―250―

memorandums made on a jour-
ney through part of penn-
slyvania.

(Continued from page 167.)

The next stage was Lavenberg's,
nine miles from Kepner's. There

is no cultivation of any kind between
the two places. The large trees
have at different periods been blown
down, and the ground is thickly
covered with low timber, chiefly
oak bushes, producing vast quanti-
ties of acorns, nuts and berries, and
inhabited by panthers and deer,
together with immense multitudes
of pheasants, and other wild fowl,
among which the turkey is fre-
quently seen.

It is probable that many years
will elapse before this tract will
become the home of man, as there
are yet so many millions of acres
of better land unsettled in the United
States. The temptation to cultivate
any portion of this spot must there-
fore be feeble and remote. The
period may never arrive....but it is
evident, sterile and bleak as it is,
that it might be forced to contri-
bute to human support. One great
art in cultivation consists in adapt-
ing the product to the nature of
the climate and soil, and where
berries and nuts grow spontane-
ously, the genius and industry of
man, goaded by necessity, may
surely contrive the means of sub-
sistence. The surface is gravel,
sand, and rock, with a small mix-
ture of loam.

We overtook two young men on
foot, who had killed a rattle-snake
haying twelve rattles. This is
undoubtedly one of the most formi-
dable reptiles of North-America;
and it is a fortunate circumstance
that he seldom if ever commences
an attack without previous notice.
He is naturally sluggish, but, con-
scious of his power, is little dis-
posed to yield his path to an intru-
der. His maxim seems to be,
“Let me alone, and I'll let you
alone.” When irritated he rarely
misses his object, if within his reach,
and it is a remarkable fact, that,
after the head is severed from the
body, if you touch the tail with a
stick, the part nearest the head will
strike the offending stick with great
force, and so instantly and cer-
tainly, that it requires uncommon
dexterity to avoid the blow.

―251―

Notwithstanding vulgar preju-
dice, there are few of our snakes
whose bite is not as harmless as the
bite of a mouse. This is certainly
the case with the black snake, gar-
ter snake, water snake, and some
others.

Lavenberg finds it necessary to
house his sheep at night. Not many
years since the wolves were so bold
that they frequently advanced into
his barn yard in the day time and
carried off his flock.

To keep the wolf at a distance,
it is sufficient occasionally to scour
his haunts with a pack of the larger
species of hounds: they are his natu-
ral enemies, and he never fails to
desert the country which echoes to
their music.

When at Lavenberg's, we ima-
gined we had passed the worst of
our day's ride, having crossed no
less than five stupendous ridges of
mountains: the Blue, the Tusca-
roro, the Locust, the Broad, and
the Mahanoy. The passage over
them is better adapted to the taste
of a poet, than to that of a farmer.
Here are also a few handsome
lover's leaps, where the heart-sick
melting swain might find a ready
cure for all his earthly afflictions.
The road skirts some of these
ridges at the height of one thou-
sand or more feet, nearly vertically
above the contracted vallies which
border their rude bases. Instances
sometimes occur of loaded waggons
meeting in these dangerous passes,
in which case there is no alterna-
tive but to ungear one of the teams,
to conduct the horses one by one to
the rear of the waggon, and then to
draw it back until a spot can be
found sufficiently level and spacious
to turn aside, which in some parts
requires the patient toil of hours,
and the retrograde motion of miles.
To prevent these disagreeable con-
sequences, the waggoners crack
their whips, and whoop to give
notice of their approach. They
had need to be careful, for a trifling
mistake would be attended with
inevitable destruction. It is not a
little surprising that waggons, car-

rying from twelve to fourteen bar-
rels of flour, are continually tra-
velling these roads, which, we
thought, were almost impassable
on horseback, and frequently led
our horses, and walked for hours
successively in preference to riding.

