was alone:
and, in turn, my mother would take us children, when their
husbands were absent, and spend the night with her. I had
heard their approach, and opening the door, ran to meet them
with the news I had to impart. I expected to receive the applause
of the two; but what was to my astonishment to find they
were not only displeased, but alarmed. It was just at the commencement
of hostilities with the Indians, and several white
men were recently detected as spies. “He is a spy, I’ll wager,”
said aunt Molly, (as we called her.) “I’ll be bound!” said
my mother, “or some robber come to murder us. You ought
not to have let him in the house,” said she sharply; “never
do the like again.” Finding I had done wrong in my mother’s
estimation, I sneaked into the house, and set myself down,
leaving the matrons holding a counsel in the yard. At length
they entered, on tiptoe, and lighting a lamp, took a peep at
the stranger, who was snoring aloud. They drew near the
fire, after this, and aunt Molly Carrahan said, “I don’t like
his looks.” “Nor I neither,” said my mother. “He looks
for all the world,” said the former, “like Paddy Dunahan,
that was hung in Limerick, for killing of Dennis O’Shaan.”
My mother said she had a great mind to take her children,
and go to Mr. Blane’s to-night. “Not a foot will ye stir,”
said aunt Molly. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Mary. I’ll just
put on the camp-kettle and have it boiling in a giffey, and 11(4)v 88
if he offers to stir, I’ll scald his eyes out the first thing. He’s
just one of the them English, I’ll warrant, come to spy out the
land; but if he offers for to go to molest us, I’ll put him past
spying.”

The camp-kettle was put on, and a brisk fire made under
it; and for my part, in no apprehension from the stranger, I
laid myself down, and soon fell asleep. The first thing I saw
in the morning, was the gentleman pulling on his boots, and
my mother, (who doubtless sat up the whole night,) with a
smile, bid him good morning; and aunt Molly, and Irish woman,
“hoped he had had pleasant dreams.” The gentleman apologized,
said he had been very fortunate in lighting upon a
house; that he had travelled the preceding day through the
wilderness without meeting with one, and praised me no little
for a fine girl; and told the story to my mother about the horse
feed. The two ladies were highly delighted, and breakfast
was prepared for him before he set out; his horse fed; and, at
his departure he gave me a silver dollar, the first I ever saw.
And whom do you think was the gentleman? No less than the
amiable Mr. Findley, long a member of Congress from Pennsylvania,
distinguished for his republican principles, and one
of the ablest men in the state. He used to be called “the
walking library,” from his knowledge of books; and one of the
finest looking men in the world.

Letter XXXIII.

Spring has commenced—the trees on the river are green
and the people are begining to plough. They plant cotton
here the first week in March, and, I think, corn too—the plowing
commences the first week in February.

You ask if I have books? Yes; I have read Salmagundi, 12(1)r 89
Philips’ Speeches, and Lady Morgan’s France; all new to me.
I never saw them before. They are very interesting. Standing
in a store one day, I saw a book lying amongst some rubbish, and
requesting the clerk to hand it to me, after brushing the dust
from it, I found it to be Salmagundi, a humorous and well
written work, by Paulding and Irving, of New York, so it is
said. “Oh,” said the boy, “that is not a good book. If you
want a book to read, here is a good book,” and handed Russell’s
Severi Sermons. He put me in mind of old Mrs. W—,
whom you must have known. She came to our house one
Sunday; (she hardly missed a Sunday:) I was reading Buffon,
and laying the book on a chair to attend to something about
the house, the woman picked it up, and turning the leaves
over, exclaimed, “La, do you read such books to-day?”
“Why! what is the matter with it?” “Why it an’t a good
book. I would not read such a book on the Sabbath.” Now,
this woman would pick whortleberries, and even wash her
clothes on Sunday. The young man was, doubtless, of the
same stamp.

Have you seen Lady Morgan’s France? You will be
pleased with it. For a woman she is a fine writer. This
work will long remain a standing evidence of that towering
genius which knows no sex. Her delineation of men and
manners are well drawn. Her style is classical, nervous,
glowing, and pure, and discovers a perfect knowledge of mankind.
She is the best portrayer I have met with, except Voltaire.
She descends to the bottom, and searches the lowest
depths of society. She re-ascends amongst the nobility and
gentry, and unlocks the cabinets of kings and ministers. She
examines for herself. She bursts the chains of prejudice, and
comes forth arrayed in honors all her own. This female, an
honor to her sex, and the brightest ornament of literature, was
once, it seems, an actress, and on the stage.

I have seen several new novels, which, with the exception
of Walter Scott’s, I do not read. Insipid, frothy, nauseous
stuff, I cannot endure them,—they are so stuffed with unmeaning
words. Now what do you say to “playfulness, fastidious,
witchery;” how silly in sound and signification; it 12 12(1)v 90
makes one sick, and serves no purpose but to entangle the
subject and obscure the sense. And, by the way, these silly
novel writers must show their learning. Profound philosophers!
deeply read in history! abundance of things irrelevant
to the subject. Simpletons, we suppose every one know these
things. But, as some one has said, “let blockheads read
what blockheads write.” But I find these novels corrupt the
morals of our females, and engender hardness of heart to real
distress. Those most pleased with fictitious distress, have
hearts as hard as iron. If they are pleased with one who relieves
fictitious distress, the reality ought to please much more,
and every one may be a real hero, or heroine, with less trouble
than writing or reading a romance. Let them just step into
the streets, the highways, or the hovel of the widow or orphan,
heaven knows they may find enough there; they need not look
in books for distress. I have seen pictures of real distress,
which greatly exceeded the pen of any novel writers; and yet
none heeds it. Relieving these would be Godlike, and would
impart a heaven upon earth. But you like short letters.

Letter XXXIV.

I am never better pleased, than when seated alone by a
bright fire, a clean swept hearth, a lighted candle, and a pair
of snuffers. I have a snuffer-tray too, but one who was raised
in the woods, you know, can easily dispense with a snuffer-
tray; but I confess, I abominate the practice of snuffing the
candle with your fingers. I was going on, however, to say,
that nothing gives me more pleasure than to seize my pen at
night, sitting comfortably, as I just observed, and talking to
you on paper; and here follows another catalogue of every day
incidents, appalling ones indeed, but you will have them.

It is one hand asserted, that human nature is the same 12(2)r 91
in all ages, and in all countries, on our globe. This is denied
by others, who say “as the twig is bent, the tree’s inclined.”
That there is a difference in mankind, is certain, and I am
forced to believe this difference is the effect of education.—
Mankind, say some, are all alike. Alike, in what? This
vague conclusion is a violation of justice and truth. If it be
meant that mankind are alike in shape—true; but that they
are alike in actions, I deny! Else how comes it, that one man
will cooly, wantonly, and deliberately spill the blood of his fellow
man; whilst another affectionately relieves his sufferings?
Whether the cause of this difference lies in nature, or education,
I am unable, or rather unwilling, to say. But I am inclined
to think it the effect of education. We have a conclusive
evidence in the two puppies of Lycurgus. One of these
was purposely trained to the chase, and the other left to pursue
the dictates of nature. Lycurgus, you will recollect, to convince
the Spartans of the power and influence of education on
children, brought the two dogs, both of the same litter, into the
school room, and setting a dish of victuals in the centre of the
room, also a live hare, let loose the two dogs; and what was
the consequence? the dog trained to the chase took after the
hare, and the other ran to the dish of victuals.

It is, however, well known, that the brute, in a state of
nature, is superior to the human race; for instance, dog will
not eat dog; cat will not eat cat; nor will any of the brute creation
feed on its own species. But man will eat man! This
fact cannot be denied; and though we have line upon line, and
precept upon precept; and teachers from A, B, C, to the mathematics
for these 1818 years, yet we have cannibals still.—
This proves that something is wrong in our system of education;
or while it evidently improves our nature in onne place,
why does it not improve the whole—and while it has been able
to cure one vice, why has it not cured all? It is clear, education
improves mankind, and makes them happier, why then
does it progress so slow? The system must be wrong. But
what I was going to remark, we have great encouragement
to press forward in the arts of improvement, and since we have
been able to overcome the shocking practice of feeding upon 12(2)v 92
the flesh of our fellow man, we may in time, perchance 1818
years hence, be able to arrive to such a height of refinement,
as to cease from the practice of killing him; which I think is
a much worse crime than eating him after he is dead. It does
the dead no harm to eat him; and yet what an outcry against
cannibals. It is not the eating a man after he is dead, that constitutes
crime; it is the taking away of his life. A lady told
be once she would kill an hundred men before she would eat
one. She was a christian and not a cannibal. I hope, however,
to see the day that we may cease to kill men, since we have
ceased to eat them. In the one case we have so far overcome
nature, and I hope we will not stop till murder is rooted out
from amongst mankind.

I was led to these reflections, by various incidents of
recent occurrence, in this region; but no matter, wherever I
go, wherever I turn, I see ignorance the most besetting crime,
of the blackest die, and vice the most glaring. Amusing
myself this evening with a spy-glass, viewing the gambols of
a large flock of swans, whilst I had the glass up to my eye, I
saw a boat gliding swiftly down the river. It drew near to
the shore, on the opposite side, and a solitary man leaped out,
and fastening the boat, hastily disappeared in the woods. I
sat musing upon the strange appearance of seeing but one man
in the boat, when I was called to supper, where I found several
strangers, who had just arrived. In the course of the conversation
I mentioned the circumstance; when one of the
strangers, who was from East Tennessee, inquired the dress,
and height of the man, and observed, “that is the man we are
in pursuit of.” He then added, “that this man had committed
two murders in East Tennessee, one in the summer, and one
in the fall; and that he was so desperate, people were afraid to
risk their lives in apprehending him; and he went at large.”
He has a sister over the river, three miles from here, where I
suspect he has gone to night. His sister lives at Fort Hampton,
and is a very fine looking woman. I breakfasted at her
house on my way from Huntsville. The gentleman endeavored
to collect men to go and take him that night: but no one was
wililing to join in the enterprize, and we heard no more of him. 12(3)r 93
But the following circumstance would seem to confound the
the idea advanced in the commencement of this letter, and
seems to decide in favor of man, in a state of nature; so you
may see, that by giving both sides of the question, I am free
from prejudice at least. About a year since, a widow lady,
who lived in East Tennessee, having received several invitations
to go to reside with a brother who lived in the lower part
of this territory, accordingly, disposing of her property, excepting
two beds, a negro girl, a favorite white cow, and three
horses upon which she and a daughter, (who was a woman
grown,) her beds, &c. were to be conveyed. She took passage
by water, in East Tennessee, with other persons, (who were
removing,) to this place, intending to pursue the residue of
her journey by land. She remained here at the Bluffs, a few
days, endeavoring to procure a man to accompany her, both as
guide and protector, her way lying through the Choctaw
Indian nation. A man, with whom she had been formerly acquainted,
and who had followed the business of navigating the
Tennessee, (or boating down the river, as it is called,) happened
to come to the Bluff; she hired this man, and set forward on
her journey. The first day after leaving the Bluff, they overtook
two Indians who were travelling the same way. They all
proceeded together, until the next night. Some hours, however,
before night, the young lady complained of being sick,
and wanted water. The Indians informed her, that there was
a fine spring, a few miles before them, at which they would
arrive about camp time. The young woman being very thirsty,
asked if there was no water nearer. They replied that
there was a little creek about half way. They travelled on to
this creek, when the white man said he would stop for the
night. The Indians tried to dissuade him from his purpose,
but in vain—he would stay there—the Indians would go on to
the spring.

