Chapter II: Part 2

The most considerable place we passed was Reading, which has much the appearance of a second-rate country town in England. Viewed from the Sunbury road, by which I returned to it in my way back to Philadelphia, its situation, in a fine surrounding country, appears to much greater advantage. We passed no other place of note but Lebanon; in the vicinity of which is to be found some of the finest arable land in Pennsylvania. Harrisburg is delightfully situated on the Susquehanna. It was here for the first time I saw that beautiful river; in breadth about three quarters of a mile. Its clear and shallow stream is not really slow, but at a little distance it appears as tranquil and unruffled as the surface of a lake. Immediately opposite to Harrisburg is an island, from either side of which a long wooden bridge is thrown to the opposite bank of the river. Harrisburg is the capital of Pennsylvania, and is a thriving, neat and pretty-looking town, containing about four thousand inhabitants. The House of Assembly, or Capitol, as it is always called in America, is built on an eminence. The sittings of the senate and house of representatives of Pennsylvania were held first at Philadelphia, then at Lancaster, and subsequently for nearly the last twenty years at Harrisburg, which, from its central situation, has been found much more convenient. The chamber where the representatives hold their sittings is very large, with separate desks for every two or three members, disposed in a semicircle, in the same manner as in the French chamber of deputies. The chair in which the Speaker sits was filled by the celebrated patriot John Hancock, when he presided in the assembly, by the members of which the declaration of independence was signed in the state-house at Philadelphia. The senate and representatives had just finished their sittings, after having passed only two hundred and sixty-seven Acts. I saw a list of them. They chiefly related to internal improvements; and many of them made honourable provision for old soldiers, or the widows and families of old soldiers, who had served in the revolutionary war. An experiment, which would have been deemed serious in an older country, was on the eve of trial: an Act had been passed for levying a tax on personal property throughout the state. The bulk of the taxes had hitherto been paid by the land owners, and a new assessment made once every three years. The annual tax is at the rate of one, two, or three dollars the acre, according to the value of the land. The owner of personal property only, however, enjoyed an immunity, of which the present measure was intended to divest him, by making him pay a tax of one dollar in a thousand. Every individual will be obliged to swear to the amount of his personal property; and should he be supposed to swear falsely, an officer will be empowered to compel the production of any deed, bond, note, or bill, or of any writing being evidence of a debt owing to him. However, the general opinion seemed to be, that the graceless impost would be acquiesced in as one of fairness and necessity. On account of the enterprise of canals, railroads, and other improvements, the state debt of Pennsylvania is larger than that of any other of the Union, amounting to 14,463,161 dollars,—the debt of New York amounting to nearly 9,000,000 dollars. The individual State debts are very likely to be increased rather than diminished, in the end; but as no State debt has in any instance been increased except for the purposes of internal improvements, the augmentation of the debt will but add eventually to the prosperity and wealth of the State. Suppose any state, New York for instance, were to borrow 4,000,000 dollars for some public work, as a canal or rail-road, at a fixed rate of interest, and that the capital borrowed were to be reimbursable in the year 1850. Such a rate of tonnage would be levied on the canal or railroad as would, after payment of the interest, leave a sinking fund available for the redemption of the capital borrowed, and the State would be left in possession of a large tract of country rendered productive and valuable on account of the additional facility afforded for the carriage of produce to market. Once only since the formation of the constitution, and during the presidency of John Adams, has a direct and general property-tax been imposed by the federal government in time of peace.

The view from the dome of the capitol at Harrisburg is very fine; but a much better is obtained from the summit of a hill about a mile behind the town, although, perhaps, the town itself is not seen to such advantage. A great part of the surrounding country is very well cultivated; corn-fields, pasture, and woodlands, are distributed over hill and hollow; and occasionally here and there is perceived a small farm-house, of a neater and more English appearance than any I had yet seen. On every side the landscape is terminated as usual by a boundless forest. The Susquehanna seems to lose itself through a gap in the Blue Mountains; and throughout the whole of its course, which is visible for a great distance, its banks and beautiful islands are clothed with the richest foliage to the water’s edge. I proceeded along the north bank of the river towards Duncan’s Island, and after a ride of eight or nine miles, I arrived at the gap I have just mentioned. Its scenery forcibly reminded me of the Rhine at Drachenfells. The abrupt and lofty hill on the left is not surmounted by a “castled crag,” but it overhangs, perhaps, a nobler river, whose banks are covered with the forest trees of America, instead of being formally scarped for the culture of vines, trimmed like gooseberry bushes. At a short distance from the gap, the river is crossed by an enormous wooden bridge of eight arches, which is very nearly half a mile in length. The bridges in America are usually of wood, of admirable construction, neatly painted, and covered over like many of the bridges in Switzerland. The piers are of stone of great size, and buttressed towards the stream. This bridge is the largest of the kind I have seen any where.

