Chapter VIII: Part 8

The road, for the first twenty-five miles, runs very near the River Delaware, which appears to great advantage through openings in the woods that are scattered along its shores. From the town of Bristol in particular, which stands on an elevated part of the banks, twenty miles above Philadelphia, it is seen in a most pleasing point of view. The river, here about one mile wide, winds majestically round the point whereon the town is built, and for many miles, both upwards and downwards, it may be traced through a rich country, flowing gently along: in general it is covered with innumerable little sloops and schooners. Opposite to Bristol stands the city of Burlington, one of the largest in New Jersey, built partly upon an island and partly on the main shore. It makes a good appearance, and adds considerably to the beauty of the prospect from Bristol.

Ten miles farther on, opposite to Trenton, which stands at the head of the sloop navigation, you cross the river. The falls or rapids, that prevent boats from ascending any higher, appear in full view as you pass, but their prospect is in no way pleasing; beyond them, the navigation may be pursued for upwards of one hundred miles in small boats. Trenton is the capital of New Jersey, and contains about two hundred houses, together with four churches. The streets are commodious, and the houses neatly built. The state house, in which congress met for some time during the war, is a heavy clumsy edifice.

[Sidenote: PRINCETON.]

Twelve miles from Trenton, stands Princeton, a neat town, containing about eighty dwellings in one long street. Here is a large college, held in much repute by the neighbouring states. The number of students amounts to upwards of seventy; from their appearance, however, and the course of studies they seem to be engaged in, like all the other American colleges I ever saw, it better deserves the title of a grammar school than a college. The library, which we were shewn, is most wretched, consisting, for the most part, of old theological books, not even arranged with any regularity. An orrery, contrived by Mr. Rittenhouse, whose talents are so much boasted of by his countrymen, stands at one end of the apartment, but it is quite out of repair, as well as a few detached parts of a philosophical apparatus, enclosed in the same glass case. At the opposite end of the room are two small cupboards, which are shewn as the museum. These contain a couple of small stuffed alligators, and a few singular fishes, in a miserable state of preservation, the skins of them being tattered in innumerable places, from their being repeatedly tossed about. The building is very plain, and of stone; it is one hundred and eighty feet in front, and four stories high.

[Sidenote: NEW JERSEY.]

The next stage from Princeton is Brunswick, containing about two hundred houses; there is nothing very deserving of attention in it, excepting it be the very neat and commodious wooden bridge that has been thrown across the Raritan River, which is about two hundred paces over. The part over the channel is contrived to draw up, and on each side is a footway guarded by rails, and ornamented with lamps. Elizabeth Town and Newark, which you afterwards pass through in succession, are both of them cheerful lively looking places: neither of them is paved. Newark is built in a straggling manner, and has very much the appearance of a large English village: there is agreeable society in this town. These two towns are only eight miles apart, and each of them has one or two excellent churches, whose tall spires appear very beautiful as you approach at a distance, peeping up above the woods by which they are encircled.

The state of New Jersey, measured from north to south, is about one hundred and sixty miles in length; it varies in breadth from forty to eighty miles. The northern part of it is crossed by the blue ridge of mountains, running through Pennsylvania; and shooting off in different directions from this ridge, there are several other small mountains in the neighbourhood. The southern part of the state, on the contrary, which lies towards the sea, is extremely flat and sandy; it is covered for miles together with pine trees alone, usually called pine barrens, and is very little cultivated. The middle part, which is crossed in going from Philadelphia to New York, abounds with extensive traits of good land; the soil varies, however, considerably, in some places being sandy, in others stoney, and in others consisting of a rich brown mould. This part of the state, as far as Newark, is on the whole well cultivated, and scattered about in different places are some excellent farm houses; a good deal of uncleared land, however, still remains. Beyond Newark the country is extremely flat and marshy. Between the town and the Posaick River there is one marsh, which alone extends upwards of twenty miles, and is about two miles wide where you pass over it. The road is here formed with large logs of wood laid close together, and on each side are ditches to keep it dry. This was the first place where we met with musquitoes, and they annoyed us not a little in passing. Towards the latter end of the summer Philadelphia is much infested with them; but they had not made their appearance when we left that city. The Posaik River runs close upon the borders of this marsh, and there is an excellent wooden bridge across it, somewhat similar to that at New Brunswick over the Raritan River. About fifteen miles above it there is a very remarkable fall in the river. The river, at the fall, is about forty yards wide, and flows with a gentle current till it comes within a few perches of the edge of the fall, when it suddenly precipitates itself, in one entire sheet, over a ledge of rocks of nearly eighty feet in perpendicular height; below, it runs on through a chasm, formed of immense rocks on each side; they are higher than the fall, and seem to have been once united together.

[Sidenote: COPPER MINE.]