In the night the negro girl was awakened by the screams
of her young mistress, and beheld her old mistress weltering
in blood, and in the last struggles of death; and the wretch,
their guide, in the act of raising an axe to split out the brains
of the young lady, which he instantly did, although she begged 12(3)v 94
her life of him on her knees! He then ran to the negro girl,
and commanded her to hush instantly, or he would split out her
brains also; but that, if she would be a good girl, and report
(if any inquiries were ever made for the women) that they were
killed by the Indians, she would not be hurt. He then took
the two dead bodies, one at a time, and dragged them by the
heels, as the girl states, and threw them on an island in the
aforesaid creek. The next morning he set out with all the
property, changing his course a little from that which the Indians
had taken. To the first white inhabitant, whose house
he reached, he sold the murdered woman’s beds, her wearing
apparel, and the cow. When questioned about the blood on
the beds, he said his wife was travelling with him; that she
took sick and died; that she had been bled, and in that way accounted
for the blood on the bed. He then proceeded towards
the Spanish dominions, taking the negro girl and horses with
him. In the course of two months, the same two Indians returned,
and happened to call at the same house where the white
man sold the clothing and white cow. Seeing the cow in the
yard, they knew her instantly, and asked what was become of
the two women who owned that cow. The man replied, that
he had bought the cow of a travelling man, not a woman. To
repeated inquiries made by the Indians they discovered it must
be the same man. The horses, the negro girl, &c. corroborated
so exactly, that the Indians immediately suspected the man
of murdering the women. They stated every circumstance of
the young lady’s wanting water, the creek, and the spring;
and proposed that this man should go with them and they
would, probably, find the dead bodies. Accordingly, the man
went with the Indians, and found their camp by the spring,
as they had stated, and the other by the creek, exactly as the
Indians had reported; and upon searching the spot sometime,
they found the dead bodies in the creek, and round the waist of
the young woman, they found specie and bank notes to a large
amount!!!

The man who purchased the property, said he would have
the murderer at the hazard of his life and fortune.—He pursued
him, and in the lower country found him, and, securing 12(4)r 95
him in jail, returned home. The murderer broke jail and returned
to East Tennessee. The man who first took him, hearing
this, proceed to Tennessee, retook him, and placed him in
jail, which he again broke, and has not been heard of since.
The gentleman who had so often interfered, in endeavoring to
bring this murderer to punishment, was heard to say “he would
pursue the murderer to the end of the world, but he would find
him.”Open note a22-rota This renegade was apprehended three years afterwards, and lodges in Huntsville
jail, where I saw him, and shortly afterwards he broke jail and made his escape with
fifteen others, and was not heard of at the time of writing this note. The murderer,
from the first, laid the murder on the two Indians. They being informed of this, assisted
in taking him the last time, and came on with the guard to Huntsville. They were
much enraged with him, and made him run before them, he on foot, and they on horseback.
They made him wade all the creeks, and now and then gave him a cut with
their whips, saying, “You kill white women, and tell lie on Indian.”

Letter XXXV.

I laid over the other part of my subject (ignorance) for
another letter. You may remember the little Natchez widow,
our guest; also the proud, haughty, next neighbor. Since
that, another widow has arrived, different from both these.
She is learned, sensible, and gay, though rather satirical. The
little widow is very captious, and pronounces “dis, dat, and
torra,” the comon dialect I am told of the country she came
from. She does not want sense, however, but is little skilled
in the affairs of the world. Old Mrs. Starchy and her can
never agree, and the other widow amuses herself at their expense,
and often has them almost by the ears. But I am rambling
again. Several gentlemen, on a visit to this country to
purchase land, spent a few days at the Bluff. They were gentlemen
of intelligence, learning, and politeness. While here,
they had frequent opportunities of conversing with the ladies,
of which they availed themselves with that taste, and good
sense which ever distinguish well bred people. But, alas! then 12(4)v 96
it was I discovered the disadvantage a female labors under,
when destitute of education; and this is still more apparent
when contrasted by one of their own sex. It is well for them
their ignorance effectually screens them from all knowledge of
the ridiculous figure they make. If they were sensible of the
pain they inflict upon those who are so unfortunate as to hear
them blundering from one thing to another; miscalling some
words, and misapplying others; and the no small pains they
take to expose their ignorance, shame and mortification would
drive them mad.

One evening, when all our females were present, (I have
always heard widows were jealous of each other, but this time
I had occular proof of the fact,) our newly arrived widow put
her rivals to shame, and gained a complete victory. This she
was enabled to do, without violating those rules of politeness,
which dispose the well bred modesty to concede their talents,
rather than wound the feelings of the company. The conversation,
at first, general, soon turned upon the victory of New
Orleans, and its consequences to the British government; the
accumulation of their national debt; and the expenditures of
their navy in times of peace. This last was stated by a friend
of the lady; in doing which, he inadvertently committed himself.
The lady had paid deep attention to the subject, and
seemed to participate in it like one thoroughly acquainted with
the subject; and the moment the gentleman mistated the amount
of the expenditures, she smiled, and set him right. He bowed
to her, as much as to say, go on, I yield to you. She took up the
subject where he left off, and went into a complete investigation
of the British policy; the measures of their ministers; and their
effects upon the people at large. She introduced many original
remarks of her own, upon their system of finance, with the
probable effects that may result, or grow out of the contemplated
change. Imagine the surprise of the company, who regarded
her with deep attention. The ladies turned their eyes upon
her in astonishment, and stared at her for some time; but, at
length, they began to whisper, and carry on a conversation
amongst themselves, with no friendly aspect. I heard one of
them say, “Some folks ar very fond o’ talkin wiht men—I 13(1)r 97
never liked men.” “Nor I neither,” said another lady, in a
negro dialect; “it’s a bad sign to see some folks so fond o’
men.” “I never, for my part,” said old Starchy, “liked men
so well.” When I hear a woman say she does not like men,
I have the same opinion of her that I have of a man who praises
his honesty; or a parson who boasts of his religion. There is
a striking analogy between these three descriptions of people,
and one conclusion may apply to the whole of them.

On the next morning our guests departed, and a friend of
ours took occasion to call on the lady who expressed such a
dislike to men. He carelessly observed, that he felt quite lonesome
upon the departure of the strangers. She bridled up,
and said, “Where is Mrs.――; she is very good company I
’spose?” “Yes,” said the gentleman, “she is very agreeable;
she has very few equals.” “I ’spose she’s a great scholar;
and I dare say she’s very rich. For my part, I don’t know
what she is, nur I don’t care, that’s more. She’s a mighty
game-making sort of woman, for one thing, I know. If I was
Mrs――, I would tell her a piece of my mind, I know—that I
would. She’s a mighty comicle sort of a somebody anyhow,
oh!” She ended, and shook her head.

A lady asked me one day “What state Virginia was in?”
Another asked “If Canada was not in Kentucky?” and, another
“Supposed Joe Graphy was very hard to learn.”

Hence arises all our mistakes in religion, morals, and politics.
When our reason is cultivated and our minds enlightened
by education, we are enabled to strip off that disguise
which knavery, bigotry, and superstition wears. It rectifies
our judgements, holds the reins of our passions, in short, enables
us to discover whatever tends to promote our present
and eternal welfare. I was reading a newspaper to-day in
which was something respecting Ireland; a genteel, well dressed
looking man was standing by, and asked me if Ireland was
not in South America! He lives in this place; he is worth not
less than twenty thousand dollars; is a candidate for the office
of sheriff, in this county, which is the next wealthiest in the
state; he has eight or nine competitors, and the misfortune is,
that the electors, or a majority of them, and his rivals, are 13 13(1)v 98
equally ignorant! Now, what sort of an administration of public
affairs are we to expect when it is wielded by such men as
these? This is to be the downfall of our country some day!—
All republics have fallen from the same cause. We learn, when
the republic of Rome was overturned, it was done by the ignorant
vulgar. We find that all the men of learning and polite
manners, rallied on the side of liberty, while Cæsar was worshipped
by the common people—as a friend of mine once said,
“all the common people want rope enough.” This ignorance
is not confined to any one part of the Union; it is universal. I
happened to be in court once in a respectable county in Virginia.
The court was just commencing, the judge ordered
the sheriff to “command silence until he gave the charge to
the Grand Jury.” The sheriff replied, that “he would thank
him (the judge) to do it himself, as he was a new hand at the
business.” This was the high sheriff of the county. Why, a
person who is reputed to know any thing of geography, philosophy,
or astronomy, is looked upon with as much abhorrence
by the great mass of the people, as if he were in league with
the devil. They are jealous of the rich and great. Why then,
do they grovel in the dark? Why don’t they seek to have their
minds enlightened, which is their only security against the
oppression and encroachments of the wealthy? In a country
like this, where the freedom of elections bestows public honors
and public offices on every man alike, how can he discharge
the duties of his office with honor to himself, or benefit to his
country, who is ignorant of the principles of the very foundation
of his government? or how can he tell when the government
is administered correctly by others, when he is destitute
of the knowledge by which he is to ascertain the fact? Ever
since I can remember, this has been the case: the great mass
of the people are just the same; not one step do they advance
in knowledge. Is there not something wrong in our system
of education? If there be, where does the defect lie? I have
seen many evils, much sorrow, much oppression, much wickedness
of all descriptions and degrees, indeed I see nothing else.
I have taken much pains to trace these evils to their source,
and find its origin in ignorance. I have pursued them through 13(2)r 99
all those labyrinths, and they all stop here. But to apply a remedy,
or to dictate one, would exceed, pperhaps, the powers of
any one man or woman. If I were to speak from experience
upon this desultory view of the subject, I would say, in the
first place, that man is a reasonable being, reason is improved
by observation and study, and, as we see, hear, and understand
from the cradle to the grave, we are learning from the
first dawn of understanding. Man’s education, therefore, begins
with his life, and ends at his death. But first impressions
are the most permanent, because they find the mind empty and
prepared to take in a greater share than it is ever able to do
thereafter; and because the mind is soft and blank, as a sheet
of white paper receives the type, so it receives the impression
of images which are never effaced, and although he still is improving
by observation, yet the original impressions are the
strongest and accompanies us to the end of our lives. How
necessary is it then to impress the young mind with justice and
humanity. How necessary to enforce them, both by precept
and example, since these impressions are to influence them all
their lives afterwards. But when parents are ignorant themselves,
deplorable indeed must be the state of their offspring.
Destitute of learning himself, a man sees not the necessity of
cultivating the reason of his child, who, thrown on the world
like a vessel on the ocean, without sail or rudder, no wonder
he is shipwrecked on the rocks of superstition and credulity.—
But here lies the misfortune, and here I fear it is long to rest:
most parents not only being ignorant but are highly prejudiced
against learning. I shall dismiss the subject by a remark on
myself, upon the strength and force of early impressions.

When I was yet a very small child, being a terrible great
scholar, and a cruel good reader, my mother, proud of her first
born, procured scores of little histories for me to read—such as
the Seven Wise Masters, Moll Flanders, Paddy from
Cork, &c. and many a weary hour did I pour over these little
histories. I knew they were stories, that is, falsehoods; and what
was the consequence—when I came to read real history, I had
no more idea that it was reality than I had that Aladdin and his
Lamp, were true. The very name, history, of all others, bore 13(2)v 100
the impression of falsehood, and it was long before I could believe
that history was a narrative of facts; and had I not fortunately
fell in with a person of learning, I should always have
delved at little histories.

Every country have their little histories. Since I have
been here, numbers have asked me to loan them a little history:
all have the little. From not mixing with the common people,
not one in a thousand is aware of this state of society. One
would think that it would be the first and only object with men
of letters, to set on foot some method to enlighten the great
mass of the people, as they must, inevitably, and that before
long, have the management of matters in their own hands!—
And many a one, at this moment, are in office, by the instrumentality
of a vote purchased for half a pint of whiskey! But
says one, “there always have been degrees of knowledge,
and always will be distinctions in society;—nor was it intended
all men should be upon an equality.” That there has always
existed degrees in knowledge, I admit, but that ignorance
is a necessary consequence, is most false. There is another
Jay’s treaty for you.

Letter XXXVI.

Now we have it from real life. If this does not cure you
of the blues, nothing that I can give you will. You have heard
of electioneering, and have seen it too. But your elections
bear no comparison to those here.