In the garden of the inn, or tavern, as it is usually called, is an Indian tumulus, about fifteen feet in height, hemispherical in shape, and evidently once much higher. These tumuli are to be seen in various parts of Pennsylvania, and in fact, in all parts of America; often two are found at no great distance from one another. At Liverpool, in that state, are two of them, about three quarters of a mile apart; but one had been ploughed over by the Gothic proprietor of the soil. At first it is not difficult to infer from this, that a great battle had taken place in the vicinity, and that each party had adopted this place for the burial of the dead,—that universally, and eternally distinguishing characteristic between mankind and those of the brute creation that make the nearest approaches to humanity. Where, however, they are found singly, the researches of Mr. Jefferson and of others, induce us to believe that they were heaped together upon other occasions. In one which he opened, Mr. Jefferson conjectures that there might be as many as a thousand skeletons; and appearances indicated that it had derived its origin and enlargement from a custom of collecting the bones of the dead on the spot at different times. They were deposited in layers, but in the utmost confusion of relative position; the bones of the most distant parts of the body being crowded together. Those of infants and half-grown persons were found among them. These tumuli are sometimes composed of earth, and sometimes of loose stones, like the cairn and carnedd of Scotland and Wales.

The conjecture, that they were either raised over the dead in battle, or in accordance with the custom supposed by Mr. Jefferson, is the more probable, on account of the bones being always found in quantities. The European tumuli, of whatever age or nation, have either been heaped up over the ashes of some distinguished person, or are found to contain but a few coffins, of rough-hewn and loose stone. In America, I believe, none are supposed to cover the remains of one person only, deeply buried as in Europe, under the superincumbent mass; but in the tumuli of America the external coating of earth will easily crumble away when disturbed, and will frequently discover the bones at a trifling depth beneath the surface. Arrows and other implements of war are frequently found amongst them. The formation of these tumuli is no where understood to be a modern custom. The Indians have a feeling of reverence for them, and use them as land marks; but the most aged are unable to furnish any clue to the discovery of their antiquity. The knowledge of their own ancestors is confined to three or four generations, and nothing certain is known of the aborigines who formed these tumuli. Humboldt himself, in his “New Spain,” after a learned dissertation on the subject, is obliged to admit that “the general question of the first origin of the inhabitants of the continent, is beyond the limits prescribed to history, and is not perhaps even a philosophical question.” There can be no doubt that they were a distinct race, and more civilised than the wild Indians of the present day, whose Asiatic origin is also a subject of dispute. Humboldt believes that the analogy between the languages of Tartary and those of the new Continent extends to a very small number of words. He adds, that the want of wheat, oats, barley, rye, and of all those nutritive gramina which go under the name of cereal, seems to prove that if Asiatic tribes passed into America, they must have descended from pastoral people. We see in the old continent, that the cultivation of cereal gramina, and the use of milk were introduced as far back as we have any historical records. The inhabitants of the new continent, cultivated no other gramina than maize. They fed on no species of milk, though the lamas alpacas, and in the north of Mexico and Canada, two kinds of indigenous oxen, would have afforded them milk in abundance. These are striking contrasts between the Mongol and American race. However, in the Transactions of the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, there has lately been published a “Catalogue of a few (ninety-six) remarkable instances, which induce a belief of the Asiatic origin of the North American Indians. By Major Mercer, R. A.” These I recommend, as they are very interesting. Robertson says that “the Esquimaux Indians, are the only people in America who, in their aspect and character, bear any resemblance to the Northern Europeans.” They differ from all the other Indian tribes in their language, disposition, and habits of life. He thence infers the probability of their having originally passed over from the North-west of Europe, and adds, “that among all the other inhabitants of America, there is such a striking similitude in the form of their bodies, and the qualities of their minds, that notwithstanding the diversities occasioned by the influence of climate, or unequal progress of improvement, we must pronounce them to be descended from one source—the north east of Asia.” It may be here added, that Cuvier, when speaking of the mouflon of the Blue Mountains, informs us, that it is the only quadruped of any size, the discovery of which is entirely modern, and gives it as his opinion, that perhaps it is only a Siberian goat that has crossed the ice.