It had been threatening rain all
day, and while at Lavenberg's, a
smart shower fell; it ceased between
four and five in the afternoon, when
we again mounted and proceeded
on our way. Presently we began
to ascend what is called the Little
Mountain, but which is in reality a
very lofty and rugged ridge. As
we approached its summit, a scene
suddenly opened to our view, which,
for a time, rivetted our whole at-
tention, and engrossed all our
thoughts. We were struck with
admiration and surprise, mixed
with pleasure and awe. Towards
the south-west our view extended
to an immense distance over an
unimproved and woody country,
where mountains rise back of moun-
tains as far as the eye can reach,
seeming to vie with each other in
the wild aspect of their fronts, and
in the bold elevation of their peaks.
Around them clouds were seen to
rush in every direction, and dark
storms were fast gathering on their
craggy sides. Neither of us had
ever witnessed similar appearan-
ces, and we involuntarily halted to
indulge in the transports of the mo-
ment. We saw the rain descend-
ing in copious streams beneath the
mountains'tops; witnessed the vivid
flash of the tremulous lightning ap-
parently below us; and listened to
the awful peal of distant thunder
re-echoed from clifF to cliff, and
answering to the hollow blast of the
driving wind. We were not long
permitted to remain idle spectators
of this conflict of the elements, nor
to enjoy unmolested the novelty and
sublimity of this scene. Presently
a tumultuous assemblage of clouds
arriving from, various points, pre-
sented themselves against the side
of the mountain nearest to us, and
distant; about three miles. We saw
the storm hastily advance, and dash

―252―

itself against the opposing eminence.
It grew darker and darker, as if
enraged at the interruption, and
determined to surmount it. We
were in full view of the contest. It
was of short duration. The storm
moved slowly to the summit in an
oblique direction from us, and hav-
ing surmounted it, came with head-
long speed down the opposite side.
The mountain on which we were
was the next highest point of at-
traction, and the gloomy mass ad-
vanced with great velocity towards
us. The wind began to whistle
keenly around us, and the wild
driving of the coming tempest soon
awakened us to a sense of our ex-
posed situation. To avoid it was
impossible, and our inhospitable
region afforded us not the slightest
shelter. We prepared to defend
ourselves in the best manner we
could, by covering our huts with oil
cloths, and buttoning our great coats
tight about us. It was in vain; for,
in a few minutes we were wet to
the skin and completely drenched;
the water appeared to fall, not in
drops, but in sheets, and the effects
of its violence on our faces was very
disagreeable and even painful. Our
horses were not better pleased than
ourselves. They could snort and
prance, but, like their masters,
were compelled to bear the wind
and rain without a hope of protec-
tion or escape. On our right there
was an insurmountable barrier of
rocks, and on our left a most dan-
gerous precipice. The road was
too rough and steep to admit of
their being urged out of a slow
walk, in addition to which the rain
that fell so covered the passage,
that, in a short time, they were
constantly wading through torrents,
which must have effectually pre-
cluded our march, had not the
floods found frequent openings,
down which they rushed to the
lower grounds: in this situation we
dragged on, the storm beating on
us with great violence....our horses
moved forward with reluctance,
and we became apprehensive, that,
when we should descend to the op-

posite foot of the mountain, we
should have to encounter some cur-
rent rendered impassable by the
rain, and thus be compelled to re-
turn to Lavenberg's after night.
In this apprehension we were partly
mistaken, for we afterwards disco-
vered that our course lay over high
grounds, the western descent of the
mountain being inconsiderable. We
continued in a wilderness, nor saw
improvement of any kind, until we
were seven miles from our last
stage, when we were gratified with
the appearance of a house. The
storm had greatly abated, but it
continued to rain very fast, and we
pleased ourselves with the hope of
procuring a comfortable retreat for
the night. A nearer inspection of
the miserable hovel decided the
matter, and we determined to pro-
ceed rather than enter it. It was a
one story building, but whether of
wood or stone we did not sufficiently
examine to remember. It was evi-
dently too much open to the wea-
ther to protect its inhabitants, who,
young and old, flocked together to
gape at us as we passed. Their
complexions were ruddy, and the
children were in rags about the
door sporting in the rain and mud.
Two miles further on our way we
passed another sorry dwelling, after
which we saw several newly im-
proved farms and cottages, in a to-
lerable soil. Night came on as we
crossed the Catawessy Mountain,
which was nigh occasioning us a
disagreeable if not a fatal accident.
We were utter strangers to the
road, and it became so dark that
we could scarce see a yard before
us. When arrived at the Cata-
wessy creek, my horse refused to
move forward; I urged him but he
became unruly. J. who had been
behind me, came up, and thought
he could perceive that we were
about to enter on the ruins of a
bridge totally impassable on horse-
back. This we found to be the
case when we had an opportunity
of viewing the same place in open
day, and had we proceeded many
steps further, it is quite probable