In this neighbourhood there is a very rich copper mine: repeated attempts have been made to work it; but whether the price of labour be too great for such an undertaking, or the proprietors have not proceeded with judgment, certain it is, that they have always miscarried, and sustained very considerable losses thereby. This mine was first discovered in 1751, by a person who, passing along about three o’clock in the morning, observed a blue flame, about the size of a man, issuing from the earth, which afterwards soon died away: he marked the place with a stake, and when the hill was opened, several large lumps of virgin copper were found. The vein of copper in the mine is said to be much richer now than when first opened.

From the Posaik to the North River the country is hilly, barren, and uninteresting, till you come very near the latter, when a noble view opens all at once of the city of New York on the opposite shore, of the harbour, and shipping. The river, which is very grand, can be traced for several miles above the city; the banks are very steep on the Jersey side, and beautifully wooded, the trees almost dipping into the water: numbers of vessels plying about in every part render the scene extremely sprightly and interesting.

[Sidenote: NEW YORK.]

New York is built on an island of its own name, formed by the North and the East Rivers, and a creek or inlet connecting both of these together. The island is fourteen miles long, and, on an average, about one mile in breadth; at its southern extremity stands the city, which extends from one river to the other. The North, or Hudson River, is nearly two miles wide; the East, or the North-east one, as it should rather be called, is not quite so broad. The depth of water in each, close to the city, is sufficient for the largest merchant vessels. The principal seat of trade, however, is on the East River, and most of the vessels lie there, as during winter the navigation of that river is not so soon impeded by the ice. At this side of the town the houses and stores are built as closely as possible. The streets are narrow and inconvenient, and, as but too commonly is the case in sea-port towns, very dirty, and, consequently, during the summer season, dreadfully unhealthy. It was in this part of the town that the yellow fever raged with such violence in 1795; and during 1796, many persons that remained very constantly there also fell victims to a fever, which, if not the yellow fever, was very like it. The streets near the North River are much more airy; but the most agreeable part of the town is in the neighbourhood of the battery, on the southern point of the island, at the confluence of the two rivers. When New York was in possession of the English, this battery consisted of two or more tiers of guns, one above the other; but it is now cut down, and affords a most charming walk, and, on a summer’s evening, is crowded with people, as it is open to the breezes from the sea, which render it particularly agreeable at that season. There is a fine view from it of the roads, Long and Staten Islands, and Jersey shore. At the time of high water the scene is always interesting on account of the number of vessels sailing in and out of port; such as go into the East River pass within a few yards of the walls of the battery.

From the battery a handsome street, about seventy feet wide, called Broadway, runs due north through the town; between it and the North River run several streets at right angles, as you pass which you catch a view of the water, and boats plying up and down; the distant shore of the river also is seen to great advantage. Had the streets on the opposite side of Broadway been also carried down to the East River, the effect would have been beautiful, for Broadway runs along a ridge or high ground between the two rivers; it would have contributed also very much to the health of the place; if, added to this, a spacious quay had been formed the entire length of the city, on either side, instead of having the borders of the rivers crowded with confused heaps of wooden store houses, built upon wharfs projecting one beyond another in every direction, New York would have been one of the most beautiful sea-ports in the world. All the sea-ports in America appear to great disadvantage from the water, when you approach near to them, from the shores being crowded in this manner with irregular masses of wooden houses, standing as it were in the water. The federal city, where they have already begun to erect the same kind of wooden wharfs and storehouses without any regularity, will be just the same. It is astonishing, that in laying out that city a grand quay was not thought of in the plan; it would certainly have afforded equal, if not greater accommodation for the shipping, and it would have added wonderfully to the embellishment of the city.

Many of the private houses in New York are very good, particularly those in Broadway. Of the public buildings there are none which are very striking. The churches and houses for public worship amount to no less than twenty-two; four of them are for Presbyterians, three for Episcopalians of the church of England, three for Dutch Reformists, two for German Lutherans and Calvinists, two for Quakers, two for Baptists, two for Methodists, one for French Protestants, one for Moravians, one for Roman Catholics, and one for Jews.

[Sidenote: INHABITANTS.]

According to the census in 1790, the number of inhabitants in New York was found to be thirty thousand one hundred and forty-eight free persons, and two thousand one hundred and eighty slaves; but at present the number is supposed to amount at least to forty thousand. The inhabitants have long been distinguished above those of all the other towns in the United States, except it be the people of Charleston, for their politeness, gaiety, and hospitality; and, indeed, in these points they are most strikingly superior to the inhabitants of the other large towns. Their public amusements consist in dancing and card assemblies, and theatrical exhibitions; for the former a spacious suite of rooms has lately been, erected. The theatre is of wood, and a most miserable edifice it is; but a new one is now building on a grand scale, which, it is thought, will be as much too large for the town as the other is too small.

[Sidenote: PASSAGE TO ALBANY.]

