RECOLLECTIONS

OF

PLACES AND PERSONS IN THE WEST.

CHAPTER I.

THE AUTHOR BEGINS WITH HIS BIRTH, WHERE MEN GENERALLY BEGIN-INCIDENTS OF CHILDHOODFIRST VOYAGE DOWN THE OHIO RIVER.

EVERY one thinks the story of his own life more curious, and better worth relating than that of his neighbour; perhaps, because he is more intimately acquainted with its incidents, and more fully impressed with their importance. Jean Jacques Rousseau deceived himself, when he so eloquently announced, that if not better than other men, he was at least different from them. Originals, very like the copy he has given, may be found in the possession of many others of the children of Adam. There is, no doubt, a great diversity in human cha

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racter, as well as in occupations and pursuits: but masters and prodigies are rare. Yet, the most humble and common subjects, when delineated by the pen of a Goldsmith, may be rendered classic; according to Boileau,

Il n'y a point de serpens, ni monstre hideux,
Par l'art imité ne puisse plaire aux yieux.

There is no snake, there is no monster vile,
Pictured by art, that may not please the while.

I shall, therefore, offer no apology for this attempt, although not possessed of the magic pen of the writer I have named-but I foresee no small inconvenience from the frequent recurrence of the personal pronoun.

To begin with my birth, where men generally begin: that event took place about the year 1786, at the very fountain or source of the noble river Ohio (that is, if we consider such the spot where its name first attaches), where stood the village of Fort Pitt, now Pittsburgh. My father was an eminent lawyer, although thought to be somewhat eccentric, with what justice, I shall not take upon me to say; but he always denied the charge, and asserted, that he was the only one of his acquaintance, that was like every body else. memory does not recall to me the features of my mother, having lost her before I was eighteen months old; and in consequence, my infancy was cast upon the charity of an uncharitable world. Accident placed me in the charge of the wife of a respectable cobbler,

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where I fared as well as might have been expected; that is, I was half starved, half clad, and well scorched and meazled in the hot ashes and embers. Her son Joe was my nurse; that is, it was his particular business to attend to me, and he became much attached to his nursling. He had a genius for all kinds of mischief, and loved the busy idleness of marble-playing, or hustle-cap, generally taking me along with him, while he defended me from any injury, with the affection and ferocity of a tiger.

A lady, (whom I must always remember with more than gratitude) at whose house my father had taken up his abode, called to see me, was touched with compassion for my situation, and, with the consent of my parent, resolved to take charge of me herself, and accordingly had me brought to her house. My appearance was at first so unpromising, that she almost repented the step she had taken; but a favourable change was soon effected by a course of gentle treatment. Having no children of her own at that time, she conceived for me the affection of a mother. My father's time was chiefly passed at his office in the village; and being entirely devoted to books and business, he took little notice of me, until he heard very favourable accounts of my capacity. When turned of two years old, I was one day carried to church, and being struck with what I saw, attempted on my return to imitate the clergyman, putting my hands together, shutting my eyes, and repeating some of his words. My father, who was too much of a philosopher to be moved by

the mere yearnings of nature, was delighted with the discovery of an improvable intellect. As I came playing about his chair, he took his eyes from his book, and addressed me as follows: "well, boy, can you do any thing for your living?", "I can make shoes"-was my reply, and then went through the motions of my foster father the cobbler. "You must learn to read," said he, and accordingly procured me a horn book. But alas! the inconsiderate cruelty of forcing a playful child, not three years old, to the hard task of constant application! A disgust to letters might have been occasioned, as lasting as life. My screams, on these occasions, generally summoned my generous protectress, who interposed, and saved me from the rod, but not from the terror, or from that feeling too closely allied to fear. Parents usually err on the side of indulgence, and it is seldom necessary to caution them. against that harsh, and unkind treatment, whose tendency is, to destroy the bud of filial love.

Three of my infant years thus glided away, like a fountain rivulet, in that delightful spot on Grant's Hill, where the ancient Indian mound, with its summer house, overlooks the pellucid current of the Alleghany, uniting with its turbid brother the Monongahela, to form the source of the Ohio. These beautiful rivers, and the varied and charming landscape to the east, and the mountain like appearance of Coal Hill, made the first, as well as the most lasting impressions on my memory. Before the surrounding atmosphere was obscured by

those volumes of smoke, the whole world might have been challenged to produce a more beautiful scene. Yet, in general, the recollections. of infancy are but few-I mean the recollections of maturer years, of what transpired in infancy. I remember the bite of a large dog, directly under my left eye, and the application of some of his hair to the wound-I remember an alarm of Indians, and people running to and fro in the night-I remember the lonely, mournful sound of the cow-bells in the little valley of Suke's Run-and I remember a few doses of nauseous doctor's stuff, administered to me by Dr Nathaniel Bedford and his partner Dr Mowry, but as to every thing else, they are scarcely as distinct as the traces of a forgotten dream.

When I was five years old, my parent espoused the daughter of a respectable German farmer, and justice of the peace or 'squire (according to the Pennsylvania idiom), and I was taken from the good lady who had adopted me. It was not long after this, before my travels began. My step-grandfather carried me to the country, and there I was placed at school, or rather went to school, at the distance of two or three miles. I soon learned to speak the German language like the rest of the family, that is to say, not in its greatest purity. The good old squire was very fond of me, and once, when my fingers and toes were frostbitten in coming from school, took me to his distillery, and thawed them by immersion in cold water. I will here, by way of parenthesis, stop to relate