―253―

that both horses and riders would
have been lost. The skeleton of an
old wooden bridge, with a single
plank extended length-wise over
the stream, and barely sufficient to
admit a footman, was all that re-
mained. From the roaring of the
water it was evidently not inconsi-
derable either in quantity or force;
but whether the noise was the ef-
fect of natural falls, or proceeded
from a mill-dam, we were unable
to determine. We could not, in
our wet disagreeable trim, think of
turning back, especially as there
was no house near us, nor any that
we knew of, in which we could
count on being comfortably lodged
on this side of Lavenberg's. The
prospect on either hand was not
very consoling; we could not have
reached Lavenberg's before morn-
ing, and we knew not the width,
depth, or rapidity of the creek.
There was no person at hand to
consult, and who by a single friendly
word, might have relieved us from
our perplexity. At length we de-
termined to proceed, encouraged
by the appearance of a light on the
opposite shore, which convinced us
that a human habitation was at
hand. Directed by the roaring of
the falls, we moved cautiously be-
low them, and boldly took the
stream: we were exceedingly elat-
ed on finding it less formidable than
we feared, and soon landed safely
on the western banks. We now
inquired our way, and being di-
rected into the right road, reached
the town of Catawessy in a short
time, it being but about half a mile
from the creek.

Our first care was to change our
clothing, but on opening our saddle-
bags, we perceived that the rain
had penetrated them and wet every
garment. However, by an inter-
change of civilities, we contrived
to muster as many pieces between
us as enabled each to have a tolera-
bly dry suit. A silk coatee in which
I rode, was changed into a dozen
colours and shades, and might have
suited Joseph of old, though it was

rendered useless to me. Even our
hats, notwithstanding their cover-
ings of oil cloth, were thoroughly
wet. After a little furbishing and
recruiting, we could not but give
vent to some merriment, on look-
ing round our chamber, which, had
more of the appearance of a washer-
woman's kitchen than of a lodging
room, so handsomely had we deco-
rated it with our dripping apparel.

23d. A good dish of coffee in the
evening, and a comfortable night's
lodging, make us feel little the
worse for the exposure and drench-
ing of yesterday. It rained most of
the night. This morning the sky
is fair and serene.

It seems an odd humour in our
landlady to make choice of a case
of walnut drawers placed in our
chamber, for the storage of her
Dutch cheese. The odour is gene-
rally not much more agreeable to
the nose of an Englishman than the
smell of rotten eggs. This cheese,
or, as the Germans call it, kaese, is
made of the curd of milk suffered
to grow sour; it is salted, pressed
in cloths, and afterwards dried and
hardened in the sun, and not unu-
sually ripened in hay. In this state,
when made of rich milk, it is very
palatable, and little inferior to the
cheese of the English dairy, but the
Germans prefer it when rancid or
putrid, in which state it emits a
stench to which nothing but habit
and prejudice can reconcile us.

An agreeable sauce called schmeer-
kaese, is also made by the Germans,
from the curd of sour milk. The
whey being entirely pressed out,
the curd is moistened with fresh
cream, brought to a suitable con-
sistence for spreading, and then
eaten on bread, but more frequently
on bread and butter. This is a de-
licate preparation, and is rarely
rejected by the most dainty palate.
The Germans of Pennsylvania are
greatly attached to these simple
relishes for bread, and it is not un-
common, among the better class of
the farmers, to see the master of
the house regale himself with butter

―254―

honey, apple-butter*, and schmeer-
kaese, spread in successive layers
on the same slice of bread, and in
this manner eaten with milk, and
sometimes with wasser-suppe. The
latter is an universal dish among
the German-Americans, and is com-
posed of fried flour and butter, on
which boiling water is poured, after
the addition of thin slices of bread,
and the common culinary spices.

My boots being too wet to wear,
I have been obliged to borrow a pair
of shoes from the landlord, which
being much too large, I make ra-
ther an aukward appearance, and
J.is very merry at my hobbling
gait. We nevertheless attended
divine service at friends’ meeting-
house; about one hundred persons
of both sexes, and mostly from the
adjacent settlement, were present.
It is the only house of worship in
the town.

There are about forty-five dwel-
lings in Catawessy; only one of
them is built of stone, the rest are
either log or frame. It is a place
of little or no trade, and most pro-
bably ever will be. It was planned
and settled about fifteen years ago,
when every speculator, who owned
a level tract of land on the Susque-
hanna, seemed infected with the
town-making mania. Poor people
were induced, by specious and illu-
sory representations, to purchase
lots, and having spent all their mo-
ney, and perhaps run in debt, in
the erection of small tenements,
they could not, after finding them-
selves deceived and disappointed,
sell out, and have therefore been
compelled to remain for want of
the means to remove.