Being anxious to proceed on our journey before the season was too far advanced, and also particularly desirous of quitting New York on account of the fevers, which, it was rumoured, were increasing very fast, we took our passage for Albany in one of the sloops trading constantly on the North River, between New York and that place, and embarked on the second day of July, about two o’clock in the afternoon. Scarcely a breath of air was stirring at the time; but the tide carried us up at the rate of about two miles and a half an hour. The sky remained all day as serene as possible, and as the water was perfectly smooth, it reflected in a most beautiful manner the images of the various objects on the shore, and of the numerous vessels dispersed along the river at different distances, and which seemed to glide along, as it were, by the power of magic, for the sails, all hung down loose and motionless. The sun, setting in all his glory, added fresh beauties to this calm and peaceable scene, and permitted us for the last time to behold the distant spires of New York, illumined by his parting rays. To describe all the grand and beautiful prospects presented to the view on passing along this noble river, would be an endless talk; all the various effects that can be supposed to arise from a happy combination of wood and water, of hill and dale, are here seen in the greatest perfection. In some places the river expands to the breadth of five or six miles, in others it narrows to that of a few hundred yards, and in various parts it is interspersed with islands; in some places again its course can be traced as far as the eye can reach, whilst in others it is suddenly lost to the view, as it winds between its lofty banks; here mountains covered with rocks and trees rise almost perpendicularly out of the water; there a fine champaign country presents itself, cultivated to the very margin of the river, whilst neat farm houses and distant towns embellish the charming landscapes.

VIEW _on the_ HUDSON RIVER
]

After sunset, a brisk wind sprang up, which carried us on at the rate of six or seven miles an hour for a considerable part of the night; but for some hours we had to lie at anchor at a place where the navigation of the river was too difficult to proceed in the dark. Our sloop was no more than seventy tons burthen by register; but the accommodations she afforded were most excellent, and far superior to what might be expected on board so small a vessel; the cabin was equally large with that in a common merchant vessel of three hundred tons, built for crossing the ocean. This was owing to the great breadth of her beam, which was no less than twenty-two feet and a half although her length was only fifty-five feet. All the sloops engaged in this trade are built nearly on the same construction; short, broad, and very shallow, few of them draw more than five or six feet water, so that they are only calculated for sailing upon smooth water.

Early the next morning we found ourselves opposite to West Point, a place rendered remarkable in history by the desertion of General Arnold, during the American war, and the consequent death of the unfortunate Major André. The fort stands about one hundred and fifty feet above the level of the water, on the side of a barren hill; no human creature appearing in it except the solitary sentinel, who marched backwards and forwards on the ramparts overgrown with long grass, it had a most melancholy aspect that perhaps was heightened by the gloominess of the morning, and the recollection of all the circumstances attending the unhappy fate of poor André.

Near West Point there is also another post, called Fort Putnam, which, since the peace, has been suffered to get very much out of repair; however, steps are now taking to have it put in good order. Supposing that a rupture should ever unfortunately again take place between Great Britain and the United States of America, these posts would be of the greatest consequence, as they form a link in that chain of posts which extend the whole way along the navigable waters that connect the British settlements with New York.

[Sidenote: ALBANY.]

In this neighbourhood the highlands, as they are called, commence, and extend along the river on each side for several miles. The breadth of the river is here considerably contracted, and such sudden gusts of wind, coming from between the mountains, sometimes blow through the narrow passes, that vessels frequently have their topmasts carried away. The captain of the sloop we were in, said, that his mainsail was once blown into tatters in an instant, and a part of it carried on shore. When the sky is lowering, they usually take in sail going along this part of the river.

About four o’clock in the morning of the fourth of July we reached Albany, the place of our destination, one hundred and sixty miles distant from New York.

Albany is a city, and contains about eleven hundred houses; the number however is increasing fast, particularly since the removal of the state government from New York. In the old part of the town the streets are very narrow and the houses are frightful; they are all built in the old Dutch taste, with the gable end towards the street, and ornamented on the top with large iron weather cocks; but in that part which has been lately erected, the streets are commodious, and many of the houses are handsome. Great pains have been taken to have the streets well paved and lighted. Here are four places for public worship, and an hospital. Albany is in summer time a very disagreeable place; it stands in a low situation, just on the margin of the river, which runs very slowly here, and towards the evening often exhales clouds of vapours; immediately behind the town, likewise, is a large sand bank, that prevents a free circulation of air, while at the same time it powerfully reflects the rays of the sun, which shines in full force upon it the whole day. Notwithstanding all this, however, the climate is deemed very salubrious.

The inhabitants of this place, a few years ago, were almost entirely of Dutch extraction; but now strangers are flocking to it from all quarters, as there are few places in America more advantageously situated for commerce. The flourishing state of its trade has already been mentioned; it bids fair to rival that of New York in process of time.

[Sidenote: ALBANY.]