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The junction of the Susquehanna and Juniata rivers, takes place at Duncan’s Island. The latter is a much smaller river, varying from one to two hundred yards in breadth. In some places its thickly forested banks rise to a great height above the gloomy-looking stream, whose dark placidity is occasionally disturbed by small rapids, or falls, as they are termed, though they hardly deserve the name. I observed a sunken raft, and one solitary fish-hawk (osprey). The road continues along the side of the Juniata for several miles; it then leaves it, and conducts the traveller to Lewistown. I observed nothing remarkable in this place. Its situation, however, is picturesque, as it is surrounded with abrupt hills and rising grounds of different elevation, with plenty of forest, as usual. The distance from Lewistown to a place called Brown’s Mills, is not more than five miles. Here I found an excellent country inn, kept by an Irishman, and a most delicious trouting stream, running rapidly through the woods, and emerging close to the inn. It is wadeable in every part, and swarms with trout, some of them weighing more than three pounds. Those killed with a fly, do not average more than half a pound in weight; but it is no uncommon occurrence to kill five or six dozen in two or three hours. When I was there, and in fact during the whole time I passed in Pennsylvania, the season was early, and the weather cold and unfavourable, so that I killed but very few fish. A severe walk of twenty-five miles through the forest, and across a range of hills known by the name of the Seven Mountains, brought me to Belfont; a large and thriving town, conspicuous from being placed on a hill in the midst of a very pretty country. Close to Belfont are three full mountain streams, or creeks, as they are called in America. Spring creek in particular, contains an enormous quantity of trout, of about the same size as those at Brown’s Mills; but the weather was still unfavourable, and it was all in vain that I waded down the stream for nearly four miles. I took but seven or eight moderate-sized fish. The red hackle is considered the best general fly. The other streams are known by the names of the Bald Eagle, and Logan’s creek. The former takes its name from a bald eagle’s nest, that was annually built in the vicinity, or, which is more probable, from a tribe of Indians so called, who resided there. At the head waters of the other creek, is still seen the place of residence of the celebrated Mingo chief, Logan,—whose eloquent message to Lord Dunmore, is too well known to need insertion here. Many of the aged inhabitants of Belfont still remember him. His fate resembled that of Demosthenes and Cicero: he perished for his eloquence. An old officer of the United States army, who, soon after the close of the revolutionary war, was ordered to make surveys of the country watered by the Alleghany river, informed me that Logan’s nephew, a remarkably fine young Indian, dined with him one day in his tent, and that he asked him what became of Logan. I killed him, was the reply. Why did you kill him?—The nation ordered it. For what reason?—He was too great a man to live: he talked so well, that although the whole nation had intended to put any plan in execution, yet, if Logan did not approve of it, he would soon gain a majority in favour of his opinions. Was he not then generally in the right?—Often; but his influence divided the nation too much. Why did they choose you to put him to death? If any one else had done it, I would certainly have killed him: I, who am his nephew, shall inherit his greatness. Will they not then kill you also?—Yes: and when I become as great a man as Logan (laying his hand on his breast with dignity), I shall be content to die! He added, that he shot him near the Alleghany river. When informed of the resolution of the council of his nation, Logan stopped his horse, drew himself up in an attitude of great dignity, and received the fatal ball without a murmur.

From Belfont I proceeded on foot over the mountains to Philipsburg, on the western slope of the Alleghany ridge. The distance was about twenty-eight miles. After walking for several hours along the side of the Bald Eagle creek, I arrived at the foot of the Alleghanies. They are composed of sandstone, and are more extensive than any in the States on this side of the Rocky Mountains, though their height is inconsiderable. The most elevated part of the ridge in Pennsylvania does not, as I have said before, exceed 1300 feet; but at the other peak, in Virginia, it rises to 3950 feet above the level of the great western rivers, being two or three hundred feet higher than Ben Lomond. The High Peak on the Rocky Mountains is the highest mountain in the United States, and attains an elevation of 12,500 feet. Mount Washington, the highest of the White Mountains, is 6234 feet in height; Mansfield, in Vermont, the most lofty of the Green Mountains, is somewhat higher than Ben Nevis in Scotland, as it rises to 4279 feet. I ascended the Alleghany by a good road, that wound gradually up the side of the mountain, and after a walk of about three hours and a half, I was in full contemplation of the most extensive forest view I had ever yet beheld. I have seen many of the dark and impenetrable pine forests in the north of Europe, where the mountains are far higher, and the scenery proportionably grander, but I never remember a forest so interminable as that I am speaking of. One small patch of cultivation was perceivable in a very distant valley, called, I believe, Penn’s Valley. The vast thickets of Norway, Sweden, and Russia, are chiefly of pine trees, and are grand and gloomy enough, but sometimes tiresome from their monotony. Nature has painted them with her usual ability; but the colouring she has employed may be compared to that of a drawing in Indian ink, equally creditable to the artist, but not so pleasing to the eye as a many-tinted picture. There are plenty of pines on the Alleghany, but there is also an immense assemblage of other trees. A lady informed me, that being desirous of sending to England specimens of the different woods of this part of the country, she collected fifty-two without any difficulty; but there are many more than these. The principal material of the American navy is, as I have before noticed, afforded by the live-oak, so called from its being an evergreen, and from its elasticity, extreme durability, and other generous properties. The leaf of this tree resembles the ilex of Spain and England, but is rather larger, and more pointed. It is not found in Pennsylvania—growing in the southern States chiefly, in Georgia and the Carolinas, whence it is conveyed to the different dock-yards of the Union.

There are here, nevertheless, more than thirty varieties of the oak, each bearing a distinct fruit: of these, the white-oak, which is inferior in quality but comes the nearest to the navy-oak of Great Britain; the red-oak, the black, and the rock, or scrub-oak, are the most common. The other trees of the forest, are usually the Spanish-chestnut (two varieties)—the horse-chestnut is not indigenous in America, but thrives well; I saw one at the Manor near Baltimore—the hickory (two varieties); the black-walnut; the American-poplar, or tulip-tree, the pride of the American forest, and growing frequently to an enormous size; yellow, white, spruce, and hemlock pines—the larch is not found, or is rarely to be met with, in the United States: I have not seen them in the Canadas—bass-wood, or common English-lime; sugar-maple, white maple, red and white elm, willow, sassafras, black and yellow birch, ash, gum-tree, beech, iron-wood, mulberry, dog-wood, rhododendron in great quantities, kalmea, latifolia, hazel, red and white cedar, clematis, virginiana, indigo, and a great variety of ferns and wild vines.