Catawessy is on the eastern
branch of the Susquehanna. The
mountains on the east, south, and
north of the town, form an irregu-
lar semi-circle, with the points ter-
minating in the river, and are dis-


  * The substance is made by boiling
apples in sweet cyder, to which some
simple spice, most generally pimento,
is added. The Germans call it lu-
dwerg.



tant about three-fourths of a mile.
The highest ridge lies to the east-
ward, and is said from actual mea-
surement, to be twelve hundred
feet above the adjacent plain.

Here are still some vestiges of an
Indian burying ground, and some
peach trees of their planting in to-
lerable preservation. Having in
the afternoon visited J. S. who lives
on the western bank of the Cata-
wessy creek, he pointed out to us
what he takes to be the traces of an
Indian fortification: it consists of a
number of square holes, dug at
equal distances on the eastern shore,
describing a line of several hundred
feet: whether these apertures serv-
ed as intrenchments from which an
assaulting enemy might be annoyed,
or were subservient to some more
complex scheme of warlike opera-
tions, or whether they were at all
used for hostile purposes, may be
left for the sage determination of
some future dealer in antiquities.

Some years back a few of the in-
habitants, from motives of curio-
sity, dug up a corpse from the
grave-yard. It proved to be a fe-
male; she had been interred with-
out a coffin, and was, according to
the custom of the Indians, placed
in a sitting posture. Care had been
taken to provide her with a small
iron kettle, some trinkets, and a
tobacco-pipe, ready charged in each
hand. These equipments were
doubtless intended to contribute to
the comfort and convenience of the
deceased on her journey to the land
of spirits, and would probably be as
efficacious as the tolling of bells,
and the firing of guns, over the
body of a white man. If this cus-
tom of our tawney brethren be re-
pugnant to our notions of good sense,
we should not forget that our own
must appear to them equally irre-
concilable to reason and philosophy.
We were shewn one of the pipes.
It is the common clay of European
manufacture. The skeleton was
preserved for sometime by the phy-
sician of the town, but the super-
stitious Germans in the neighbour-
hood, fearful perhaps that this out-

―255―

rage on the bones of the unoffend-
ing squaw might be followed by some
tremendous act of vengeance on her
part, compelled the doctor to re-
inter them.

The inhabitants still preserve a
large elm on the bank of the river,
under which the sachems formerly
held their councils. I could not
contemplate this object with indif-
ference. Who that has the feelings
of a man, and whose bosom glows
with the smallest sense of honour
and justice, can view this elm with
apathy? Where are now those ve-
nerable and veteran chieftains and
warriors, who were accustomed
to assemble beneath its friendly
shade…and who received here with
open arms the first white man who
came helpless and forlorn among
them? Surely they were unconsci-
ous that, in a few very few revolv-
ing moons, the stranger whom they
here cherished and warmed by the
council fire; to whom they here
presented the wampum of conse-
crated friendship, and with whom
they here smoked the sacred ca-
lumet of peace, had come to sup-
plant them in their native posses-
sions, to root out their posterity
from the country, and to trample
down the graves of their fathers.

These ancient inheritors of the
soil reluctantly submit to the disci-
pline and shackles of civilized life,
and in general have shewn con-
tempt for our customs and man-
ners; but as their hunting grounds
become destroyed, necessity may
force them to resort to other means
of subsistence.

An Indian being asked by two
white men, how he, who gave him-
self no concern about religion, ex-
pected to reach heaven, answered,
“Suppose we three in Philadel-
phia, and we hear of some good
rum at Fort-Pitt....we set off to get
some, but one of you has business
at Baltimore, and he go that way....
the other wants to make some mo-
ney too on the road, and he go by
Reading....Indian got no business,
no money to get....he set off and go
strait up to Fort-Pitt, and get there
before either of you.”

The Indians of North-America
are well skilled in this species of
sarcastic humour. I remember to
have been present at an interview
between some of their chiefs and a
select number of citizens who had
benevolently devoted both time and
property to the introduction of use-
ful and civilized arts among the sa-
vages. The Little Turtle, among
other improvements which he enu-
merated to have taken place among
his people, mentioned that they ma-
nufactured considerable quantities
of sugar from the juice of the ma-
ple. He was asked how they con-
trived to procure suitable vessels
to contain the syrup when boiling.
He affected a very grave counte-
nance, as he answered “that the
unfortunate affair of St. Clair had
furnished them with a considera-
ble number of camp kettles which
answered the purpose very well.”
It was known that this chief had
headed the united Indian forces in
their intrepid attack on the Ame-
rican army, commanded by Gene-
ral St. Clair, and in which the lat-
ter were defeated with immense
slaughter, and suffered the loss of
their camp equipage.

(To be continued.)