The fourth of July, the day of our arrival at Albany, was the anniversary of the declaration of American independence, and on our arrival we were told that great preparations were making for its celebration[26]. A drum and trumpet, towards the middle of the day, gave notice of the commencement of the rejoicings, and on walking to a hill about a quarter of a mile from the town, we saw sixty men drawn up, partly militia, partly volunteers, partly infantry, partly cavalry; the latter were clothed in scarlet, and mounted on horses of various descriptions. About three hundred spectators attended. A few rounds were fired from a three pounder, and some volleys of small arms. The firing was finished before one hour was expired, and then the troops returned to town, a party of militia officers in uniform marching in the rear, under the shade of umbrellas, as the day was excessively hot. Having reached town, the whole body immediately dispersed. The volunteers and militia officers afterwards dined together, and so ended the rejoicings of the day; no public ball, no general entertainment was there of any description. A day still fresh in the memory of every American, and which appears so glorious in the annals of their country, would, it might be expected, have called forth more brilliant and more general rejoicings; but the downright phlegmatic people in this neighbourhood, intent upon making money, and enjoying the solid advantages of the revolution, are but little disposed to waste their time in what they consider idle demonstrations of joy.

Footnote 26:

Our landlord, as soon as he found out who we were, immediately came to
us, to request that we would excuse the confused state in which his
house was, as this was the anniversary day of “American Independence,”
or, as some, indeed, more properly called it, of “American
Repentance.” We were all of us not a little surprised at this address,
and from such a person; instances, however, are not wanting of people
openly declaring, that they have never enjoyed so much quiet and
happiness in their own homes since the revolution as they did when the
states were the colonies of Great Britain. Amongst the planters in
Virginia I heard language of this sort more than once.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

+LETTER + XX.

_Departure from Albany.—Difficulty of hiring a Carriage.—Arrival
at Cohoz.—Description of the curious Fall there of the
Mohawk River.—Still-water.—Saratoga.—Few of the Works
remaining there.—Singular Mineral Springs near Saratoga.—Fort
Edward.—Miss M‘Crea cruelly murdered there by Indians.—Fort Ann,
wretched Road thither.—Some Observations on the American
Woods.—Horses jaded.—Difficulty of getting forward.—Arrive at
Skenesborough.—Dreadfully infested by Musquitoes.—Particular
Description of that Insect.—Great Danger ensues sometimes from their
Bite.—Best Remedy._

VIEW _of the_ COHOZ FALL.
]

MY DEAR SIR, Skenesborough, July.

[Sidenote: COHOZ FALL.]

WE remained in Albany for a few days, and then set off for Skenesborough, upon Lake Champlain, in a carriage hired for the purpose. The hiring of this vehicle was a matter attended with some trouble, and detained us longer in the town than we wished to stay. There were only two carriages to be had in the whole place, and the owners having an understanding with each other, and thinking that we should be forced to give whatever price they asked, positively refused to let us have either of them for less than seventy dollars, equal to fifteen guineas. We on our part as positively refused to comply with a demand which we knew to be exorbitant, and resolved to wait patiently in Albany for some other conveyance, rather than submit to such an imposition. The fellows held out for two days, but at the end of that time one of them came to tell us we might have his carriage for half the price, and accordingly we took it.

Early the next morning we set off, and in about two hours arrived at the small village of Cohoz, close to which is the remarkable fall in the Mohawk River. This river takes its rise to the north-east of Lake Oneida, and after a course of one hundred and forty miles, disembogues into the Hudson or North River, about ten miles above Albany. The Cohoz Fall is about three miles distant from its mouth. The breadth of the river is three hundred yards; a ledge of rocks extends quite across, and from the top of them the water falls about fifty feet perpendicular; the line of the fall from one side of the river to the other is nearly straight. The appearance of this fall varies very much, according to the quantity of water; when the river is full, the water descends in an unbroken sheet from one bank to the other, whilst at other times the greater part of the rocks are left uncovered. The rocks are of a remarkable dark colour, and so also is the earth in the banks, which rise to a great height on either side. There is a very pleasing view of this cataract as you pass over the bridge across the river, about three quarters of a mile lower down.

From hence we proceeded along the banks of the Hudson River, through the town of Still-water, which receives its name from the uncommon stillness of the river opposite to it, and late in the evening reached Saratoga, thirty-five miles from Albany. This place contains about forty houses, and a Dutch reformed church, but they are so scattered about that it has not the smallest appearance of a town.

[Sidenote: SARATOGA.]

In this neighbourhood, upon the borders of a marsh, are several very remarkable mineral springs; one of them, in the crater of a rock, of a pyramidical form, about five feet in height, is particularly curious. This rock seems to have been formed by the petrifaction of the water: all the other springs are likewise surrounded with petrifactions of the same kind. The water in the principal spring, except at the beginning of the summer, when it regularly overflows, remains about eight inches below the rim of the crater, and bubbles up as if boiling. The crater is nine inches in diameter. The various properties of the water have not been yet ascertained with any great accuracy; but it is said to be impregnated with a fossile acid and some saline substance; there is also a great portion of fixed air in it. An opportunity is here afforded for making some curious experiments.

If animals be put down into the crater, they will be immediately suffocated; but if not kept there too long they recover again upon being brought into the open air.

If a lighted candle be put down, the flame will be extinguished in an instant, and not even the smallest spark left in the wick.