This country exhibits man in all his varieties, and in all
his gradations, from the country boor, to the most polished
gentleman—There is something truly amusing in contemplating
the progress of society. To see man slowly emerging
from a state of nature, to take his stand in civilized life—to
behold him in defiance of rules and maxims thrusting himself 13(3)r 101
forward, his means small, and at most, precarious—his understanding
limited—his heart ingenuous, exposing him to the
subtleties of his designing neighbor—to consider man in this
point of view, is a luxury to a thinking mind.

This morning, while we were sitting at breakfast, a
stranger stepped in, who proved to be one of the neighbors.
He was rather coarsely dressed, but had a pleasing aspect.
“Well, old fellow,” said the Colonel, “how goes it;” shaking
hands cordially. “How do you do? Come, Sir, sit down,
and take some breakfast with us—[Maria bring a plate, and
knife and fork]—Come, Sir, take a dram first—[Hand a glass
Maria.”] The stranger took a dram, and then seated himself
at the table; and the Colonel and him carried on a kind of
dialogue, for some time. “How is your family, Sir?” “Why
I’m ’bliged to you, Colonel, the’r all about, but Mary: She’s
got her ager yet. How’s it wi’ yourself?” “We are all well
thank you, Sir. Let me help you to another piece of steak.
Have some of the gravy, Sir. Well, lets hear the news: who
do the people talk of voting for—[take some butter, Sir]—in
your part? What do they talk about?” “Why, some on’em
is mighty feard, see, of losin their land; and some on’em agin
is ’mind to stand ’em a pull. I tell you what, Colonel”—[Sam
put more wood on the fire]—“its hard upon a poor man, after
all, after clearin on himself a smart patch o’ ground, and puttin
it under a good fence.”—[Pour out some more coffee, Maria]
—“see, and buildin on him a snug cabin, and then for a
rich man like you, Colonel, because he rebounds in most money,
to come to buy it from over his head, see t’ll ’e what, it’s little
sort o’ hard. But I reviewed it so from the first. I saw how
it was a goin and sold out. If they fool me they have but one
more to fool.” “Well, but tell me, old fellow, who do the people
talk of voting for on Flint?” “Why, to tell the truth,
Colonel, they’r purty much divided. Some on ’em talks a runnin
Doctor Crab—[Maria set that decanter on the table]—
and some on ’em agin talk o’ votin for Lawyer L.” [Take
some whiskey, Sir.]—“But tell me, who do you intend to vote
for?” “Well, I was jist goin to say, I don’t hold with sendin
none of these here doctors, and lawyers, and ’losophers.—I 13(3)v 102
look upon it, see, that these here men of larnin jist lay the’r
heads together, and cologue, and jist make laws to ’press the
poor. I’m for ’sportin a plain farmer, like myself, Colonel,
that will act upon nomical principles—an’t I right?” “But tell
us, old fellow,Open note a23-rota A friendly phrase, quite common here. have you any corn to sell up your way?” “Why,
it’s purty tol’able sca’ce. I raised a fine chance this year,
and my wife had the finest passel of truck—I da’e say, she had
greens enough to a ’splied the whole neigborhood; but Jim
Wilson’s critters broke in and most ’stroyed the whole affair:
so it is, I shall have to buy. The neighbors told me, if it had
abin them, as it was me, they would a shot the critters. But
that would abin too sneakin. But an’t you comin to the barbacue,
next Friday? Doctor Crab is goin to have a great barbacue,
and goin to make a stump speech; and there’s to be the
greatest doins that ever was heard on. He’s sent up two barrels
of whiskey, and—” “Where is it to be?”—“Why it’s to
be at Ellum’s Mill; and old Molly’s goin to do her best, I dare
say sh’ll make her own out on ’em. She’s one of your most inactive
women folks in all my knowin, and she has plenty to
go upon. Come up, Thursday, to my house, and bring your
gun, and we’ll take the hounds and have a hunt. Thank God,
I have plenty to go upon, enough to eat and drink, and plenty
to feed your critter. We’ll knock up a fat chicken or two, and
my wife is first rate at a cup of coffee. Stay all night, and
we’ll take a hunt in the mornin!” “Well, Sir, I believe I
will.” “That’s clever: I shall look for you.” “So, some of
your neighbors are a mind to contest the public sales?” “They
say so. Tom Towns says he has a friend that will help him
out. But you know how it was the first land sales; every poor
fellow as fout for his country, was forgotton, see, and kicked
off, and thought nothin of—Don’t tell me about premptions; oh!
I seed enough! Colonel Donalson said it was a diabolical
business.” Though I was unable to discover the Colonel’s
candidate, I was pleased with the blunt honesty of the countryman,
who was now interrupted by the entrance of another
countryman.

The ladies withdrew, but I was spell-bound to the spot.— 13(4)r 103
It is the rude state of the species, we are to seek for the
true characteristics of man. When he becomes polished, his
resources enables him to conceal his real character.

The second guest was alike known to the Colonel and the
first guest. “How goes it, how goes it, old fellow?” said the
Colonel, to the second guest. “Why purty well, I’m ’bliged
to you. How’s it wi’ yourself. How goes it” [to the first guest]
“Mr. Smith?” “Purty well, how’s it wi’ yourself?—And how
is all your consarns?”

First Guest. “All well but my oldest darter; she’s got her
ager yet—How’s all your consarns?”

Colonel. “Maria, set that decanter back, and get some hot
coffee, and set a plate. Come, Sir,” [to second guest] “help yourself;
that is old Kentucky—come, Sir, take some breakfast;
the girl will soon have you a hot steak.”

First Guest. “Well, what’s for times your way?”

Second Guest. “I tell you what, it’s purty diggin—”[seats
himself at table]“—Corn’s a dollar a bushel, and can’t be got at
that—and some is runin away, and some talkin o’ the ’lection,
and some’s talkin o’ the land sales. This whiskey’s prime.”

First Guest. “Who’s runaway.”

Second Guest. “Bill Cheatum’s cleared out. He sarved
Tom Marchant the slickest as ever you heard on in all the
days o’ your life. We was all settin talkin and takin a dram
in at Merchant’s last Friday, before breakfast, when who
should come along, ridin of a critter,Open note a24-rota In this country horses are called critters—In West Pennsylvania, and West
Virginia, they are called beasts. but Bill. I seed he
had skins tied behind him; so he hitches his critter, and comes
in, and after talkin awhile, and takin a dram, he axed to look
at some cloth, and told Marchant to cut off four yards, and
takes out a 100 dollar note, and pays for the cloth, and puts
the change in his pocket, and axed Marchant if he didn’t want
to trade for some coonskins. Marchant said he didn’t care if
he did, if they were good. So Bill goes out and brings in the
coonskins. Marchant looks at them—very good skins—counted
the tails, and axed what for trade he’d make? So, Bill said
he’d take same he’d always gave, and would take it in domestic
cotton; and the other agreed to it, and the skins lay on the 13(4)v 104
counter. So, after awhile Bill went off, and I went off home,
too, and never heard any more of it till yesterday; I was at the
store, and Marchant, says to me, says he, ‘do you think that
r—l Cheatum didn’t cheat me that day, give me a counterfeit
note—and didn’t you see how slick he sarved me about the
coonskins. Didn’t you see the coonskins, and didn’t you see
the note?’ ‘Yes, says I, I saw the coonskins, and the
note, too.’ ‘Nothing in the world but possom skins, coontails
tied to them, and only bare two coonshkins in the whole,
one at top and one at bottom.’ With that he showed me the
skins; and sure enough nothing but possum skins, and the note
not worth one cent. It’s as fair cheatin says I, as ever I seed in
my life; and you can make him smoke for it. Yes, says Marchant,
but catching’s before hanging—the villain’s cleared out.”

Thus the Colonel and his guests talked and laughed at the
coonskins—drank whiskey, electioneered, and finally settled
the affairs of the nation among themselves.

N. B. I leave this for Virginia, next week.

Letter XXXVII.

A merry Christmas to you; and a merrier one than we
have, you need not. I cannot hold the pen for laughing.
Such another comic farce was never played on any stage as
was played here last night. But first, without meeting or
seeing your brother, I arrived, on my way from Virginia, at the
Bluff, last night. I met with the Colonel at Limestone Court,
and the evening being fine, and our company lively and jovial,
we concluded to proceed all the way to the Bluff, where we
arrived about 10 o’clock, and found the company still up.
For though they had no expectation of seeing me, till I entered
the house, they were looking for the Colonel, who, by promise,
was to be home that night.

The Colonel has been appointed to marry people since I
left the Bluff; and, late as the hour was, he had to marry a
couple, who had been waiting for him from an early hour in
the day. The clerk of the county, who boards with the Colonel,
and who had issued the license, came in to apprise him,
and the Colonel forthwith sent for the couple. Imagine our
surprise, at seeing an old man of about sixty, and the bride
little under. The Colonel, being a man of humour, blends sundry
ceremonies with the marriage contract, suited to his fancy
and the persons he marries.

In the first place he told the couple to stand forth, asked
them several ludicrous questions—made them repeat the Lord’s
prayer—and when the ceremony was ended, (being put up to
it by the young men who boarded with him) directed them to a
room of his own house, to spend the night. We then separated,
and retired to rest, and this morning we were thrown into
convulsions with laughter, at the merry dance the lovers were
led after they left us. During my absence from the Bluff, several
young doctors and lawyers have arrived, and have their
residence here. Being young, wild, and frolicksome, they are
always devising some means of amusement, and the old couple
were selected as a subject of sport, upon whom it appeared they
played sundry mischievous pranks, in the course of the night.
For this purpose they laid their plan during the day, selecting
a room for the purpose. They went so far, in the first place,
to persuade a merry old soul of a bar-keeper to marry the couple
during the day; and they were in the act of setting off to
their home, when the bar-keeper told them he “was not the
Colonel; that he was only an apprentice, and married them by
way of getting his hand in.” But the party contrived to keep
them, knowing the Colonel would certainly be at home.—
Meantime they had removed every thing out of the room which
might serve as weapons of defence, and carefully disposed some
plank in a corner of the room, and was at no small pains to
dress up one of the part like a ghost, and esconsed him behind
the plank.

The houses at the Bluff are nothing but rude cabins built
of logs, with cracks between the logs, so that any one without 14 14(1)v 106
can see what passes within. These mischievous wags, had
fixed the bed upon a lilt, which by pulling a rope fastened to
it, would fall down. This rope they drew through, in the
outside, between the logs. They had also provided themselves
with a number of canes, of different sizes—the cane being
hollow, served as bugles, and make a hollow, doleful sound,
when blown through with the mouth. Some of the canes
were large, and others small, so as to have treble, tenour, bass.
Thus, the bride and bridegroom were no sooner beded, and a
bright fire in the hearth, than the ghost, upwards of six feet in
height, stalked forth with a white sheet round it, and advanced
towards the lovers, with a slow grave step. Those without
began to blow their bugles, at the same time. The bride
shrieked out, and covered her head—not so the bridegroom—
being an old soldier, it would have taken more ghosts than one
to have frightened him. Finding the ghost continued to advance,
he sprang out of bed, and looked about for some weapon
for defence; finding nothing but a box of nails, which from
its weight he was unable to wield, he flew round the room for
something else. Meanwhile the ghost slipped out of doors.—
The hero finding he had fled, exclaimed, “Ah, d—n you, if
you had only waited a moment longer, I’d a tore your long
trappings for you.” “Oh, my dear,” said the bride, “what
was that? Listen—only hear—Oh, mercy, we’ll be carried
away—we’ll be murdered—help me up—I always heard old
Melton haunted the Bluff.” “Haunt the d—l; its them fellows,
I tell you, makin their fun—lie still. Oh, blow away
and be d—d,” said the old man. “But you don’t come in here
again,” and pushed the door too; but finding neither bolt nor
latch, he placed one of the planks against it, and betook himself
to bed again. The imps watching him through the cracks
all the while, he no sooner drew the clothes over him than down
came the bed and all, with a sudden crash! Report says, instead
of praying for his enemies, like a good christian, he uttered
many hard names: and running out of doors, swore vengence
against every shoe-boot gentleman on the Bluff. He flew
round the cabin with the agility of a youth of fifteen; and the
gentlemen took to flight. “Where are you,” cried the enraged 14(2)r 107
lover; “I dare you to show your faces; I’ll whip the best
of you; I’ll take you one by one, and whip the whole of
you. Pretty gentlemen with your high crowned hats, and
shoe-boots, a screaking.” It was to no purpose he drove his
enemies from one position to another; he would no sooner return
to bed, than his tormentors renewed the music of canes—
sometimes putting them through the cracks of the house, near
to the ear of the bride: the old man losing all patience, left
the place, with his bride, before day, and it is supposed without
sleep!—This was really cruel! In these, as well as all
other cases, we ought to fulfil the golden rule.