In the autumn, or fall, as it is universally and prettily termed in America, the forest view is excessively beautiful, in consequence of the brilliant assemblage of colours exhibited by the diversity of foliage collected together. My eye roved over a constant succession of mountain and valley, and hill and hollow, all alike clothed in the glorious forest garb, whilst the more distant tints became bluer and bluer, till they faded away at the farthest verge of the horizon. The Indian had long been driven or bought out from this part of the country; but the rocks and thickets of the forest beneath me had doubtless concealed many an ambush, and witnessed many a carnage. They had responded to the sharp twang of the rifle, and re-echoed the more terrific war-whoop; but during the time that I remained on the top of the mountain, all around me was as silent as the place was solitary, with the exception of the occasional stroke from the peaceful axe of the back-woodsman, that resounded from a glade about a mile from the spot where I had sat down to rest myself.

I soon afterwards passed the Moshanan Creek, in which an expert fisherman on a favourable day can kill any quantity of trout he pleases. Beside the bridge, is a small and solitary tavern, kept by an Englishman from Gloucestershire. With him resides an old man named Joseph Earl, a complete specimen of the real backwoodsman; just such a character as Leatherstocking, in Mr. Cooper’s novel. He will take his rifle and his knapsack, and frequently absent himself for weeks at a time in search of game. If he kill a deer, he will carry off the skin, and hang up the venison in a secure place, and from his intimate acquaintance with the mountains, and every settler who lives in them, no long time elapses before he can command any assistance he may require. The principal tenants of the forest are the cougar or painter (panther), as it is very improperly termed; the bear, the wolf, the lynx (called the cat-a-mount), the wild cat, the marmot, the racoon, the opossum, and red and grey foxes. The deer, which in some places is very abundant, is the cervus virginianus, a species unknown in Europe, of a size between the red and common fallow deer, with a small palmated horn. Beside this there are but two species of deer found in the eastern States, the moose deer, or great Siberian elk, and the American elk, four of which were exhibited in London some years ago under the coined name of wapiti, and which have bred very well in England. Other kinds of deer, and goats, and sheep, and an antelope from the Rocky Mountains, are exhibited in the Zoological museum. The reindeer is found in the colder latitudes of Lower Canada, where it exists in large herds. A species of stag of gigantic size, with enormous horns, which Humboldt considers as a distinct species, is very common in the forests and plains of New California. He thinks it probable that the horns which were displayed by Montezuma to the companions of Cortez, as objects of curiosity on account of their immense size, belonged to this animal. A species of the same genus as the European chevreuil, or roebuck, is also found in Canada and some of the States. It is larger, and longer eared than the European animal. Of the cervus virginianus, or common deer of America, a single hunter will sometimes kill two or three in a day; but will more often go without a shot, as they are very wild, and their sense of smelling exceedingly acute. A still day is unfavourable; a windy day is the best, as the sportsman can then come very near them on the windward side. The cougar is their greatest enemy, but is luckily not very common. A few years ago an American gentleman who had taken up his shooting-quarters at the tavern I have just mentioned, wounded a deer, and tracked it by the blood. On coming up with it, he observed a cougar on the animal; he fired, and had the satisfaction to see it drop dead. When he approached, he saw another, that had crouched behind the body of the deer. He disabled him, and killed him with the third shot. As he was returning, he killed another deer, and brought all the four skins with him to the tavern. The old Englishman shewed me the scalp of a deer that had been killed during the last season: a cougar was in full pursuit of him; and the deer took to the water close by the tavern. The cougar sprang on him in the water, but made off when he saw one of the old man’s sons approaching with a rifle, from which the poor deer received his death-wound immediately afterwards. I found that there was a penalty of five dollars for killing a deer at this season of the year.

The winged game of these forests are—the wild turkey, which being pursued with avidity by the sportsman, is becoming more scarce every day: it is larger than the tame turkey, and its plumage closely resembles that of the dark-coloured domesticated bird, but is rather more brilliant; the pheasant, which is a species of wood-grouse; the partridge, which should rather be termed a quail, but which is, in fact, as I have hereafter noticed, neither one nor the other; the woodcock, snipe, pigeons, and wild fowl, in great abundance.