If the water immediately taken from the spring be put into a bottle, closely corked, and then shaken, either the cork will be forced out with an explosion, or the bottle will be broken; but if lest in an open vessel it becomes vapid in less than half an hour. The water is very pungent to the taste, and acts as a cathartic on some people, as an emetic on others.

Of the works thrown up at Saratoga by the British and American armies during the war, there are now scarcely any remains. The country round about is well cultivated, and the trenches have been mostly levelled by the plough. We here crossed the Hudson River, and proceeded along its eastern shore as far as Fort Edward, where it is lost to the view, for the road still runs on towards the north, whilst the river takes a sudden bend to the west.

[Sidenote: FORT EDWARD.]

Fort Edward was dismantled prior to the late American war; but the opposite armies, during that unhappy contest, were both in the neighbourhood. Many of the people, whom we found living here, had served as soldiers in the army, and told us a number of interesting particulars relative to several events which happened in this quarter. The landlord of the tavern where we stopped, for one, related all the circumstances attending Miss M‘Crea’s death, and pointed out on a hill, not far from the house, the very spot where she was murdered by the Indians, and the place of her interment. This beautiful young lady had been engaged to an officer in General Burgoyne’s army, who, anxious for her safety, as there were several marauding parties going about in the neighbourhood where she lived, sent a party of trusty Indians to escort her to the camp. These Indians had partly executed their commission, and were approaching with their charge in sight of the British camp, when they were met by another set of Indians belonging to a different tribe, that was also attending the British army at this time. In a few minutes it became a matter of dispute between them which should have the honour of conducting her to the camp; from words they came to blows, and blood was on the point of being drawn, when one of their chiefs, to settle the matter without farther mischief, went up to Miss M‘Crea, and killed her on the spot with a blow of his tomahawk. The object of contention being thus removed, the Indians returned quietly to the camp. The enormity of the crime, however, was too great not to attract public notice, and it turned the minds of every person against the Indians, who had not before witnessed their ferocity on occasions equally shocking to humanity. The impolicy of employing such barbarians was now strongly reprobated, and in a short time afterwards most of them were dismissed from our army.

[Sidenote: WOODS.]

Fort Edward stands near the river. The town of the same name, is at the distance of one or two hundred yards from it, and contains about twenty houses. Thus far we had got on tolerably well; but from hence to Fort Anne, which was also dismantled prior to the late war, the road is most wretched, particularly over a long causeway between the two forts, formed originally for the transporting of cannon, the soil here being extremely moist and heavy. The causeway consists of large trees laid side by side transversely, some of which having decayed, great intervals are left, wherein the wheels of the carriage were sometimes locked so fast that the horses alone could not possibly extricate them. To have remained in the carriage over this part of the road would really have been a severe punishment; for although boasted of as being the very best in Albany, it had no sort of springs, and was in fact little better than a common waggon; we therefore alighted, took our guns, and amused ourselves with shooting as we walked along through the woods. The woods here had a much more majestic appearance than any that we had before met with on our way from Philadelphia; this, however, was owing more to the great height than to the thickness of the trees, for I could not see one that appeared more than thirty inches in diameter; indeed, in general, the girt of the trees in the woods of America is but very small in proportion to their height, and trifling in comparison of that of the forest trees in Great Britain. The thickest tree I ever saw in the country was a sycamore, which grew upon the banks of the Shenandoah River, just at its junction with the Patowmac, in a bed of rich earth, close to the water; yet this tree was no more than about four feet four inches in diameter. On the low grounds in Kentucky, and on some of the bottoms in the western territory, it is said that trees are commonly to be met with seven and eight feet in diameter. Where this is the case, the trees must certainly grow much farther apart than they do in the woods in the middle states, towards the Atlantic, for there they spring up so very close to each other, that it is absolutely impossible for them to attain to a great diameter.

The woods here were composed chiefly of oaks[27], hiccory, hemlock, and beech trees, intermixed with which, appeared great numbers of the smooth bark or Weymouth pines, as they are called, that seem almost peculiar to this part of the country. A profusion of wild raspberries were growing in the woods here, really of a very good flavour: they are commonly found in the woods to the northward of this; in Canada they abound every where.

Footnote 27:

There are upwards of twenty different kinds of oaks in America.

[Sidenote: SKENESBOROUGH.]