This place looks precisely as it did when I arrived last
year, and my absence seems only a dream. The ducks and
geese, and swans, seem to be playing where I left them. There
are great doings going on here. The population has greatly
increased, and the whole country round is one scene of activity.

Letter XXXVIII.

Since the weather became mild, I frequently ride out
through this beautiful country, and find no little to admire and
amuse. This town is in the centre of Lawrence county, and
it is supposed will be the county seat of justice. It is 20 miles
south of the Bluff, in a most enchanting situation. Several
very respectable families live here; the town is handsomely laid
off, and the country around it is as rich as heart can wish. I
have formed an acquaintance here with an elderly Tennesseean,
the incidents of whose life is a complete novel.

His father was the first white man that made a permanent
settlement on the waters of the Holston, now in the bounds
of Tennessee. He settled on the Wataga, a creek that empties 14(2)v 108
into the Holston. His name was Burlison, a native of New Jersey,
and moved from thence to North Carolina, and finally to Wataga.
He was allured, in the first place by the prospect of game,
and, in the second place, by good land, and was soon followed by
others; and by their united efforts successfully disputed the
hunting grounds with the Indians. The timid deer, assailed
on all sides by deadly foes, fled before the white man for shelter
amongst the Indians. The adventurous white man pursued
the game, but in doing so, he was fiercely opposed by the
Indians, who disputed every inch of ground with him, at the
mouths of their rifles, until they were fairly compelled to
yield. Thus was Tennessee settled. This settlement was
made about the year 17741774 or 17751775.

Mr. Burlison was so young at this time, that he recollects
nothing of the enterprize. He lost his father at twelve
years of age, and from that day, to the end of the Creek war,
he has been almost constantly with arms in his hands!—He is
a stout man, about 50 years of age—is honest, affable, and generous
as a prince; has experienced every vicissitude of fortune,
and endured every species of suffering! Peace and war, sickness
and health, poverty and plenty, has at different times
been his lot.—He is at this time possessed of an independent
fortune, and yet this man, with the manners of a courtier,
cannot write his own name! though he reads very well.

This gentleman, for such he is, losing his father at the
early age he did, with eight more children, the widow had to
struggle with the Indians on one side, and the tories on the other.
Most of the children were boys, and their father left property
sufficient to educate them, and left strict injunctions to that
amount; but the revolutionary war coming on, the widow,
between the tories and the Indians, was stripped of every thing
she had, excepting a valuable brood mare! In order to save
this last of her property, she was forced to keep it in the
house where she slept every night! But those lawless ruffians,
the tories, gaining intelligence of the fact, proceeded to the
house, and forcing the door, took her off. This was the last
thing she had. Her situation was now at the highest pitch of
human misery. Without a friend, without provision; the 14(3)r 109
Indians in alliance with the British, killing all that fell in
their way, she dared not flee in that direction. The tories,
burning and murdering all before them, on the other side, it
was but death, and she resolved to meet it in the woods where
she was! Meantime her oldest son, not 14, and Joseph, (of
whom I learned the story,) about 12 years old, would sally
forth with gun on shoulder, sometimes alone, but often with
others of their own age, to watch the motions of the Indians;
and whenever they saw them approach, would hasten to apprize
their parents. These little heroes would pass whole
days in the woods, at all seasons, almost naked, and without
tasting food; for though they saw plenty of game, they were
afraid to shoot lest the report of the gun might betray them to
the Indians. The two oldest brothers would sometimes take
their next eldest brother with them. On this occasion they
would wander farther into the forest than usual, and once
became so bewildered they lost their course, and wandered
about till they were quite spent with fatigue and hunger. The
youngest was carrying one of his brother’s guns, having none
of his own, and seeing a deer jump before him, he levelled the piece
at the deer, and killed it; saying, “Indians, or no Indians, he
would have something to eat—he might as well die one way as another.”
The eldest one being alarmed, forced him away, and
they concealed themselves in the brushwood to await the result,
concluding the Indians, if within hearing, would soon appear.
As they lay concealed, the little one who had done the mischief,
would often rise up to take a peep at his meat. At
length he saw a wolf marching up to it, and pointing it out to
his brothers, they bid him be still; but finding he could not
be restrained, they all ran together and frightened off the
wolf. They then skinned the deer, and kindling a fire, broiled
a part of it and swallowed it hastily; and taking what they
could carry, once more sought their way home, entirely ignorant
of the course. At length night overtook them, and, losing
heart, they threw away their venison, and still wandered on,
without seeing a human face, and without knowing whither
they were going. Late in the night they were overtaken by a
hunter, who conducted them home to no small joy of their 14(3)v 110
mother, who concluded they were killed by the Indians. She
had been running through the forest, from the time it grew dark,
in a state of distraction. Thus Mr. Burlison, and his brothers,
spent nine years, guarding the settlements in this perilous
manner, suffering every species of misery. He was three
years of the time without shoes, and no sort of clothing, but a
shirt made of buckskin!

He states that he had become so inured to cold, hunger,
danger, and fatigue, that he was a stranger to their opposites.
Meantime their settlement advanced by degrees. Those who
survived the fire and sword of the British and the tories,
sought their brothers in the wilderness. Their highborn souls
fired by their wrongs, glowing with resentment, and inspired
by the example of their companions in the wilderness, took
courage from despair. Having nothing left but their lives,
and disdaining alike British gold and British chains, united
with their friends for the common safety. Thus they nurtured
a germ, which, in time, hurled destructionn on their proud oppressors.
Many of these lived to overwhelm their imperious
foewith a complete vengeance. Little did the impolitic Briton
think those outcasts, those little victims of his wanton barbarity,
would ever dare to face him, much less that he would teach
him such a lesson in the art of war, as he never learned before.
If it be asked in time to come, how so potent an army
of vetrans came to be slaughtered by an inferior force, it may
be answered, these were the men, and the sons of those men,
who, thirty-three years back, nobly resolved never to submit
to the British yoke. These were the highminded few, who,
in the tender years of childhood, indignant at their wrongs,
rushed into the woods, destitute of every comfort; but in their
youthful breasts they carried a spark which they cherished at
the hazard of their lives; this spark it was, that, bursting into
a flame, at New Orleans, laid their daring foe at their feet!—
The astonished Britons will long remember, too, that it was
his ill judged policy, and inhuman cruelty, that paved the way
to it.

Mr. Burlison related many anecdotes of those enterprizing
men. As they increased in numbers, they extended their 14(4)r 111
settlements, always keeping a party of choice spirits watching
the enemy—of these he was one. In one of their excursions
they discovered the fertile plains on Cumberland river; now
West Tennessee. In one of those exploring expeditions he
made two narrow escapes. Coming suddenly upon the Indians
one day, he instantly threw himself flat on the ground,
in some brush wood, and the Indians passed within a few steps
of him. At another time, he and his companions came near
perishing with cold. They had travelled several days in a
succession of snow and rain; one night, however, when they
went to strike their camp, they found their powder wet, and
they had to remain in their wet clothes all night, wet to the
skin, the snow deep, and the night cold and freezing. Thus
was Tennessee settled; and by such men.

It has been said that Tennessee was an asylum for outlaws
and horse thieves. That Tennessee should be exempt from an
evil, common to the settling of all our States, I should be happy
to know. I would recommend to horse thieves in particular
to choose some other asylum in future, as there is not a state
in the Union in which they receive less hospitality.Open note a25-rota The crime of horse-stealing is punished with death.

Letter XXXIX.

I spend much of my time with the Tennesseean. He has
a fund of anecdote, and the most retentive memory of any person
I ever conversed with. As I have nothing better to amuse
you with, I send you more of his history. I was reading this
evening of the treachery of Lord Dunmore. Mr. Burlison
(or Captain, as he is,) listened to me some time, but at last exclaimed,
“Blast him—don’t read any more about him. It
makes my blood boil whenever I hear the name of a Briton.”
See how deep rooted their enmity to the British. They are all 14(4)v 112
so! In the course of the conversation that followed, I asked
him “if he ever felt the effects of fear; that is, did he ever
know what fear was?” “Never but once,” he replied, “and
that was during the shakes;” meaning the earthquakes on the
borders of the Ohio and Mississippi, some years back. You
recollect them, though they were nothing with us in comparison
to those further west.

Taking offence at the general government, Mr. Burlison
quit the country, and removed over the Ohio river, not far
from New Madrid, in 18111811. The first shock happened in the
night, when he and his family were all in bed asleep. All on a
sudden, they were alarmed by the shaking of the beds; he
sprung out of bed, between sleep and awake, but from the reeling
of the house he was unable to keep his feet. The hens
croaked, and the dogs barked. He could not conceive what it
could be. He never thought of an earthquake; but concluded
that either the house was haunted, or the end of the world was
at hand. The terror of the family was beyond description.
They all gave themselves up for lost. He thought he ought to
pray, but could not think of any thing proper to say. After
the first shock was over, he determined, if he lived till morning,
to go to his nearest neighbor and ascertain whether it was the
end of the world, or whether the house was haunted. When
the morning came, while he was considering what to do, he was
surprised with another shock, worse than the first. As this
happened in the day time, he thought, within himself, it could
not be spirits, as he never heard of their doing mischief in the
day time, therefore it must be the end of the world! He was
very wicked himself; his children were wicked, and the neighborhood
was very wicked, and he concluded they were about to
receive the chastisement of heaven. He had a very fleet horse
in the stable, but not wishing to leave his family, and being unwell,
he desired his son, a man grown, to gallop over to neighbor
――, and see how it was there, and if it were the same, he
would leave the place instantly. The young man, John, set
off to the stable, while the earth, the trees and stable, were
swinging backwards and forwards, to such a degree, that it was
with difficulty he reached it. He at length brought out the 15(1)r 113
horse, and, mounting him, flew over the rocking plain. But
it was just as bad there, said Mr. Burlison, and I now bethought
myself it must be an earthquake. But let it be what it might,
I saw we were all doomed to destruction; for, upon going to the
door, I saw the earth sinking, and the trees falling. The great
road passed by my door; this road was alive with men, women,
and children, shrieking and crying, and some of them almost
without clothes, as they had escaped from their beds, and
nearly frozen with cold. Some were without hats or shoes—
some running one way, some another, in a state of distraction.

Mr. Burlison had heard of a neighborhood, not far off,
where the people were professors of religion. I thought if I
could live to get there, they would teach me how to prepare for
death. My family, were, many of them, sick. I had a new
wagon, and a fine team of horses, and several good saddle
horses besides. I harnessed up my team without delay, and
put the sick ones in the wagon, and the well ones on horses,
and set off for the religious neighborhood.

My wife had been sick a long time, and had eat nothing
for some days. As we drew near the neigborhood, we espied
a woman sitting in a door, as it were, eating mush and milk.
My wife’s appetite revived at the moment, and she expressed
an eager desire to have some of the mush and milk. We approached
the door and stopped the wagon, and made our business
known to the woman. She had none to spare. She had but
little meal in the house—had a great way to go to mill, and
could not tell when she could get more. But my wife is sick, and
has eat nothing for several days, and as she fancies she can
eat the mush and milk, I will give you any price you may ask.
I took out a silver dollar, at the same time, and held it out to
her. She then handed my wife a tin cup about half full of
mush and milk, for which I paid her half a dollar! I now began
to think I had made a bad exchange, for the people I had
left, though wicked, were kind.