The largest snakes found in these forests, are the rattle-snake, the copper-head, or moccasin-snake, so called from its yellow colour, resembling that of the moccasin, or Indian sandal; and the black-snake. The latter grows to the length of seven or eight feet, and even longer. It moves with great rapidity, is a species of the boa-constrictor, and its habits and manner of taking its prey are similar to those of that tremendous reptile. The bite is not poisonous. The copper-head is a very dangerous snake, as it gives no warning like the rattle-snake. Its name is its description, as far as it goes. Its length is about three feet. The rattle-snake is too well known to need much description: it invariably raises its tail and rattles before it strikes, so that, in general, it can be easily avoided. The Indians consider this as proof of its noble nature, and accordingly they never destroy it, believing that it has something divine in it. A large rattle-snake would measure four feet in length, perhaps, or a little more, but is very thick in proportion. When about to attack, it suddenly coils itself, with the tail raised, and rattling in the middle of the coil, and can strike from nearly its whole length. It is a very spirited animal; and from its moving but slowly out of the way, is destroyed with little difficulty. Much has been said of the extreme danger of its bite, and of the number of persons bitten; but like the accidents from canine madness in England, they are far more often heard of than met with. It is most probable that a person would die, unless immediately assisted,—or have at all events a very narrow escape, if bitten on any part of the body that happened to be naked; but if struck through his clothes, so great a proportion of poison is by them absorbed, or prevented from coming in contact with the blood, that the bite, if taken in time, is not dangerous.

It is a well known and singular fact, that the body of a person bitten, will sometimes change whilst under the influence of the poison, to the colour of the snake that bit him. The plant called the rattle-snake weed (bidens frondosa) is a remedy used by the Indians, and sometimes, I was credibly informed, with great effect. The leaves and root are boiled in milk and used as a poultice; the milk is also taken internally. In Mr. Pratt’s botanical garden at Philadelphia, I saw a specimen of another plant which is also considered efficacious (polygela senaga) called by the French “l’herbe a serpente a sonnettes.” It grows in damp and shady parts of the woods, to a height of about two feet; has a small pointed leaf, and a single fusiform root, resembling a piece of stick-liquorice. I was, however, assured by a physician of eminence at Philadelphia, that the only remedy he had never known to fail, was the speedy application of a cupping glass to the wound, and a large tea spoonful of ammonia in a wine glass filled with water, administered every hour till the symptoms took a favourable turn. It is well known that hogs soon destroy every snake in the woods around a settlement. They eat them, and are seldom known to suffer from the bite, owing, it is said, to the quantity of fat in their system. Almost every wild animal is their enemy; small birds will often peck at them, although at the same time credence is certainly to be given to the stories of fascination or terror by which small animals, such as squirrels and birds, are sometimes rendered unable to escape from them. Deer will crush them to death, by jumping on them with all their four feet brought close together. I was frequently told that rattle-snakes were common here and there; but still I never saw one: the fact is, that they generally lie concealed. A person travelling in the woods, will sometimes come suddenly upon fifty or a hundred of them basking on the rocks. They all retire as the cold weather approaches, and lie torpid during the whole winter; so that a sportsman is in no danger from them. A French gentleman, who a year or two ago was shooting grouse very early in the season, on the mountains in New Jersey, was suddenly struck near his hip by a rattle-snake of the largest size; thanks to his loose fustain trowsers, the fangs did not touch him; the brute could not extricate itself, and hung upon him till stunned by repeated blows from his gun.

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Philipsburg is rapidly increasing, under the advantages of English superintendence: it contains about eight hundred inhabitants in the town and environs. It is almost exclusively the property of one English gentleman, who is master of nearly 70,000 acres in that part of the country. While I partook of his hospitality, I was agreeably surprised by the circle of English society, which I found collected under his roof. Several English have made Philipsburg their place of residence. Its advantages consist in a remarkably healthy situation on the western slope of the Alleghanies, where the descent is so gradual as to be hardly perceptible; an easy and constant communication with Philadelphia, and Pittsburgh on the Ohio; excellent trout-fishing, and shooting in the forest; a very cheap market (a sheep or deer can be bought for a dollar), and excellent medical advice. Uncleared land may be purchased at one, two, or three dollars an acre.

The large beaver dams in this neighbourhood afford the finest pasture imaginable. They run for several miles along the side of the Moshanan Creek. What is now called a beaver dam, is not merely the fence or dam which that industrious animal had thrown across the stream, but the whole meadow over which the water was spread in consequence of its being arrested in its course. The beaver was held sacred by the Indians, and their habitations were probably undisturbed for centuries. The stream, when checked in its career by the dam which those extraordinary animals had constructed, found its level, of course, in every nook to which it could gain access; and tree and shrub rotted away with so much moisture. As the beaver was destroyed, or driven out by the progress of civilization, the dams gave way, and the stream soon returned to its former channel, and the bottom of the pond or dam is converted into a fine meadow, exceedingly valuable for the purposes of the grazier. A person may travel through the forest for many miles, and will suddenly emerge upon a green open space, with scarcely a tree or shrub upon it, although at the same time it be surrounded by a leafy wall of the loftiest forest trees. An English gentleman had just commenced a farm on one of these dams, and I rode about six miles through the woods to visit him. The place had much the appearance of an English park, which deer and other wild animals would frequently cross, and sometimes within rifle-shot from his window. It was more than a mile in length, with the shape and appearance of a billiard table.

At Philipsburg, and in the neighbourhood, are several iron works. I visited a curious screw manufactory there: the machine for heading the screws was invented on the spot, and probably there is not such another to be found any where. It turned out about sixty screws in a minute, and finished them off with a neatness that would excite the surprise even of a mechanist.