Beyond Fort Anne, which is situated at the distance of eight miles from Fort Edward, the roads being better, we once more mounted into our vehicle; but the miserable horses, quite jaded, now made a dead stop; in vain the driver bawled, and stamped, and swore; his whip had been previously worn out some hours, owing to the frequent use he had made of it, and the animals no longer feeling its heavy lash, seemed as determined as the mules of the abbess of Andouillets to go no farther. In this situation we could not help bantering the fellow upon the excellence of his cattle, which he had boasted so much of at setting out, and he was ready to cry with vexation at what we said; but having accidentally mentioned the sum we had paid for the carriage, his passion could no longer be restrained, and it broke forth in all its fury. It appeared that he was the owner of two of the horses, and for the use of them, and for driving the carriage, was to have had one half of the hire; but the man whom we had agreed with, and paid at Albany, had given him only ten dollars as his moiety, assuring him, at the same time, that it was exactly the half of what we had given, although in reality it fell short of the sum by seven dollars and a half. Thus cheated by his companion, and left in the lurch by his horses, he vowed vengeance against him on his return; but as protestations of this nature would not bring us any sooner to our journey’s end, and as it was necessary that something should be immediately done, if we did not wish to remain all night in the woods, we suggested the idea, in the mean time, of his conducting the foremost horses as postillion, whilst one of our servants should drive the pair next to the wheel. This plan was not started with any degree of seriousness, for we could not have supposed that a tall meagre fellow, upwards of six feet high, and clad in a pair of thin nankeen breeches, would very readily bestride the raw boned back of a horse, covered with the profuse exudations which the intense heat of the weather, and the labour the animal had gone through, necessarily excited. As much tired, however, of our pleasantries as we were of his vehicle, and thinking of nothing, I believe, but how he could best get rid of us, he eagerly embraced the proposal, and accordingly, having furnished himself with a switch from the adjoining thicket, he mounted his harnessed Rosinante. In this style we proceeded; but more than once did our gigantic postillion turn round to bemoan the sorry choice he had made; as often did we urge the necessity of getting out of the woods; he could make no answer; so jogging slowly along, we at last reached the little town of Skenesborough, much to the amusement of every one who beheld our equipage, and much to our own satisfaction; for, owing to the various accidents we had met with, such as traces breaking, bridles slipping off the heads of the horses, and the noble horses themselves sometimes slipping down, &c. &c. we had been no less than five hours in travelling the last twelve miles.

[Sidenote: MUSQUITOES.]

Skenesborough stands just above the junction of Wood Creek with South River, as it is called in the best maps, but which, by the people in the neighbourhood, is considered as a part of Lake Champlain. At present there are only about twelve houses in the place; but if the navigation of Wood Creek is ever opened, so as to connect Lake Champlain with the North River, a scheme which has already been seriously thought of, it will, doubtless, soon become a trading town of considerable importance, as all the various productions of the shores of the lake will then be collected there for the New York and Albany markets. Notwithstanding all the disadvantages of a land carriage of forty miles to the North River, a small portion of flour and potash, the staple commodities of the state of New York, is already sent to Skenesborough from different parts of the lake, to be forwarded to Albany. A considerable trade also is carried on through this place, and over Lake Champlain, between New York and Canada. Furs and horses principally are sent from Canada, and in return they get East Indian goods and various manufactures. Lake Champlain opens a very ready communication between New York and the country bordering on the St. Lawrence; it is emphatically called by the Indians, Caniad—Eri Guarunte, the mouth or door of the country.

[Sidenote: MUSQUITOES.]

Skenesborough is most dreadfully infested with musquitoes; so many of them attacked us the first night of our sleeping there, that when we arose in the morning our faces and hands were covered all over with large pustules, precisely like those of a person in the small pox. This happened too notwithstanding that the people of the house, before we went to bed, had taken all the pains possible to clear the room of them, by fumigating it with the smoke of green wood, and afterwards securing the windows with gauze blinds; and even on the second night, although we destroyed many dozens of them on the walls, after a similar fumigation had been made, yet we suffered nearly as much. These insects were of a much larger size than any I ever saw elsewhere, and their bite was uncommonly venomous. General Washington told me, that he never was so much annoyed by musquitoes in any part of America as in Skenesborough, for that they used to bite through the thickest boot. The situation of the place is indeed peculiarly favourable for them, being just on the margin of a piece of water, almost stagnant, and shaded with thick woods. The musquito is of the same species with the common gnat in England, and resembles it very closely both in size and shape. Like the gnat it lays its eggs on the surface of the water, where they are hatched in the course of a few days, unless the water is agitated, in which last case they are all destroyed. From the egg is produced a grub, which changes to a chrysalis, and afterwards to a musquito; this last change takes place on the surface of the water, and if at the moment that the insect first spreads its wings the water is not perfectly still and the air calm, it will be inevitably destroyed; at those parts of the lake, therefore, which are most exposed, and where the water is often agitated, no such thing as a musquito is ever seen; neither are they ever found along a large and rapid river, where the shores are lofty and dry; but in the neighbourhood of marshes, low grounds, and stagnant waters, they always abound. Musquitoes appear to be particularly fond of the fresh blood of Europeans, who always suffer much more the first year of their arrival in America than they do afterwards. The people of the country seem quite to disregard their attacks. Wherever they fix their sting, a little tumor or pustule usually arises, supposed to be occasioned by the fermentation, when mixed with the blood, of a small quantity of liquor which the insect always injects into the wound it makes with its spicula, as may be seen through a microscope, and which it probably does to render the blood more fluid. The disagreeable itching this excites is most effectually allayed by the application of volatile alkali; or if the part newly stung be scratched and immediately bathed in cold water, that also affords considerable relief; but after the venom has been lodged for any time, scratching only increases the itching, and it may be attended with great danger. Repeated instances have occurred of people having been laid up for months, and narrowly escaping the loss of a limb, from imprudently rubbing a part which had been bitten for a long time. Great ease is also derived from opening the pustules on the second day with a lancet, and letting out the blood and watery matter.

