University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER IV.

JOURNEY TO THE POKONO, AND THROUGH THE BLUE MOUNTAINS TO MAUCH CHUNK, IN THE COAL
DISTRICT, FROM THE 23RD TO THE 30TH OF AUGUST.

In order to make ourselves acquainted with the interior of Pennsylvania, and the Alleghany
mountains, which are the most interesting part of that state, we left Bethlehem early in the
morning, on the 23rd of August, in a light, covered carriage, driven by our landlord, Wöhler, who
was well known in all this country. Dr. Saynisch and Mr. Bodmer accompanied me. I left my
huntsmen behind to look after our affairs at home. The country was enveloped in fog, as had
been generally the case for some time past, till the sun dispelled it. We took the road to Easton,
where the fields were partly cleared, and covered with stubble, partly planted with clover, maize,
potatoes, and buckwheat, which was just in flower. The ground was gently undulating, with an
alternation of fields, and woods of walnut and oak. This country belongs to the secondary limestone
formation; wherever the ground was broken up, limestone was seen, and in the woods were
several limekilns, the produce of which was lying on the fields in large heaps, to be spread over
them for manure. Isolated farm-houses are scattered along the road. They are slightly built
of wood, many of them very small; but there are a great number of wealthy planters in this State.
The little gardens of these houses were generally planted with European flowers, and on the roadside
in the hedges, the kermes-oak and juniper abounded, and their berries attracted numbers of
thrushes. Horses and horned cattle are very numerous, and the first, which are often of a very
good breed, are left, day and night, at liberty in the meadow, and little trouble is taken about them.

The peasants are very bold in riding and driving, never use drags to their wheels, but drive down
the hills full trot. In the hot and dry season, this country is often in want of water, and even the
cisterns made by the farmers then become dry, so that the cattle must frequently be driven five
or six miles to water. This arid tract is called by the inhabitants, in their German language,
"das Trockene land," the dry land.

We now saw, on our right hand, the heights on the banks of the Lehigh, covered with verdant
forests, which we were again approaching. The double call of the Perdix Virginiana et
Marylandica, called, by the Americans, quail or partridge, sounded in the clover fields; the ground
squirrel ran along the fences; the red-headed woodpecker flew from tree to tree; and plants of
various kinds, Verbascum thapsus (great mullein), Antirrhinum linaria (the common toadflax),
Phytolacea, Rhus typhinum (Virginian sumach), Eupatorium purpureum, golden rod, &c., grew by
the road-side; the dwelling houses were surrounded with large orchards, and the apple trees
were loaded with small yellow apples of an indifferent kind, and immense caterpillars' nests
covered many of the branches. A great deal of cider is made, but the culture of fruit
seems to be, in general, in rather a backward state. The cherry trees, too, were covered at
this time with their small, bad fruit, which, as in Europe, was eagerly sought after by numbers of
birds. After travelling twelve miles, we arrived at Easton, a small town with a population of
2,000 inhabitants, the capital of Northampton county, situated at the conflux of the Delaware and
the Lehigh. We alighted at the inn with many country people, and immediately set out to take
a walk in the town, while breakfast was preparing. The streets of Easton cross each other at right
angles; they are not paved, excepting a footway on the sides, paved with bricks; the largest of
them runs with a gentle declivity to the Delaware. In a square in the highest part stands the
Court-house. The buildings in the place are, in general, only two stories high; and the most
interesting spot is the terrace, near the bridge over the Delaware. This bridge is 600 English
feet long, has three arches, is quite closed, covered with a strong roof, and has fifteen glass
windows on each side; it is painted yellow, and the building of it, like all similar undertakings
in the United States, was a private speculation, and brings in thirty per cent., a toll being
paid.

We crossed this bridge, and walked down the river, till we came opposite to the spot, immediately
below the town, where the Lehigh, issuing from its picturesque valley, between the rocky
hills covered with pines and other trees, falls into the Delaware. Near to the former, on the
same side, is the mouth of the Mauch Chunk canal; and on the other side of the Delaware
begins the Morris canal, leading to New York. A great number of men were busily employed at
this spot. On the banks of the Delaware grew Datura Tatula, with its purple flowers, tall Virginian
junipers, a verbena, and other plants; and the three-striped viper darted through the low
bushes.

Returning to the inn, we loaded our guns and proceeded on our journey. As soon as we were
out of the town, we went up the Delaware on the right bank, and crossed a bridge to Bushkill, a
picturesque stream, flowing between lofty shady trees, on banks richly covered with a variety of
plants. From this spot the way becomes extremely romantic and agreeable. It leads close by
the bright mirror of the river, which may be full 200 paces broad, in the shade of the dark forest
of plane, oak, tulip, walnut, chestnut, and other trees; and on the left hand rises the steep rocky
wall, covered with many interesting plants, which are protected by the shade of the trees. The
river soon becomes broader, and we came to isolated habitations situated in shady groves. We
stopped at one of them to send a messenger, on horseback, back to Bethlehem, where the drawing
materials, of which we had so much need, had been forgotten.