When I arrived at the house I had been directed to, the
man informed me I could have a house, but it was very small,
without a floor, and full of corn: but if I would be at the trouble15 15(1)v 114
of emptying it of the corn, and put it in a crib, I might have
the house, or pen rather, for so much—ten times the worth of
it. I had no choice, and feeble as myself and family were, we
joined too and soon dislodged the corn; and my family, (nine
children,) my wife, and myself, crowded in this miserable hole.
I was little concerned about worldly affairs, however, as I expected
an end of all things; for there was no alteration for the
better in the shakes; indeed they were rather worse; all I wanted,
or cared for, was to be amongst Godly people, that they
might instruct me how to prepare for my doom. In short, I
cared nothing about the things of this world. But such was
not the case with my religious friends. Some admired my fine
wagon; some admired my horses; and others admired my fine
new saddles and bridles; and some one thing, and some another,
and they must have this, and they must have that. I cared
nothing about property provided they would pray for me,
and preach for me! They plied me with enough of both! But
I soon discovered there were wicked people here too, and, inured
to the shakes, they resumed their old practices. Some
horse-raced it; some played cards, and some preached, whilst
others were cheating their neighbors! I saw some running
races, some playing cards, some preaching, and the earth
shaking, all at the same instant. No wonder, I thought, these
people have called down the judgment of heaven. I thought
I had seen all strange sights that were to be seen in the world,
but never saw the equal of this.

By degreses I grew familiar to the shakes myself; but in
the meantime these religious people had cheated me out of all
my property, and I thought it high time to quit the country;
and, from that day to this, I put no faith in religious people.
My fine wagon and team; all my horses and all my money,
1,500 dollars in silver, and a fine drove of cattle, gone. I mustered
up enough to buy a couple of little ponies for my wife
and the two youngest children, to ride, and returned to Tennessee
worse than nothing, and had to begin the world again.
I now left my wife and children to shift for themselves, and
went into the army, and acting as Commissary under General 15(2)r 115
Jackson, I soon recovered my losses. So much for getting in
a pot with the government.Open note a26-rota Having inadvertantly settled on the Indian lands, his house was burnt by order
of government.

As the German’s say, “I suspect” this will please you.

Letter XL.

I can find nothing better to amuse you than the anecdotes
and history of the old Tennesseean, particularly as I know
you to be partial to them. Mr. Burlison is equal to the best
library; and, in fact, no library contains a greater variety of
amusement. He can commence at the beginning of his life,
and relate every incident, not only of himself, but of the times.
But chiefly I love to hear his anecdotes of General Jackson’s
struggles and difficulties in his various campaigns, and the
incidents of those brave men who suffered with him.

There is now, I am told, in press, a well written book,
which gives a detail of the southern army, and the principal
incidents of General Jackson’s life. Such a book is much
wanted, and must be very gratifying to the friends and admirers
of this great man. The smallest incident of his companions,
and his unequalled courage, is devoured with avidity.
The settlers of this new country love him to idolatry; and my
Tennessee friend is not amongst the least. He was with the
General during the whole of the war—as also two of his sons,
and a son-in-law. The hardships and privations endured
by the General, and his men, are almost incredible. Mr.
Burlison, as well as his brother, and a son of each, held a
captain’s commission in the Creek war; and he gives the
clearest description of it I have ever heard. He says the army
suffered almost to starvation for want of provisions; and as
they were principally militia, it required all the General’s 15(2)v 116
skill and address to keep the army together; sometimes, however,
a mutinous spirit would appear, in spite of him, and once
in particular, their sufferings were so great, that all the appeals
of the General to their patriotism, failed; and though, like a
common soldier, he shared all their wants and hardships, it
would not do, they determined to leave him. His appeals were
so pathetic on this occasion as to draw tears from the bystanders.
After he thought they were reconciled, he rode out
alone, one day, and was astonished to find the whole brigade
in the act of marching to Tennessee. He instantly snatched a
gun from one of the men, and his left arm being useless from a
wound, he rested the gun between his horses ears, and placing
himself in front of the column, swore “the first man that
moved one step forward, was a dead man.” His gun was
cocked, ready to fire, and at this critical moment his friends,
having missed him, flew to his side. Thus each party stood
some minutes; at length the men turned back to camp. “I
thought I had seen courage and boldness before,” said Mr.
Burlison, “but there is not such a man in the world—for one
man with one arm to stop a whole brigade! He is the most
undaunted being in creation.” Mr. Burlison was one of those
who adhered to General Jackson.

That inimitable writer, Voltaire, observes, “that to convey
a just idea of the characteristics of men, you must strictly
observe the expressions which accompany their actions.”
This was fully illustrated by the expression of General Jackson
as he was steadying the gun between his horses ears. This
act, and the expression that accompanied it, conveys a better
idea of the man than volumes elaborately written.

At another of those mutinies, he threw himself before
them, and told them they should not succeed but by passing
over his dead body. “In opposing you I am only doing my
duty, and I will die where I stand, before I will dishonor my
country. What! will you have it said, you abandoned your
General?”

On another occasion, he addressed them in a speech of
some length, and thus concluded: “I know you are anxious to
see your families—and so am I—yet, do stay a little longer!— 15(3)r 117
Go with me—the enemy is near—we will conquer him—and
then go to our homes!” Again, he told them, “the heart of
your General has been pierced! The first object of his affections,
and the first glory of his life, were the volunteers of
Tennessee. The very name recalls to my mind a thousand
tender recollections. Oh, then, my brothers in arms, do not,
do not leave me.” You see how much he bore rather than
resort to cruel measures towards those he loved dear as his
own soul. He humoured and carressed his men to such a
degree, Mr. Burlison says, that they were like spoiled children
—the camp exhibited nothing but a scene of uproar—
singing songs, laughing, and loud talking. This laxity of
manners led them to frequent mutinies, till the General was
exhausted, and he was compelled to make an example of one
of the ringleaders, though it wrung his heart with the bitterest
sorrow. After this, he had no trouble with the army. Mr.
Burlison, who was present at the execution, said he had seen
many fall in battle—he had seem many wounded—and had
witnessed distress and death in all its shapes, but never saw
any thing so awful, or that shocked him more, than this execution.
The army was drawn out on parade—the criminal
seated in the centre on a stool—his eyes tied with a handkerchief,
and eight men, with never failing rifles, standing round
him. Mr. Burlison’s brother was one, but neither Mr. Burlison,
his brother, nor a single man in the army, least of all,
the criminal, expected he would be shot, till the word fire;
and eight bullets pierced him at once! It was expected he
would be pardoned, as many had been before. That night not
a word was heard in the camp. They were all as silent as death.
What an effect! General Jackson had no more plague with
mutinies.

The men, for want of roads, were compelled to take the
horses from the wagons, and carry them up the mountains
themselves. On these occasions, the General would throw off
his coat and aid the men.

At one time he overtook the baggage wagons at Tennnessee
River, and the landing being steep, the men were in the
act of pushing the wheels up the bank; the general, as usual, 15(3)v 118
threw off his coat, and laid hold of the wheels, but seeing one
man idle, “friend,” said the General, “why do you not assist
your companions?” “I am a corporall, Sir.” “Ah! and what
of that; I am a Generall.” Some one by this time discovered
who the stranger was, and informed the corporal. It is
hardly necessary to add that the corporal soon put his shoulder
to the wheel.

General Jackson, however true it be, is, nevertheless,
charged with partiality to his friends; and who is not? But it
is said, by those who would lose their lives for him, that he
advances his friends or intimates, in preference to others,
equally capable. How did he know this? He preferred his
friends, because his long acquaintance with their integrity
and honor justified the choice! He is, also, accused of being
arbitrary. Whether the charge be just or unjust, the result
proves he has few equals in the art of war.

To judge accurately of any subject it requires a thorough
knowledge of the thing submitted. War is an art, if it be not
a science, which above all others, requires genius to conceive,
skill to concert, wisdom to conduct, judgment to determine,
promptness to execute, ability to command, fortitude to endure;
patriotism, energy, firmness, decision, perseverance and
courage. That General Jackson, possesses all these, in an
eminent degree, his enemies admit. But, independently of
these, he possesses magnanimity, candour, humanity—a knowledge
of the world—a liberal education. He is just, he is bountiful,
and beyond, far beyond example, compassionate. This
is his character. Now, where will you find a man, at once
competent to judge of all these qualities! Not one in an hundred,
to say the least. He must possess a competent knowledge
of them in the first place; and, in the next place, he must
be divested of prejudice. The first requires a mind highly
improved by observation and study—and, as for prejudice, it
is without remedy, if it be not in education. It requires men
of the first science to judge accurately of a single blade of
grass—but for an illiterate man to judge accurately on the
qualities of a general, is out of the question; because, it
would be to know what he does not, which is impossible! And, 15(4)r 119
because, he does not understand the subject submitted, he has
no idea within himself to correspond with it, and both are
necessary to pass sentence of judgment. A man may be
competent to decide upon the qualities in question; yet, he may
err from prejudice, and all reasoning, founded on error, is false.
Of prejudice there are several—Prejudices arising from things,
from words, from ourselves, from others; but none of these are
so apt to lead us astray, as self. This is beautifully illustrated
by the judge who reversed his own judgment, in the
case of the ox; and envy in a few individuals has, doubtless,
led them to instil it into the minds of others, who are unable
to judge for themselves. In all countries there are not wanting
something to keep envy and malice alive. It is prone in the
human species. General Jackson has fewer enemies, perhaps,
than any man of his notoriety. Yet he has some.

With respect to General Jackson’s conduct at New Orleans,
it reminds one of Columbus and the egg. He had undertaken
to defend his country against fearful odds. It was
an enterprize deep with hazard. It was a desperate case, and
required a desperate remedy. His mind was equal to the enterprize,
and every act of the man’s life proves, that love of
country is his ruling passion. What a curse this passion of
envy is. One would think that an American did not exist
who did not admire General Jackson.

It would seem that the God of Nature has annexed to this
unnatural passion of envy, its own punishment, whilst the objects
of it sustain no injury. Wherever envy prevails, all is
misery. It not only destroys all relish for those things we actually
possess, but sinks us into contemptible wretches.

Wealth is another great cause of envy in the human family;
and while I am on the subject, I will give you an anecdote
of yesterday: Tom Envy came into my parlor, while he was
under the influence of an affront put upon him by his rich neighbor.
“D—n him,” said Tom; “I remember the time when
he had to borrow twenty-five cents from me to pay for his
breakfast; and do you think he had not like to have drove
over me, just now! I saw him, driving along in his carriage.
I was on foot. I knew his waiter. I stood still till he came 15(4)v 120
up to me, and I bowed to him: ‘drive on,’ said he, and went
by me like fury.” “Well, friend,” said I, “let him do so.—
He only degrades himself, while you are just as you were before.
When he treats you ungratefully, he is guilty of the
blackest crime, while you sustain no injury, except in your
own imagination. But are you sure, friend, you would not act
as he did, were you to change places with him? Wealth, you
say, has had this effect upon him, and the same cause always
produces the same effect. In that case you would act the part
you now condemn.” Tom was struck by the force of the argument,
and after rolling up a fresh quid of tobacco, and
thrusting it in his mouth, he said I was right, he believed;
“but, for all that, I would like to be rich, if it were only to
mortify that upstart neighbor.” “There, now, you are wrong
again. If you wish to punish him, only be more wise and virtuous,
and the fame of your good name will mortify him much
more than wealth. But if this does not satisfy you, you
have only to go to work. If you wish to be a rich man, industry
and economy will soon do the business. You have the
example of your rich neighbor before you; tread in his steps.”
Tom scratched his head, and said, he believed it was dinner
time, and departed. Some pray for riches—riches they obtain, And, watched by villains, for their wealth are slain!

Letter XLI.

You say you are pleased with the countryman in my last.
Here is a score of them. Perhaps this may bring another reply.
I am much pleased, in the meantime, to hear your health
is restored, and hope to wish you much joy, on a certain occasion,
ere long.