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+LETTER + XXI.

_Embark on Lake Champlain.—Difficulty of procuring Provisions at Farms
bordering upon it.—Ticonderoga.—Crown Point.—Great Beauty of the
Scenery.—General Description of Lake Champlain and the adjacent
Country. Captain Thomas and his Indians arrive at Crown
Point.—Character of Thomas.—Reach St. John’s.—Description of that
Place.—Great Difference observable in the Face of the Country,
Inhabitants, &c. in Canada and in the States.—Chambly
Castle.—Calashes.—Bons Dieux.—Town of La Prarie.—Great Rapidity of the
River Saint Lawrence.—Cross it to Montreal.—Astonishment on seeing
large Ships at Montreal.—Great Depth of the River._

Montreal, July.

[Sidenote: LAKE CHAMPLAIN.]

SHORTLY after our arrival in Skenesborough, we hired a small boat of about ten tons for the purpose of crossing Lake Champlain. It was our wish to proceed on the voyage immediately; but the owner of the boat asserting that it was impossible to go out with the wind then blowing, we were for three days detained in Skenesborough, a delicious feast for the hungry musquitoes. The wind shifted again and again, still it was not fair in the opinion of our boatman. At last, being most heartily tired of our quarters, and suspecting that he did not understand his business as well as he ought to have done, we resolved not to abide by his opinion any longer, but to make an attempt at beating out; and we had great reason to be pleased with having done so, as we arrived in Canada three days before any of the other boats, that did not venture to move till the wind was quite aft.

We set off about one o’clock; but from the channel being very narrow, it was impossible to make much way by tacking. We got no farther than six miles before sun-set. We then stopped, and having landed, walked up to some farm houses, which appeared at a distance, on the Vermont shore, to procure provisions; for the boatman had told us it was quite unnecessary to take in any at Skenesborough, as there were excellent houses close to the shore the whole way, where we could get whatever we wished. At the first we went to, which was a comfortable log-house, neither bread, nor meat, nor milk, nor eggs, were to be had; the house was crowded with children of all ages, and the people, I suppose, thought they had but little enough for themselves. At a second house, we found a venerable old man at the door, reading a news-paper, who civilly offered it to us for our perusal, and began to talk upon the politics of the day; we thanked him for his offer, and gave him to understand, at the same time, that a loaf would be much more acceptable. Bread there was none; we got a new Vermont cheese, however. A third house now remained in sight, and we made a third attempt at procuring something to eat. This one was nearly half a mile off, but alas! it afforded still less than the last; the people had nothing to dispose of but a little milk. With the milk and the cheese, therefore, we returned to our boat, and adding thereto some biscuits and wine, which we had luckily on board, the whole afforded us a frugal repast.

[Sidenote: LAKE CHAMPLAIN.]

The people at the American farm houses will cheerfully lie three in a bed, rather than suffer a stranger to go away who comes to seek for a lodging. As all these houses, however, which we had visited, were crowded with inhabitants, we felt no great inclination to ask for accommodation at any of them, but determined to sleep on board our little vessel. We accordingly moored her at a convenient part of the shore, and each of us having wrapped himself up in a blanket, which we had been warned to provide on leaving New York, we laid ourselves down to sleep. The boat was decked two thirds of her length forward, and had a commodious hold; we gave the preference, however, because more airy, to the cabin or after part, fitted up with benches, and covered with a wooden awning, under which a man could just sit upright, provided he was not very tall. The benches, which went lengthwise, accommodated two of us; and the third was obliged to put up with the cabin floor; but a blanket and a bare board, out of the way of musquitoes, were luxuries after our accommodations at Skenesborough; our ears were not assailed by the noise even of a single one the whole night, and we enjoyed sounder repose than we had done for many nights preceding.

The wind remained nearly in the same point the next morning, but the lake being wider, we were enabled to proceed faster. We stopped at one house to breakfast, and at another to dine. At neither of these, although they bore the name of taverns, were we able to procure much more than at the houses where we had stopped the preceding evening. At the first we got a little milk, and about two pounds of bread, absolutely the whole of what was in the house; and at the second, a few eggs, and some cold salted fat pork; but not a morsel of bread was to be had. The wretched appearance also of this last habitation was very striking; it consisted of a wooden frame, merely with a few boards nailed against it, the crevices between which were the only apertures for the admission of light, except the door; and the roof was so leaky, that we were sprinkled with the rain even as we sat at the fire side. That people can live in such a manner, who have the necessaries and conveniencies of life within their reach, as much as any others in the world, is really most astonishing! It is, however, to be accounted for, by that desire of making money, which is the predominant feature in the character of the Americans in general, and leads the petty farmer in particular to suffer numberless inconveniencies, when he can gain by so doing. If he can sell the produce of his land to advantage, he keeps as small a part of it as possible for himself, and lives the whole year round upon salt provisions, bad bread, and the fish he can catch in the rivers or lakes in the neighbourhood; if he has built a comfortable house for himself, he readily quits it, as soon as finished, for money, and goes to live in a mere hovel in the woods till he gets time to build another. Money is his idol, and to procure it he gladly foregoes every self-gratification.

