by a Scotchman, named Hanna. Within this distance we called at several others; none of which could furnish us a dinner. I call them inns, because this name is given to them by the laws of the state; and because each of them hung out a sign, challenging this title. But the law has nicknamed them, and the signs are liars. It is said, and I suppose truly, that in this state any man, who will pay for an innkeeper's license, obtains one of course. In consequence of this practice, the number of houses, which bear the appellation, is already enormous. Too many of them are mere dram-shops; of no other use than to deceive, disappoint, and vex travellers, and to spread little circles of drunkenness throughout the state. The government probably derives from them a small pecuniary benefit; but the purpose, for which the license is given, is frustrated. No inquiries, if I am correctly informed, are made concerning the character of those, to whom they are distributed. Not a question is asked, whether they are able or unable to entertain travellers; whether they are men of fair reputation, or of none. No system is formed, no restrictions are prescribed. The object is left to chance, and the licenses are offered for sale, as goods, wares, and merchandize. The effects of this negligence in the government of the state are deplorable. A traveller, after passing from inn to inn in a tedious succession, finds that he can get nothing for his horse, and nothing for himself. At the same time he is molested, by night and by day, by a collection of dram-drinkers, who offend his eye by their drunkenness, and his ear with their profaneness and obscenity; while they prevent or disturb his sleep, by the noise and riot of their intoxication. In many parts of this state, whether the object of the traveller be food or lodging, he must diligently inquire, at a sufficient previous distance, for a comfortable place of entertainment; and must shorten or lengthen his journey, so as to suit these indispensable purposes. If these evils resulted merely from the recent settlement of the country, they certainly ought to be borne without a complaint. Partially this is the cause. But they are chiefly owing to the multiplication of these houses, and to a criminal neglect of requiring the proper qualification, as an indispensable pre-requisite to giving the license. Were only one inn permitted, where there are now five or six, proper houses might usually be selected, sufficient custom secured to enable the innkeeper to furnish the requisite accommodations, and the traveller find a supper and a lodging, where now he can obtain neither food nor sleep. We at length procured a dinner, and finding no house at a proper distance where we could be lodged, concluded to stay where we were. Our fare was indeed bad enough, but we were sheltered from the weather. Our innkeeper, beside furnishing us with such other accommodations as his house afforded, added to it the pleasures of his company; and plainly considered himself as doing us no small favour. In that peculiar situation, in which the tongue vibrates with its utmost ease and celerity, he repeated to us a series of anecdotes, dull and vulgar in the extreme. Yet they all contained a seasoning, which was exquisite; for himself was in every case the hero of the tale; and the merum sal of Athens could not have been more delightful. To add to our amusement, he called for the poems of Allan Ramsay; and read several of them to us in what he declared to be the true Scottish pronunciation; laughing incessantly, and with great self-complacency, as he proceeded. For his ability to read in this manner I found he valued himself more than for any other characteristic; and he often declared to us, that he had found but one man in America, who could read the Scottish dialect as well as himself. The man, it seems, is a native American; and for this attainment only was held by our landlord in extravagant estimation. I never before saw a Scotchman, who did not possess a strong attachment to his native country. But our host appeared to value Scotland for no other reason than because it had given birth to so respectable a personage as himself. The road, on which we had travelled since we left Kaatskill, is called the Susquehannah turnpike. It commences at Kaatskill, and terminates at Wattles's ferry; is well made, but passes over ground too uneven to be pleasant. A new turnpike road is begun from the ferry, and intended to join the great western road from Utica, either at Cayuga bridge, or Canandagua. This route will furnish a nearer journey to Niagara than that which is used at present. The township of Sidney terminates at the river. That, in which we now were, is named Unadilla, and lies in the county of Otsego. It is composed of rough hills and vallies, with a handsome collection of intervals along the Susquehannah. On a remarkably ragged eminence, immediately north-west of the river, we saw the first oaks and chesnuts, after leaving the neighbourhood of Kaatskill. The intervening forests were beech, maple, &c. The houses in Unadilla were scattered along the road, which runs parallel with the river. The settlement is new, and appears like most others of a similar date. Rafts, containing each from twenty to twenty-five thousand feet of boards, are from this township floated down the Susquehannah to Baltimore. Unadilla contained, in 1800, 828 inhabitants; and, in 1810, 1,430. Thursday, Sept. 27th, we left our inn, and rode through Oxford township, and No. 15 in Norwich, to the north line of No. 10 in the same township. I presume also we must have crossed a corner of Jericho, before we entered Oxford; but, as I am ignorant of the dividing line between these