I strolled out with a friend to see a neighbor yesterday,
who lives on the skirts of the town, merely for the sake of
amusement. If you wish to ascertain the dialect of a country,
you must seek for it amongst the common, or in other words, the
lower order of the people, as well bred people speak alike.
But the children of both classes are good specimens of dialect,
as the better sort, in this country, particularly, consign their
children to the care of negroes. You see I am for another
dish of philosophy. But to go on. Those who have black
nurses, and those who have illiterate white nurses to attend
children, are at much pains and cost for teachers to unlearn
them what they need never have learned, had they kept illiterate
people from them at first. This is not the case with the
poorer class of people, as their children are nursed by themselves,
and speak their language.

While we were chatting with our neighbor, a number of
people rode up to the door, and we went out to see what was
the matter. It appeared they were on their return from a barbacue,
and had heard a stump speech. Some of these were
mere children, and some were grown persons. Our neighbor,
who was aware of their business, asked “What news from
the barbacue?” “Oh there was a proper sight of people—Oh,
my! but there was—You never seed the like! And a heap of
’em had on ruffled shirts, and shoeboots, and was so proud,
stepin about; and there was some monstrous purty gals there,
and some dinged ugly ones, too; and such a powerful chance of
apples and cyder, and ginger cakes. I tell ye what, they were
prime; and they made such a fuss, and covaulted, and was going
to fight; you never saw the like in all the days of your life.
Then these fellows that lives on Flint, had liked to abin whipped,
steppin about. I tell you what, them fellows is monstrous
proud; and old F――, was there, too, and got the maddest, he
fairly snorted. Oh, he was rearin. And them fellows from
Elum’s Mill, turned in with old F――, and snorted and covaulted,
and dared them ruffle-shirt fellows to turn out. Oh,
they got the maddest! And Mr. E―― made a stump speech.
He said if we voted for that there ’tother man, I forgot his 16 16(1)v 122
name, that government would come and take away our land,
and we would have to pay taxes and all that.” These were
mostly Tennesseeans and North Carolinians.

I saw a piece in the papers not long since, which went to
satirize the Tennessee dialect. I would advise such people to
look at home. Those who live in glass houses, ought not to
throw stones. Let us compare this with the dialect of Virginia.
You remember the bear hunting party from Bedford. I will
stake them against the whole United States. One of them called
at our house on his return, and entertained us with the following
account of his adventures: “You know da is heap of
baw (bear) on da Kenhawa; so I and Bill Prout, Jess Passin,
and Zack Miller, are all goin to Kenhawa to hunt baw—
Kenhawa mighty far—so we walk—we walk—last we come
to da Kenhawa—Kenhawa b—i—g river, for true—Tell
you what, it skears me—well, I goes out into de woods—I hear
noise—I look up tree, and see a baw!—I went to da root o’ da
tree—I bark like any dog—presently da baw come husslin
down—Ah, boy!—I took to my keels, and did book it.”—Now
for the Pennsylvania dialect: “Jim, where are you and Sam;
why but ye’s pit (put) you cow in the pester, (pasture;) ’am
sure a towled ye’s the mornin.—Ye’s cruel bad children—and
there a fine job ye’s done to leave you gears out by.” The
Yankee: “Flora you want (ought) to wash them clothes right
away. You hadn’t ought to left ’em so.” “What say?”

“Covault” is of Tennessee birth, and not unaptly applied in
the sense they use it. It signifies an unruly or ungovernable
man; also an untame horse, or any thing that cannot be controuled.
It is quite a classical word, and I hope to see it
admitted into the English language. It appears to be a compound
of co and vault, which are both very significant. For
the rest I find the Tennesseeans are a very plain people, and
have a very high sense of honor. Their houses and equipage
are void of ostentation: The North Carolinians next; the
South Carolians and Georgians, next: and the Virginians the
the most ostentatious of any. But the preaching; you must
hear that. This country is run mad after preaching.—Here
is a new sect called Cumberland presbyterians; and between 16(2)r 123
these, the baptists, methodists, the woods resound. As they
have no churches they preach out of doors mostly. I have
just returned from preaching, where I remained about two
hours, and the parson, when I left him appeared to be only
about midway through his sermon. He ought to have a patent-
right, for he certainly has the strongest voice in the state.

I have met with several excellent orators since I have
been in the country; the best I ever heard. Parson Burress,
formerly of Virginia, is, doubtless, the finest public speaker
in the Union. I have seen no parallel for him. The Reverennd
Mr. Butler and McMahon, the latter of Nashville, Tennessee,
are, also, men of handsome delivery. These are methodists.
I was truly astonished at this, as I never saw one of the
sect, before, hardly worth hearing. The baptists, and the
Cumberland presbyterians, are continually preaching and
covaulting. Mr. Porter, a most amiable man; also a Mr.
Madden, preached in Mr. B’s house since I was here, and
that busybody, Mr. They say, reported Mr. B. was to preach
here to day, that is, out at the stand in the woods. I observed,
“I will go and hear Mr. Porter.” “Oh,” said a bystander,
“it is another preacher than Mr. Porter that preaches today
—there is not such another preacher itn the known world—
he’s a monstrous fine preacher.” As I had heard some fine
preaching, for the oratory I went to hear this none such.
But never was I so disappointed. I placed myself in front of
the preacher, (a great rough looking man,) and the congregation
sat some on fallen timber, some on benches carried there
for the purpose—some sat flat on the ground, and many stood
up—about 500 in all. His text was, “He that hath ears to
hear, let him hear.” The people must have been deaf indeed
that could not have heard him. He neither made division nor
subdivision. He is one of the Cumberland presbyterians.
They are Calvinists, it is said, but do not deem education a necessary
qualification to preach the Gospel. But to the sermon:
He began low but soon bawled to deafening. He spit in his hands,
rubbed them against each other, and then would smite them together,
till he made the woods ring. The people now began to covault,
and dance, and shout, till they fairly drowned the speaker. 16(2)v 124
Many of the people, however, burst out into a laugh. Seeing this
the preacher cried out, pointing to them with his finger,
“Now look at them sinners there—You’ll see how they will
come tumbling down presently—I’ll bring them down.” He
now redoubled his strength; spit in his hands and smote them
together, till he made the forest resound, and took a fresh
start; and sure enough the sinners came tumbling down. The
scene that succeeded baffles description. Principally confined
to women and children, the young women had carefully taken
out their combs, from their hair, and laid them and their bonnets
in a place of safety, as though they were going to set in
for a fight; and it was much like a battle. After tumbling on
the ground, and kicking sometime, the old women were employed
in keeping their clothes civil, and the young men (never
saw an old man go near them) would help them up, and taking
them by each hand, by their assistance, and their own agility,
they would spring nearly a yard from the ground at every
jump, one jump after another, crying out, glory, glory, as loud
as their strength would admit; others would be singing a lively
tune to which they kept time—hundreds might be seen and
heard going on in this manner at once. Others, again, exhausted
by this jumping, would fall down, and here they lay
cross and pile, heads and points, yelling and screaming like
wild beasts of the forest, rolling on the ground, like hogs in a
mire,—very much like they do at camp meetings in our country,
but more shameless; their clothes were the color of the dirt;
and like those who attend the camp meetings, they were all of
the lower class of the people. I saw no genteel person among
them. Are not people of education answerable for this degradation
of society? It appears to me, since I have had opportunities
of mixing with the world, that there are a certain
class of citizens, whose interest it is to keep their fellow men
in ignorance. I am very sure, half a dozen words of common
sense, well applied, would convince those infatuated young
women that they were acting like fools. In fact a fool is more
rational. Not one of those but would think it a crying sin to
dance.

The noise of the preacher was effectually drowned at 16(3)r 125
length, and a universal uproar succeeded louder than ever.—
Whilst this was going on, I observed an old woman near me,
snivelling and turning up the whites of her eyes, (she was a
widow—all the widows, old and young, covaulted,) and often
applying her handkerchief to her eyes, and throwing herself
into contortions, but it would not do, she could not raise the
steam.

I pointed to one young woman, with a red scarf, who had
tired down several young men, and was still covaulting, and
seeing she jumped higher than the rest, I asked “who she
might be?” One of the gentlemen, a Mr. Gallagher, who was
standing near, gave such an account of her (men know these
things) as would shock a modest ear. “D—n her, she gets
converted every meeting she goes to.” How much better had
she been at a ball, (if they must dance,) where they would be
obliged to behave decent, and where vile characters dare not
appear.

Shortly after they began to rear and covault, a daughter
of Mr. B’s began too. He walked up to her, and led her off
some distance, and sat her down at the root of a tree. When
he returned, I inquired “if she was sick?” “No,” he answered,
“but she was beginning to go on as the rest, and I
told her if she wished to worship God, to do it there, and not
to expose herself before faces.”

The preacher having spent all his ammunition, made a
pause, and then called upon all the sinners to approach, and be
prayed for. Numbers went forward, all women and children,
(children of ten years old get religion!) and the priest began to
pray; when a decent looking young man approached the stand, and
took a female by the arm, and led her away. As he walked
along, the preacher pointed to him, and said, “God, strike
that sinner down!” The man turned around, and in an angry
tone said, “God has more sense than to mind such a d—d fool
as you are!” and resumed his course. He was one of the brave
Tennesseeans; and the lady was his wife.

Being tired of such an abominable scene, I proposed returning
home, and, taking a near cut through a slip of woodland,
we surprized the red scarf lady in a manner that gave us
no favorable opinion of her piety.

Meeting has broke up, and several are coming to our
house to dine. I wish to have some conversation with them,
and shall finish my letter afterwards.

I took my seat at the table, by a stout, jolly looking lady,
who, in replying to some of the party, observed “a great many
had got religion that day.” Now was my time—“And
pray, Madam,” said I, “what religion did they get?” “Why,
that is a queer question—there is but one religion, every body
knows.” “There you are a little mistaken, Madam; there
are various religions. There is the Christian religion; the
Jewish religion; the Mahometan religion, &c. &c.; which of
those religions was it you spoke of?” “I never heard of them
before!” and stared at me in astonishment. “And what religion
are you of?” said the lady. I told her my religion was
piety. “Never heard of it before;” and doubtless she told the
truth. “And what sort of a religion is piety?” “Why, Madam,
it is simply to love God and my neighbor.” “It is a
queer name, and it’s the first I ever heard of it. Is there many
of the pieties where you come from?” “Not many.” Mr.
G. and several at the table could scarcely suppress a laugh.
“And pray, Madam, since we have made up our acquaintance,
may I take the liberty of asking which of these religions you
profess?” “Ne’re one,” said the lady; “I’m a Cumberland
presbyterian.” The company could no longer retain themselves;
they roared; whilst the subject of it had not the least
idea of the cause.

Now, this woman, take her or any other subject, was a
reasonable and intelligent woman. Thoroughly acquainted
with the ordinary business of life. She was from the interior
of Kentucky; and had attended preaching for twenty years!
and yet is ignorant, not only of the duties, but of the very
name of a christian! Whose fault is this? The fault of the
priest! So they can draw the women (they do not seem partial
to men) after them, they care for nothing else. If there is
a hell, there will be more priests in it than any other description
of people.

Letter XLII.

In answer to yours—This place is growing. The county
seat of justice is fixed here, ever since the state was admitted
in the Union. It contains several genteel families, mostly merchants,
lawyers, and doctors. When I first came here there
were but four cabins: It is now a considerable town. I dare say
you will be pleased with it. It has no navigation, but it is
healthy. This is the richest county, in land, in the state,
and contains many planters of great wealth. But the society is
the best this side of Huntsville, and the flower of it boards at
our house.

In the first place we have two Irish gentlemen, Mr. Gallegher,
and Mr. Maden, and Doctor Baker, the latter of North
Carolina. Mr. Gallegher is a man of highly accomplished
manners, very sprightly and gay, and tells a good story. Mr.
Maden is also good company, and sings, and plays well on the
flute. The Doctor is the best singer I ever heard. He sings
the Turban’d Turk, Blithe Sandy, and Poll, and my
partner Joe, with much taste. These are all young men, and
full of mirth and fun. Mr. B. himself, is not a bad hand at a
story; and Mrs. Burlison is one of the most amiable of her sex.
These, and Miss Burlison, a great beauty, form the society at
Mr. B’s, besides a great number of travellers; of course I spend
my time pleasant enough.