I have before mentioned that Philadelphia will shortly be connected with the Ohio river, by means of the Columbia rail-road, from which the great Pennsylvania canal will soon be finished to the foot of the Alleghany mountains, where it will be joined by another rail-road, which will pass the mountains, and communicate with Pittsburg. Another rail-road will, most probably, be constructed, so as to intersect the same canal a little above Huntingdon. It will come from the bituminous coal district, which lies about Philipsburg and Clearfield county, and is spread over a great extent of ground on the western slope of the Alleghany. Plenty of stone or anthracite coal is to be found in many parts of Pennsylvania, and in vast quantities; but the bituminous coal used in the transatlantic cities is supplied either from Liverpool, from Nova Scotia, or from Virginia. The particles of the Virginia coal, however, are too much divided, and it more resembles the coal used by a blacksmith, than the Newcastle coal. I have understood that bituminous coal has been lately discovered, although in very small quantities, in Pennsylvania, on the eastern side of the mountain. The anthracite coal throws out a very powerful heat, but is very troublesome and unmanageable, requiring a long time before it will kindle properly; burning without flame or smoke, and creating an unpleasant and rather unhealthy dryness in the atmosphere of a room. An experiment had been successfully tried in New York, by which the anthracite coal had been rendered subservient to the purposes of the steam-engine. It was contrived that a stream of hydrogen-gas, generated by part of the engine, should flow constantly over the burning coal, so that a powerful flame was thus fed under the boiler. But in all cases where a manageable fire is required, the bituminous coal is far preferable. By means of the Philipsburg rail-road, the whole country will be supplied with this valuable mineral, at a very moderate expense, from the inexhaustible stores on the western slope of the Alleghany. The necessity of making cheaper iron is becoming daily more imperative in the United States. For this end, to say nothing of the carriage of timber, the Philipsburg rail-road will be very advantageous, as it will bring down the coal to be converted into coke, to be used in the smelting furnaces; and it will pass through the midst of the Juniata iron district, where more than twenty forges and furnaces already exist in full activity; and whose increasing importance calls for a more adequate and expeditious mode of conveyance than it at present commands. The whole country will be much benefited; and independently of the real and lasting advantages to be gained by the construction of the Philipsburg rail-road, an early attention to the plan, from the proper quarter, will be but justice to the exertions of a gentleman, who, with his brothers before him, has devoted time and capital to the enterprise, and has called into existence a highly respectable community, and the most thriving and useful settlement in the back woods of Pennsylvania.

T. S. Engleheart, sculpṭ

NORTHUMBERLAND, ON THE SUSQUEHANNA, PENNSYLVANIA.

_Published by Whittaker & C^o. April 10, 1832._]

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I left Philipsburg, and returned to Belfont, whence I took the road to Northumberland. In about six hours I again came in sight of the Susquehanna, flowing through an extensive valley, with its lofty southern bank robed to the very summit by a covert so thickly interwoven as to be absolutely impassable. I proceeded down the side of the river till I arrived at the ferry at Dunnsburg. Here I met with a piece of singular incivility and impudence. The insolent young Charon allowed me to place my luggage in his leaky bark; but as I was proceeding to take my seat, he “calkilated,” with the most disagreeable twang (at least, I thought so) that I had yet heard, “that I must pay him a fip (five-penny bit) before I put my foot into his boat.” It was all in vain that I pointed to my portmanteau, intimating that it would be “assets” for the payment of my passage to the other side. Nothing would satisfy him but my fip beforehand; and I was obliged to pay it. It appeared that some stage-passengers had gone off without paying, and he did not wish to be cheated a second time. The guard who arrived with the mail, was so enraged at his conduct, that he actually took out one of the horses, crammed him through the river, and arrived safely on the other side with the letter-bags.

Within a mile or two of Dunnsburg, are some Indian tumuli; but I did not stop to see them. I travelled onward through a most delightful country, abounding in black-oak; the bark of which is sent down the river, and shipped off in great quantities for England, where it is used in dying. I enjoyed a very fine view from the hill over which the road passes near Moncey; but I afterwards saw the same prospect to much greater advantage, from Northumberland. This place contains about two thousand inhabitants, and is most delightfully situated on the neck of land that separates the northern and western branches of the Susquehanna. The celebrated Dr. Priestley spent the latter years of his life in this place. He died about twenty-five years ago. I was assured by an old and intimate friend of his, who was with him but a few minutes before he died, that there was great foundation for a prevalent belief, that for some months previously to his death, he changed his opinions in favour of the divinity of Christ.

Good land, in a state of cultivation, is worth twenty, thirty, forty, or even a hundred dollars the acre, in this part of the country. The average profits of land amount to twelve and a half per cent. Thirty bushels of wheat is a good crop. The wages of the married labourer are fifteen dollars a month (the United States dollar is equal to 4_s._ 6_d._). Single men, who board at the house of their employer, receive but ten. Wherever I made inquiry, I found the rate of labourers’ wages to be much the same throughout the States.