[Sidenote: TICONDEROGA.]

From this miserable habitation, just mentioned, we departed as soon as the rain was over, and the wind coming round in our favour, we got as far as Ticonderoga that night. The only dwelling here is the tavern, which is a large house built of stone. On entering it we were shewn into a spacious apartment, crowded with boatmen and people that had just arrived from St. John’s, in Canada. Seeing such a number of guests in the house, we expected nothing less than to be kept an hour or two till sufficient supper was prepared for the whole company, so that all might sit down at once together, which, as I have before said, is the custom in the country parts of the United States. Our surprise therefore was great at perceiving a neat table and a comfortable little supper speedily laid out for us, and no attempts made at serving the rest of the company till we had quite finished. This was departing from the system of equality in a manner which we had never witnessed before, and we were at a loss for some time to account for it; but we presently heard that the woman of the house had kept a tavern for the greater part of her life at Quebec, which resolved the knotty point. The wife is generally the active person in managing a country tavern, and the husband attends to his farm, or has some independent occupation. The man of this house was a judge, a sullen demure old gentleman, who sat by the fire[28], with tattered clothes and dishevelled locks, reading a book, totally regardless of every person in the room.

Footnote 28:

Though this was the 14th day of July, the weather was so cold that we
found a fire extremely agreeable.

The old fort and barracks of Ticonderoga are on the top of a rising ground, just behind the tavern; they are quite in ruins, and it is not likely that they will ever be rebuilt, for the situation is very insecure, being commanded by a lofty hill called Mount Defiance. The British got possession of the place the last war by dragging cannon and mortars up the hill, and firing down upon the fort.

Early the next morning we left Ticonderoga, and pursued our voyage to Crown Point, where we landed to look at the old fort. Nothing is to be seen there, however, but a heap of ruins; for shortly before it was given up by the British, the powder magazine blew up, by which accident a great part of the works was destroyed; since the evacuation of it also, the people in the neighbourhood have been continually digging in different parts, in hopes of procuring lead and iron shot; a considerable quantity was in one instance got out of the stores that had been buried by the explosion. The vaults, which were bomb proof, have been demolished for the sake of the bricks for building chimneys. At the south side alone the ditches remain perfect; they are wide and deep, and cut through immense rocks of limestone; and from being overgrown towards the top with different kinds of shrubs, have a grand and picturesque appearance. The view from this spot of the fort, and the old buildings in it overgrown with ivy, of the lake, and of the distant mountains beyond it, is indeed altogether very fine. The fort, and seven hundred acres of good cleared land adjoining to it, are the property of the state of New York, and are leased out at the rate of one hundred and fifty dollars, equal to £. 33. 10 _s._ sterling per annum, which is appropriated for the use of a college. The farmer who rented it told us, he principally made use of the land for grazing cattle; these, in the winter season, when the lake was frozen, he drove over the ice to Albany, and there disposed of.

[Sidenote: CROWN POINT.]

Crown Point is the most advantageous spot on the shores of Lake Champlain for a military post, not being commanded by any rising grounds in the neighbourhood, as Ticonderoga is, and as the lake is so narrow here, owing to another point running out on the opposite side, that it would be absolutely impossible for a vessel to pass, without being exposed to the fire of the fort. The Indians call this place Tek-ya-dough-nigarigee, that is, the two points immediately opposite to each other: the one opposite to Crown Point is called Chimney Point; upon it are a few houses, one of which is a tavern. While we staid there we were very agreeably surprised, for the first time, with the sight of a large birch canoe upon the lake, navigated by two or three Indians in the dresses of their nation. They made for the shore and soon landed; and shortly after another party, amounting to six or seven, arrived, that had come by land.

On board our little vessel we had a poor Canadian, whom we took in at Skenesborough. Tempted by the accounts he had heard of the United States, he quitted his own home in Canada, where he lived under one of the seigniors, and had gone as far as Albany, in the neighbourhood of which place he had worked for some time with a farmer; but finding, that although he got higher wages, he had to pay much more for his provisions than in Canada, and that he was also most egregiously cheated by the people, and particularly by his employer, from whom he could not get even the money he had earned; finding likewise that he was unable to procure any redress, from being ignorant of the English language, the poor fellow determined to return to Canada, and on his way thither we met him, without a shilling in his pocket.