We had had a shower of rain after dinner, and being late,
Mr. G. (who is a merchant) declined going to the store; the
strangers had proceeded to their respective homes, and the air
being cooled by the rain, rendered it necessary to have a fire.
A fire has something cheering and social in its aspect, and always
inspires pleasure and converse.

We all drew our chairs round the hearth, which was
neatly swept, and amused ourselves on the incidents of the day;
and I gained no small credit for my ingenuity in taking the
lady in at dinner. Mr. B. said it was the best preaching he
ever heard—that the woman insisted she was “not a christian.”
Mrs. B. who would do honor to any church, is a baptist, 16(4)v 128
and dislikes this tumbling about, and said she “did not
think there was any good in it.” All had something to say,
and the whole of it was very justly turned into ridicule. Now,
what astonished me was, that when Mr. Porter preached here,
he did not excite the least noise—but to-day, when this babbler
preached, you could not hear your neighbors speak. You
may judge of his qualifications to teach the ignorant—In speaking
of the children of Israel, he said, “they were conveyed
captive to Babylon by the Romans!” With such leaders, no
wonder they both fall into the ditch. But I am going to apprise
you of of a singular occurrence which has excited much
interest in the country round. The house being thronged a
few evenings since, onn account of the court which is sitting, I
arose from the table when I had supped, to make roonm for those
who were waiting, and walked to the door. While I was
standing at the door with a glas of water in my hand, it being
now quite dark, a ragged old looking man, with a heavy pack
on his back, followed by a little boy, approached, and asked me
“if he could stay all night,” supposing me to be the woman of
the house. I spoke to Mr. B. who went to the door and told
the man to come in. He came in, and taking his pack from
his back, (which was a skin with the hair on,) laid it down on
the floor, and, seeming weary, sat down. He was all in tatters;
a small man, and about 60 years of age. The son, for it
was his son, was about 12 years, and something better dressed.
When the rest had supped, he and the boy, also sat down to
supper; and while he was eating, some of the party asked him
how far he had travelled, and what course he came. He
said “from toward Tuscaloosy;” and made no other reply.
When he went to bed, which was in another house, he left his
pack where he first laid it down. Next morning he walked
about the town, and was out most of the day: sometimes his
boy was with him, and sometimes he loitered about the door—
the pack still lying in the same place. But when Mrs. B.
went to sweep the dining room, she gave the pack a kick with
her foot, to move it out of her way, thinking it was nothing
but clothing. “Hump!” said she, “you are heavy;” and applying
her hands to it, was not able to lift it, but with difficulty 17(1)r 129
rolled it over out of her way; and no more was said about it.
Towards evening, the man came in, and said he would be going,
and asked Mrs. B. what was to pay? She told him, nothing;
supposing him to be very poor, from his appearance; though
she said she saw him with money in his hand, when he asked
“what was to pay.”

Sometime after dark he returned, and to our astonishment,
said he had been robbed of 1500 dollars in silver! Every
one was amazed, that a man with so much money, should dress
as he did, and walk on foot; he was in his shirt sleeves, and they
were hanging in ribbands. Mrs. B. now repeated the weight
of the pack; and various were the opinions on the subject.
Some thought his story correct, and that he dressed in that
manner to avoid suspicion; and others gave him no credit, as
he was so careless about the pack.

He stated, that drawing near a house about three miles
distant from the town, where he intended to stay all night,
he saw several men standing in the yard drinking. When he
came up to them he did not like their looks, and laying his
pack on the fence, to rest himself, made some inquiry about
the distance to the next house. The men cursed and swore,
and turned him into ridicule, instead of giving him satisfaction;
pressed him to drink with them; which he refused. But while
he was considering what to do, one of the men went to the
pack, and felt it. Finally, he resolved to return; and putting
on his pack, said he would go back to town. As he said this,
one of the men sat off from the house, nearly in the same direction,
but did not keep the road. He left the house and proceeded
back the same road he came; and another man, he
said, followed. When he had proceeded some distance from
the house, the first man jumped out of the bushes, with a large
club, and threatened his life, if he did not immediately stop
and deliver his pack. By this time the other man appeared,
and by them he was robbed of every dollar!

The men he spoke of, were immediately taken, and proved
to be men of bad character, one in particular; but no money
was found with them. As court was sitting, they were immediately
brought to trial, before his Honor, C. C. Clay, and 17 17(1)v 130
Mrs. B. and myself were called on by both parties successively.
The Commonwealth summoned us the first day, and the
prisoners the next, when and where we stated the substance
which has been related. A number of witnesses were summoned,
and the boy was examined apart from his father, and
agreed nearly with him; and always told the same story,
which was not a very probable one; but neither would tell how
they obtained the money, except that they made it by trading
in furs, towards the Rocky Mountains, and were absent seven
years; and were amongst the Pawnee Indians, and at the lead
mines. But his appearance, and his coming such a circuitous
route, induced the most people to think he did not tell truth;
and though a few of the witnesses seemed to corroborate, with
his testimony, as to the weight of the bundle, not one ever saw
the money. The men accused were acquitted. I never was
more staggered in my opinion, as was also the judge, and
almost every one, so much so, that the smallest particle would
have turned the scale one way or the other. Some said it
must have been lead; others said it might have been silver oar,.
For the honor of Judge Clay, he gave the old man every
opportunity to establish the fact; sending off, to a great distance,
for witnesses; protracting the trial, and seemed anxious
to do the old man justice.

The Judge did not put up at our house, but very politely
called several times. Judge Clay is a very young man, of
pleasing manners, handsome person, and said to be a man of
the first talents in the state. Though this is a new country, I
have witnessed very few judges who might rank with Judge
Clay in elegance of manners.

Thus ended the mighty matter, which excited much
interest, and is still a cause of wonder in the neighborhood.
The old man seems quite chop-fallen, and still hangs about the
house.

Another strange occurrence has, for some time, thrown
the whole neighborhood into confusion and surprize. A woman,
a few miles hence, was taken strangely ill, and said she was
bewitched! She threw up knots of pins, and other things
equally unaccountable; was racked with excruciating pains, so 17(2)r 131
that she had no rest night or day. She laid this upon one of
the neighboring women, whom she pointed out by name! Her
neighbors attended her, and was often present when she threw
up the pins, knots of hair, and other unaccountable substances.
The matter ran onn for several weeks, during which she
contrived to inspire a large portion of the neighbors with the
belief that she was actually bewitched. Even respectable
physicians were imposed upon, and were ready, and actually
did testify that she was afflicted with some supernatural disease,
over which medicine had no controul. Finally, they
carried on the farce so far, as to have the supposed witch
apprehended and brought before the magistrate, and hundreds
(likewise bewitched) attended to hear the trial. But the magistrate
happened not to be bewitched, and the woman, producing
proof of a fair character, was acquitted. The patient now
became worse than ever, and the neighbors said it was a shame
that the witch should have been acquitted; and the whole
neighborhood seemed to combine in a dangerous conspiracy,
and the phrenzy of witchcraft at length alarmed the thinking
part of the comunity, and three or four gentlemen took
horses and rode to the house of the bewitched, with a view of
putting an end to the cheat. It appeared that the husband of
the bewitched woman, had traded for a barrel of brandy, to
speculate on, and this barrel was in the house where the woman
lay. The gentlemen having made this discovery, together
with certain symptoms of the afflicted woman, kept a close
watch, and at length discovered the real witch, which was the
brandy barrel, having detected the lady drawing the brandy.
They immediately made this known, and told the husband
(who was deeply concerned for his wife) to send the barrel of
brandy away, and his wife would soon be well. The neighbors
now turned against the woman, and the husband of the
lady who was persecuted, brought an action for slander, and
finally, the bewitched lady, and her worse bewitched husband,
became so obnoxious, they were compelled to leave the country.
So much for ignorance.

Letter XLIII.

I am fertile in anecdotes, and I send you the following,
not quite three days old: Three evenings since, as I stood in
our door, a genteel looking man rode up, and dismounting,
asked “if he could be entertained?” I replied in the affirmative:
he passed by me into the house, as though he felt little
concern for my reply. I still remained in the door, and Mr.
Burlison, who had been at his plantation, appeared, walking
slowly towards the door, with his eyes fixed on the stranger’s
horse; and when he came up, slapped his hands on it and said,
“this is my horse; who rode it?” I replied, a stranger. He
stepped in the house, and I turned from the door at the same
time to look at the gentleman, who had taken a seat, and found
him smiling at Mr. Burlison, as he heard him claim the horse.
This was a mere joke, it appeared, got up for amusement, between
the stranger and a nephew of the Captain’s, who had
also arrived from East Tennessee. Mr. Burlison had loaned
the horse to his nephew some time back, to ride home to Tennessee;
and when they arrived in Moulton, the young man
stopped up in town, with the stranger’s horse, and sent the
stranger forward with the borrowed horse. As it turned out,
however, it was quite a flat joke, and is merely referred to as
a preface to something more interesting.

The gentleman, like all those who visit the country, was
endless in his praises, and entertained us until a late hour with
his travels, and the incidents of the journey, which was several
hundred miles, namely, from Salem, Virginia—though he
was now, he said, near the end of his journey—but never
dropped a hint of his business. Thus the evening passed away,
and every one was pleased with the stranger, and all seemed anxious
to know his business in this part of the country; and no one,
for a wonder, asked his name. He was well dressed; by no
means foppish; rather spare, and rode a first rate horse, followed
by another equally valuable. Some of us thought, most
of us, indeed, were certain, he came to purchase land, as nothing 17(3)r 133
else brings people to this country. Not a syllable of purchasing,
or a word, on the object of his journey escaped him.
This was provoking, particularly to us females.