I crossed the western branch of the Susquehanna by a new and handsome wooden bridge, built as usual on stone piers. Its length was 1316 feet, and it cost 70,000 dollars. I then immediately ascended the heights on the other side. From them I had a full view of both branches of this “shining river,” an appellation which none deserves better than the Susquehanna. I preferred the scenery around Moncey to that in the direction of Wyoming. The sun was declining behind the precipice on which I stood, which was thrown more and more into shade, as the red rays glanced through the pines on its summit, and swept downward into the broad and beautiful valley beneath me. The windings of the river were visible to a great distance. Although considerably larger, it strongly reminded me of the Thames seen from Richmond-hill. Its tranquil lake-like stream meandered through the country, encircling several islands: at one time gliding in silence through the forest, or emerging to roll its waters over a rich and extensive meadow, it freshened every thing in its course; and when it had fully performed the task of ornament and usefulness allotted to it by nature, it seemed to lose itself through a gap in the Blue Mountains, from which in reality it issued.

Beautiful as it is, yet, were this England, I could not help thinking, how different would be the appearance of the country! I am gazing on a view, as splendid as any one of the same character I ever beheld in any land,—I see before me a noble river, winding its way through an exquisite landscape, of hill and dale, and wood and verdure, abounding in every resource that could make a country life agreeable; but it is in vain that my disappointed eye roves over the scene, and rests on the most magnificent situations for park and palace: where, thought I, are the “stately homes of England?”—where is the marble-fronted hall, and the village church beside it, with its spire pointing to the heavens? The powerless genius of embellishment wanders disconsolate along the beautiful banks of the Susquehanna, and bitterly complains that he is fettered by the spirit of democracy.

I am far from meaning to infer in the above passage, that there is any lack of churches in the United States. On the contrary, they are numerous. As an Englishman, I am here speaking merely with reference to situation, and the association of ideas excited in my mind.

The Americans, in general, are not fond of comparisons between England and their own country, except in cases where the balance is in their favour; but still, I have often observed that there is no subject of conversation more gladly discussed by an American gentleman, and more particularly by those who have country houses of their own, than the splendour of the seats of our nobility and gentry, and the perfection of society which is enjoyed at them. There is nothing in England so apt to elicit from them a remark of honest regret, as their knowledge of the very remote probability, I may almost add, the utter hopelessness, of their ever being able to boast of seats and villas at all equal to those on this side of the Atlantic, so long as the present form of government exists in full force. Who would build a really splendid mansion, which, after his death, will probably either become a ruin, or be sold, and converted into an hospital? or who would clear and beautify a park of any extent, to be divided and ploughed up by his needy successors? I have seen country houses in America, whose delightful situation, and gentlemanly appearance, (although it must be allowed, they often look their best at a distance), only serve to render the prospect of division the more melancholy. I have been kindly received at many of them: I have usually noticed a due attention to comfort and elegance, and invariably, to kindness and hospitality; but I have not been able to avoid a remark, that there did not appear to be much difference in the size of the houses, or the extent of the grounds, as if there existed a general and mournful acknowledgment, that a just medium was to be observed between the expense incurred with reference to present enjoyment, and the probability of an ultimate loss of capital, when the future was regarded. I could name a few, but very few, exceptions.

Whatever the Americans may think of their institutions in other respects, there are many sensible Americans—and I have met with them—who will acknowledge the inefficacy of these to counteract the disadvantages, not to say miseries, sometimes arising from the non-existence of the law of primogeniture. The object is, to exclude the preponderance of wealth, because it tends to generate an aristocracy of political power. The non-existence of the law of primogeniture is, I think, with great deference, but lamely defended by Chancellor Kent, in his admirable Commentaries on American Law, and which, by the way, are most richly deserving of a place in every library, if it be merely on account of the learned dissertations on the history of every republic of note that has ever existed. He quotes Adam Smith in support of his opinions; the Marquess Garnier, his French translator; and the Baron de Stael Holstein,—and although he acknowledges the attendant evils, yet he says it would be an error to suppose that they have been already felt. But surely there are some which he does not contemplate in his work; but which must be acknowledged to have a miserable effect upon the state of society. A sale, not unattended with sacrifice, takes place at the decease of nearly every person who dies in possession of landed property. This is followed by a minute division of the proceeds amongst the next of kin. As to the law of dower, it is much the same as that of England generally; but where the sale has been made, the produce is considered as real estate so far, and the widow receives an annuity from one third in lieu of her dower. This does not effect the distribution of the remainder, which is divided as in England. It often happens, that the share of each person, if young, is just enough to purchase his destruction.