townships, may easily have mistaken this fact. The whole distance was thirty-one miles. The first two miles of our road along the Susquehannah were tolerably good, and with a little labour capable of being excellent. We then crossed the Unadilla, a river somewhat smaller, but considerably longer, than the Susquehannah proper; quite as deep, and as difficult to be forded. Our course to this river was south-west. We then turned directly north along the banks of the Unadilla; and, travelling over a ragged hill, passed through a noble cluster of white pines; some of which, though not more than three feet in diameter, were, as I judged, not less than two hundred feet in height. No object in the vegetable world can be compared with this. The way, which we were advised to take, was an obscure path, crossing a tract which lay in an acute angle, formed by the common road. We were assured, that we should save five miles out of ten of our distance. About five miles of our way we had no other than a horse track; with the aid of which we crossed two deep vallies and two lofty hills, the last of them a mountainous height. Our path was alternately miry, rocky, and steep; so steep at times, as to oblige us to VOL. IV. C lead our horses. To add to our trouble, we were several times at a loss concerning our road; and, the country being an absolute forest, were unable to inquire. After descending the last of these hills we found the common road, on the margin of the river Chenango. Here we soon left the township of Oxford, and entered that of Norwich. In this part of our journey we passed through a corner of Jericho, and the whole breadth of Oxford; both of them in the county of Chenango. I have already exhibited the appearance of these townships in the parts through which we passed. The town of Oxford is built on the Chenango, four or five miles west of our course. It is said to be a pretty, flourishing village, of considerable size and business. Oxford contained, in 1800, 1,405 inhabitants; and, in 1810, 2,983. Jericho contained, in 1800, 939 inhabitants; and, in 1810, 1,608. Oxford is the shire town of this county*. The soil of the township appeared generally to be good. The remainder of our journey lay within the township of Norwich. A township in this state, you will remember, is a very different thing from what the same word indicates in New-England. There it denotes a tract, often less, and not very frequently more, than six miles square. Here a township is most commonly a considerable extent of country. Windham, for instance, contains more than one-third of the county of Greene; and Batavia, almost the whole county of Genessee; a tract little less than the state of Connecticut. To this mode of division the present state of population gives birth. As inhabitants of townships, the people of this state are entitled to a great part of the privileges and subjected to a great part of the duties which belong to its citizens. For this reason, whenever a sufficient number of persons have planted themselves in a given tract, of such extent, that they can act without serious inconvenience in the proper business of a township, such a tract is incorporated for this purpose. When you read therefore, in these Letters, that a township in this state contains several thousand inhabitants; you will remember, that the ground occupied by them is in • Norwich is now the shire town (1815). most instances of sufficient extent to form several such townships as those in Connecticut or Massachusetts. Norwich, through which lay the remainder of our journey this day, contains six squares and a large gore, or irregular tract, equal in the whole to seven New-England townships. The parts, through which we travelled, were Nos. 15 and 10. Our road passed wholly along the river Chenango; partly on intervals, and partly on the rising grounds, by which they were bordered. The surface was agreeable, and the road good. This river is little less than the Susquehannah before its junction with the Unadilla, and of considerably greater length. It rises in Cazenovia; and, running a south-eastern, southern, and south-western course, unites, after receiving the Tioghniogha, with the Susquehannah, between the townships of Chenango and Union. It is a beautiful stream. Two ranges of hills run parallel with its course for a great distance. Between them spreads an expansion, composed partly of declivities and partly of intervals, extending, after we entered it, more than thirty miles in length, and from half a mile to two or three miles in breadth. Down the river it extends many miles farther. The part of this valley, through which we passed, particularly the first twenty miles, is much more beautiful than any other spot, which we saw in our journey, except the valley of the Mohawk. The intervals, especially, are possessed of all the elegance and fertility found in those, which lie far up Connecticut river. These fine grounds are devoted to the several objects of cultivation suited to the climate, and bountifully reward the labours of the husbandman. By the hills, which are of considerable height, handsomely varied in their summits, and in several places finely tufted with groves of white pine, this region is, to the eye, sequestered from the world. Like the vale of Cashmire, it seems capable of yielding, within itself, ample means of happiness to a great number of virtuous inhabitants. At a future period, when the population of these states shall be far advanced, men of intelligence and virtue may, perhaps, seek a retreat from the folly, bustle, and vice, which haunt the residence of wealth and splendour, in the beautiful vale of Chenango. We fared this day much better than the preceding. |