The stranger retired to his bed, and next morning chatted
till after breakfast, and seemed in no hurry to leave the house,
and we concluded he was going to spend the day with us. We
retired to dress and was absent some time; when returning to
the parlor, we found the gentleman still sitting there, familiarly
engaged in conversation, and seemed to win much upon
the respect and esteem of the company. At length, about 10
o’clock, he took out his pocket book, and taking a paper from
thence, asked Mr. Burlison how far it was to a Mr. King’s.
As there are several of that name, the question remained unanswered,
until he, the stranger, named the distance he lived
from a particular Mill, which was down, as the river runs,
about seven miles distant from Moulton. This being ascertained,
the stranger sat musing sometime with the paper in his
hand, and his eyes bent on the floor, absorbed in thought.—
At length, he said, “I have a sister at this Mr. King’s, if she
still be living!” We women held our breath, and a painful
silence reigned throughout the company. The stranger, after
a pause, during which he labored under strong emotions, proceeded:
“I am full of hopes and fears, respecting my sister.—
She wrote to us six months since, but her letter never reached
us until about a few hours before I sat out on this journey, and
I have not seen her for nearly four years.” As I lived in the
same county some years, from which he was, though unacquainted
with the family, I became rather more interested than
the company, and inquired, “by what means his sister happened
to be so far from her friends?” He replied, “it was a
long and rather a melancholy story, but he would relate it as
briefly as possible. About four years ago, a French Doctor,
as he called himself, came to our town and spent several months.
During the time, he called often at my father’s, and before we
were aware, he succeeded in gaining the affections of one of
my sisters, and made proposals of marriage. This was opposed
by all the family, as the man was a total stranger,
and was forbid the house, and my sister forbid his company 17(3)v 134
—here we thought the matter at an end. Meanwhile
my younger brother and him meeting by accident, quarrelled
and fought a duel. During the time, however, he procured
letters from New York, and Philadelphia, from various
persons, whether genuine or forged, I do not know; but
these letters represented him to be a man of the highest respectability,
and a man of fortune, which lay principally in
the Spanish dominions, near Pensacola. He contrived to
have these letters shown to my father; but it had no effect;
and the matter seemed (as we thought) to have died away.
But my sister, whom it appears, kept up a correspondence
with him, declared she would never be happy if she did not
marry Doctor Gennee, and that she would have him if she
were forced to run away with him. Thus she teased us all,
night and day, and finally prevailed, though against the
wishes of every friend she had. The Doctor, after his marriage,
was anxious to go on to his possessions in Florida; and
to induce him to treat my sister well, my father gave him 1000
dollars in cash, and bought a first rate wagon, entirely new,
filled it with every species of best furniture, for house keeping,
put a fine team of horses in it, with a slave to drive it, and
with a saddle horse for my sister. They took leave, and we
heard no more of them, till we received a letter from my sister
dated about six months since, which filled us with astonishment
and distress. I have the letter here now,” he added, “and
will read it.” It was a long letter, and the young man was
so overpowered by his feelings, that he was forced to pause
several times, often the tear stealing down his cheek. The
amount of the letter was:—That they arrived in safety in
Florida; but her husband had no property there, and left her often
without money to help herself, and went off she could not tell
where, a long time; that he was very cross and ill natured to
her from the time she left her father’s, and at last he sold every
thing they had, and went off no one knew wither, leaving
her without one cent in the world, or a particle of property.
She was ashamed to apprize her father and brothers, as they
had opposed her marriage; that she struggled to sustain life,
though at the same time she prayed for death. At length, 17(4)r 135
growing calm, she thought of returning to her friends, if she
had to beg her way, which she would certainly have to do.—
Finally, her wrongs and her sufferings excited the compassion
of some humane individuals, who furnished her with a pony,
and a few dollars. She set forward alone, steering towards
Nashville, pursuing Coffee’s Trace. This was an appaling undertaking
for a female, through an uninhabited country of
swamps and cane-breaks. She often lost her way, and wandered
about for days and for nights without food, and often
without water. At length she gave out, and could travel no
farther. She had been for some time aiming to reach a settlement,
she had had in view from the first, and intended to stop
there and write to her friends. This is the settlement (principally
religious people) where she now is. The first house she
called at, the people refused even to let her come in, much
less would they give her food to eat. What are you travelling
alone for? It is a bad sign—you must be a bad woman. She
went to another, and another house, but was turned away from
all, with more than brutal cruelty. She now lost all hope, and
sat down on the road side! While she was sitting there, this
Mr. King was passing by, and telling him her story, he took
her to his house and treated her with great kindness. In a
few days she wrote the letter mentioned, but by some means it
did not reach its destination for six months.

The letter contained a pathetic appeal to her father and
brothers for forgiveness, and if they thought her worthy to be
received into the family again, to send for her; if not, she would
remain with her kind friend.

Shortly after the letter arrived, this young man, who kept
a Latin School in the neighborhood, came home, and his father
requested him to get ready and go for her as quick as
possible.

After relating the story, he ordered his horses, and set
out; and this day (the 2d) he passed by here, about one o’clock,
P. M., with his sister, a very fine looking woman; but they
were in a great hurry, and we only saw her on horseback.—
While they were yet in sight, some of the neighbors of Mr.
King, who were at the house when the brother called, and 17(4)v 136
who had rode up with them part of the way, stopped at our
house, and related a most pathetic scene between the brother
and sister. They flew into each others arms, and were for
many minutes unable to speak. The sister at length burst into
a flood of tears, and the brother likewise wept. But this was
a trifle to the scene that followed. This lady had never been
taught to work, and by way of amusement, she had induced
Mrs. King to teach her how to work, such as spinning, carding,
&c. She soon became very expert, and by way of remunerating
her friends for their kindness in saving her life, worked
late and early, thinking she could never do enough for them.
But when the people who had turned her out of doors found
she was a decent woman, and was industrious, they had the
effrontry to come to King’s to seduce her away. “His house,
(being a poor man) was not fit for her to stay at; come to our
house,” was their language. The lady refused their invitation
with disdain, and remained with her friends; and so strong
was her attachment to Mrs. King, and Mrs. King for her, that
when they came to take leave, it was difficult to tear them
asunder. Thus ends the story.

What think you, Matt, of the christian religion? Between
you and I, and the bed post, I begin to think it is all a
plot of the priests. I have ever marked those professors,
whenever humanity demanded their attention, the veriest
savages under the sun. Now, this King made no pretensions
to religion, and though this is, as you say, a Jay’s treaty, I
must add another instance of their brutality—it happened when
I was very young, and made an impression on me which I
shall never forget. A presbyterian Elder, (and to this day I
do not know the meaning of the word,) who prayed a long
prayer, night and morning, owned a ferry. A poor woman,
as I supposed then, (as she was on foot,) stopped at his door,
and inquired what the ferryage was, saying she wanted to
cross. She looked tired, hungry, miserable. The wretch
asked her how much money she had? She showed him some
in an old rag, and taking up a bit, I think it was, asked
him “if that was enough?”—“No.” She took a half bitOpen note a27-rota A small sum current in those days. 18(1)r 137
up, and holding them in her hand, asked “if that would do?”
He shook his head. She had but one more bit, which she said
was all she had. He would not touch it. She said, “I must
cross; for God’s sake take all, and put me over.” No; he turned
off and was going into the house. The woman wiped the
tears from her eyes with her sleeve, and pulling off a blue and
white checked handkerchief, which she wore round her neck,
called him back, and told him “she must cross the river if she
had to go without a handkerchief;” and the wretch took it and
the money too!!! One of these hypocrites told me once “I
ought not to judge all by one.” No! But I judge all by all, for
they are all the same.

This man lived on North river, Virginia.

Letter XLIV.

My old acquaintance, the Colonel, has moved from the
Bluff (or Marathon) to this place, which, though now a considerable
town, consisting of fine brick houses, was a cornfield
18 months ago, and the corn furrows are still visible in many
parts of the town. The Colonel, and all the citizens, however,
are much disappointed that they did not obtain the seat of
justice here; and the Colonel particularly takes it much to
heart, as he purchased lots under that view. But he is forced
to submit. “Courtland”, (you see they counted their chickens
before they were hatched) being eight miles from the river,
the boundary of the country, Courtland was too far from the
centre.

And the great beauty is married! At a few months over
14 years of age! She married a South Carolinian, by the
name of Daniel Wright, Esq. a very genteel, amiable man,
and clerk of the court. He was a member of the convention 18 18(1)v 138
that framed the Constitution for the state, and is a man of
princely manners. The lady had a considerable fortune, and
they will doubtless do well. So you have missed it again.

This is the region of the Carolina pink and Colomba root.
Wagon loads of the latter may be gathered any where in the
woods; it, and the pink, cover the ground. The pink grows
much like the garden pink, and the flower is similar in size
and figure, but is of a scarlet. I am sure I have seen it in
some part of the Union before, but cannot tell where. The
woods are alive with it here, and a profusion of other beautiful
flowers. It is quite a treat to ride through the woods. The
Colomba root has several broad leaves near the ground, in the
shape like the hound’s tongue, of a yellowish green—the leaf
thick and fuzzy—and a stem runs up from these from one to
two feet in height, without leaves, and has a flower near the
top—but it is not now in bloom.

The greatest curiosity here, is the sensitive brier. It is
in its nature, (but not in shape,) like the sensitive plant, though
with this difference, only that part of the plant shrinks which
you touch. For instance, if you touch one leaf, it draws up
instantly, but this does not affect the other leaves—not so the
brier: It grows like the raspberry brier, long, and still more
slender, with narrow leaves; if you touch the stem at one end,
the leaves instantly pucker themselves up from one end of the
brier to the other, the most astonishing phenomenon I have
witnessed in the vegetable kingdom. The brier grows spontaneously.
Those I saw were from one to five feet high, and
about the thickness of a wheat straw. The leaves are very
small, narrow, and notched, not larger than the smallest pink
leaf. I amused myself sometime in tormenting these little
whimsical rogues.

Since I have began with the curious, we have, another
great curiosity here, viz: the jointed snake, which, if struck
with a stick flies to pieces with a jingling noise. No blood is
emitted from the broken parts, and it is said the pieces unite
again. This I was told was a fact, though I did not see the
snake. The Camelion is also a native of this place. They
are found every where; but the prairies abound with them.— 18(2)r 139
They are called the Green Lizard, by the inhabitants.—
Mrs. Burlison informed me, that its general color was green,
but if provoked, it changed to a grayish color, and the throat,
which swells to a great size, when it is made angry, changes
to a pale crimson. I did not happen to see one, as you may
ride for days through the prairies without being able to distinguish
them from the grass, of which color they are. Speaking
of prairies—these prairies are too damp for cotton, but
corn grows well on them, and in the season for strawberries,
you may gather wagon loads of them; and these are a superior
flavor to any in our part of the country. You cannot
walk through a prairie in strawberry time, they take you up to
the ankle.

Another curiosity—Tobacco grows spontaneously in this
state! It grows in Madison county in the forest, and attains
the same height as when cultivated—but the leaves are thin,
and unfit for use. It is also found in West Tennessee. It was
found in Madison, by the first white people who visited the
country, nor can the oldest Indian account for its origin.—
Some think it is a native, and others, again, suppose it possible
the seed might have been scattered by some adventurous
traveller.

This, and the adjoining states, on the Mississippi, is beyond
doubt to become the wealthiest part of the United States.
In fact, it is so now. The inhabitants of this state, however,
not contented with the overflowing productions of their thrice
happy soil, have vainly attempted to introduce the sugar
cane—but, doubtless, it will fail. By covering the roots it
lives through the winter, and grows to a considerable height.
Though it is now in perfection of two year’s growth, the winters
are evidently too cold for the plant.

Upland rice grows here with success. It looks like oats,
is sown in drills, and plowed and hoed like corn. It is of a
reddish color when cooked. Every planter rears enough for
his own use.

I fell in with a traveller of intelligence, from whom I gathered
a few particulars of those new Southern States, and
taking the whole together, it is beyond doubt the most desirable 18(2)v 140
country on earth. The gentleman is from the Red River last:
His information amounts to the following:

He has been several years in that country, and assisted in
surveying and running the boundary lines, both of Mississippi
and Louisiana. “The lands (he says) on the Mississippi, on both
sides, far exceeds this in fertility, and producing two thousand
weight of cotton to the acre: whereas fifteen hundred is the most
that is calculated on here. Indigo, tobacco, and rice grow there
in great abundance. Indian corn grows with such rapidity, that
two crops can be raised in one year, below thirty two or thirty
one degrees of North latitude. From one to two hundred
bushels of Indian corn are produced to the acre. Sugar and
oranges grow in the same latitude, but neither will grow to
any degree of perfection above thirty-two. Cotton and sugar
are the staples of Louisiana and Mississippi; and people amass
great wealth there in a short time, from the culture of those
articles. Even poor men, that go there, and attend to large
stocks of cattle that run on great natural meadows, which
abound in Louisiana, for which they get a certain part, soon
become rich. Sugar is cultivated by laying the stalks in furrows
once in three years, and from the joints new stems
arise.”

“The best cotton grows on Red River. All, who have
visited that country, agree on this point. The stalks grow to
such thickness and strength there, that they are strong enough
to bear a man’s weight.” [I have heard this asserted by many.]
“Red River falls into the Mississippi from the West side below
Natchez, in about the thirty-first degree of latitude. Beyond
Louisiana, that is, west of it, there is another vast region equally
as productive, and almost without inhabitants: I mean
Texas—though it belongs to the Spanish government.—The
Spaniard offer a considerable bounty in land to all persons,
who will go and settle it. The Southern part of Louisiana
extends from the East side of the Mississippi river, which
bounds it East, to the Saline river, which bounds it on the
West, and divides it from Texas. There is no difference in
the soil or productions of the states of Louisiana and Mississippi;
but the former is more liable to be everflowed by the 18(3)r 141
rivers that flow through the former, and much more of it is
covered with swamps—but there is enough to reward industry
and enterprise, exclusive of the swamps.”