Very frequently, but in some States more than others, its most prominent application is detected by the effects of a vicious indulgence in ardent spirits, principally among the second and lower classes. Drunkenness still prevails to an alarming extent, notwithstanding the benign presence of the temperate societies. I have heard the most melancholy and appalling accounts of its ravages in private life; and in one place I was informed of its disgusting influence over judicial morality. The root of the evil is in the expectations which are formed: it is the certainty of actual possession of property at a future time, accompanied by ignorance as to its amount, that so often cherishes in the children the most dissolute habits of idleness, with all their attendant evils. Supposing both of them in the same easy circumstances as country gentlemen, and fathers of families, how different must of necessity be the sentiments of an American and an Englishman, when they survey their respective fire sides! Both see around them their wives and children, in the possession of affluence and comfort, and happy in the enjoyment of each other’s society. But in the event of his death, how gloomy may be the picture drawn by the one, in opposition to that contemplated by the other! A divided estate and a dispersed family, present themselves to the mind of the American; or perhaps a small part of them living together, but unable to command any share of the luxuries, and not many of the comforts they enjoy during his lifetime, in consequence of a secession of property by marriage, or decrease of it from dissipation. The Englishman feels a debt of gratitude to the constitution of his country: in the event of his death, his house, in the possession of his eldest son, will be a home for his widow and a place of meeting for his children. His younger sons have been brought up under the idea that they are to be the architects of their own fortunes, and such a doctrine has not rendered them unhappy, because it has enforced the virtue of contentment. The law of primogeniture perpetuates, through the eldest son, a species of parental affection and authority; and where there is a title to descend, there is a further inducement to the eldest son to emulate the virtues or the actions of an illustrious father; or, if that father has brought disgrace upon a distinguished name or sullied the escutcheon of a distinguished family (which, be it added, is sometimes the case), the son may be naturally desirous of wiping away the stain, and of giving the benefit of his example to society, by his imitation of the character of a nobler ancestor. There is yet a further deficiency of inducement to exertion existing in the American, and in every other democracy. In England, a young man in the enjoyment of a sufficient income, and who is consequently not obliged to labour at any profession with a view to its increase, yet with the possibility of obtaining a title, will exert his abilities to the utmost; but in America, the stimulus of titled distinction being unknown, it must often happen that the finest talents are doomed to remain unemployed.

I crossed the north branch of the Susquehanna, and passed on to the town of Sunbury, on the bank of the main river, and about two miles distant from Northumberland. Sunbury is a very pretty country town, with a delightful promenade along the side of the river. In all parts of the vicinity there are some beautiful prospects: near it, a very large dam has been thrown across the stream, where, by the junction of its two branches, it spreads out, and forms a basin three quarters of a mile across. I observed some fishermen hauling their nets, and went up to them. They had taken some cat-fish, and several salmon. The cat-fish has obtained its name from its appearance: its head, which is out of all proportion to its body, is large and round, with the addition of two worm-like appendages projecting beneath the eyes, like the whiskers of a cat. It is altogether a dark, ugly-looking fish; but is eatable, with a flavour something like that of an eel, but inferior. In the larger western rivers it sometimes attains a weight of eighty or one hundred pounds. The fish improperly called the salmon, in no respects resembles the real salmon of Great Britain. It has none of the peculiarities of the salmo genus; and does not rise at a fly. In figure it is not remarkable; in colour it is more similar to the pike than to any fish I am acquainted with. The weight of those usually taken, is about a pound; but some of them are larger. A fly-fisher would have but moderate sport on the Susquehanna; but he might kill a great variety of fish, if he condescended to use a bait, and might occasionally take a large trout with a minnow. The river contains pike and eels, of immense size; trout, not numerous; rock-fish, cat-fish, suckers, common and silver perch—a beautiful fish; and a very small species of lamprey, that is only used as a bait. The shad is also found in great quantities in this and almost all the rivers of the Eastern States. It is excellent eating, and usually weighs about four pounds; but I thought the flavour of the Susquehanna salmon equal, if not superior, to any fish I tasted in the United States. I should almost presume that it was peculiar to that river, as I have frequently met with natives of other States who had never heard of it.

At Sunbury, I chanced to be told that three Yorkshiremen had just been taken up. I would bet three to one, said I to myself, that their crime is horse-stealing! and so it proved when I made inquiry.

I here turned my steps away from the Susquehanna, which for placid beauty surpassed in my opinion any other river in the States, and proceeded towards Philadelphia, by way of Pottsville and Reading. Scarcely more than a year ago there were but a few houses at the former place; but in consequence of the immediate vicinity of enormous beds of anthracite coal, and the improved means of conveyance to Philadelphia, its size and importance had increased in a most extraordinary manner.

The country around Philadelphia is very flat; so that I could not find a rising ground to take a sketch from, at what I considered the best distance. But, I think, in passing down the river, in my way to Baltimore, I perceived a small cliff on the left bank, that would have answered the purpose, being distant about two miles and a half. A view in a flat country requires great minuteness, if it be taken correctly, and would have occupied too much time; besides, before commencing a drawing of either of the larger cities in the Union, it really became a matter of consideration, that I had but one cake of “Newman’s light red” in my colour-box.

A fine steamer carried me down the Delaware. About thirty-five miles from Philadelphia, we passed Wilmington and Brandywine. We were then landed at the mouth of the Chesapeake and Delaware canal, and were towed onward, at a brisk trot, in one of the canal boats, and soon entered the Elk river, near the head waters of Chesapeake bay. The country was flat; and a great proportion of it was covered with forest. Here we went on board another steam-boat, that rattled us along at a tremendous pace down the Chesapeake, passing the mouth of the Susquehanna. The captain assured me that upon one occasion, during a camp-meeting, he had carried no less than fifteen hundred persons at a time; he landed them during the night, and about two hundred got away without paying their passage.