The rocks often came so close to the bank of the river, that there was scarcely room for two
carriages to pass each other: lofty forest trees afforded a welcome shade. In many places the
rock stood out. Dr. Saynisch struck off with his hammer some fine pieces of saussurite (Horn-stone),
and tale, with mica; but a slate formation soon succeeded, and we were glad that we had
taken good specimens of the preceding. Continuing our way, in the shade, by the banks of the
river, we frequently came to other steep rocks, till the wilderness again gave way to human habitations,
where we stopped at the White House to water our horses and take some refreshment. From
this place the country was more diversified. The road still runs by the side of the river, which was
animated by boats, and by numbers of ducks and geese. The Mudrun creek here issues in a very
picturesque manner, between high trees, from a small side valley. A little farther on, we left the
Delaware to ascend some pretty high hills. We proceeded along the side valley of Martin's creek,
in which there are some spots of marshy meadow, where the splendid Lobelia cardinalis, which is
usually found on the banks of all these rivers, attracted the eye by its deep red flowers. We
then passed a naked lateral defile, where stubble, and clover fields, and woods, which we saw
at a distance, reminded us of some parts of our own country. The road led over the heights,
alternately gently ascending and descending till we came to the little village of Richmont, where
we watered our horses, which suffered from the great heat, and ascended a considerable eminence,
on which there is a mean looking church, called Upper Mount Bethel. We then proceeded through
a more elevated plain, where, on the left hand, in a north-west direction, is a near prospect of the
Blue Mountains, which form the first chain of the Alleghany.

This first chain is said to be only 2,000 feet above the level of the sea; but it extends here
further than the eye can reach, and is uniformly covered with verdant, primeval forests. It runs
in the direction from north to south, and has no characteristically shaped peaks, or remarkable
forms, so that there is nothing picturesque in the total effect. With the exception of some parts,
especially the beautiful Catskill mountains, most of the landscapes of North America are characterized
by this want of striking outlines, and this constitutes the great difference between them and

the views in Brazil, where the mountains and the outlines of the horizon are almost always marked
by the most striking forms, as is usual in primitive mountains.

In the chain before us, we remarked an opening in a northerly direction, where the
Delaware breaks through; this is called the Delaware Water Gap, or the Delaware Gap. It
is twenty-three miles from Bethlehem, and was the place of our destination to-day. We were now
two miles from it. After passing the little town of Williamsburg, we saw before us, almost in
all directions, luxuriant verdant woods, and eminences rising behind each other. As our horses
hastened to the valley, the height of the mountains seemed to increase. At length the bright
Delaware appeared before us, and we soon reached its banks. The river here forms the boundary
of Warren County in New Jersey. On the opposite side we perceived a large glasshouse, managed
by Germans, called Columbia Glasshouse, where many who have possessed it have already become
bankrupts.

As we approached this defile, we observed a water-snake swimming in the river, which
suffered itself to be carried down with the stream, but disappeared as soon as we approached. We
procured one on the following day, as they are not uncommon here.

We had now reached the mountain chain, which rose bold and steep on both sides, and at
every step became more and more contracted. Just before the defile, or gap, is an inn, behind
which, at the distance of hardly a couple of hundred paces, runs the steep rocky wall of grauwacke
and clay slate, here the predominant kind of rock. This high wall is crowned on the summit with
pines, and covered at the base with various other trees, while the middle part is naked and rugged.
At the foot of the mountains are luxuriant fields and meadows, in which the fine cattle were grazing.
From this spot the rocky wall approaches nearer and nearer to the river, the banks of which, rude
and desolate, are covered with many broken trunks of trees confusedly thrown together, many of
which were still lying in the water. This is the effect of the rising of the river, and the breaking-up
of the ice in spring, which had caused more extensive damages in the spring of 1832 than on any
former occasion within the memory of man. Where the banks of the river are flat and sandy,
thickets of young planes often supply the place of the willows on the banks of our European
rivers. The plane—called by the German inhabitants water maple, or water beech; by the Anglo-Americans,
buttonwood, or sycamore—flourishes particularly near the water, or in low, moist
situations, where it attains its colossal growth in perfection. These young planes, on the bank,
were almost entirely stripped of their bark by the action of the water.

The inn, Delaware Gap, is supposed to be 600 feet higher than Philadelphia, and the steep
wall of rock behind it is elevated 600 or 700 feet above it. We might have stopped here for
the night, but, as it was early, we preferred passing the Gap. The road now led immediately
along the bank of the river, and then obliquely upwards on the steep wooded western rocky
wall. The savage grandeur of the scenery is very striking. The forest has underwood of

various kinds, where numbers of interesting plants attracted our attention. Picturesque rocks,
over which water trickles, covered with various coloured mosses, lichens, and beautiful ferns, stand
between the trunks of the trees, and form shady nooks, caverns, seats; while all the forest trees of
this country, mixed with pines, particularly the hemlock spruce fir, and the Weymouth pine, make
a dark wilderness that inspires a feeling of awe.

The valley of the Gap leaves the river just room enough to force its way between the steep
walls of rock; and, if you turn and look back in this interesting ravine, you see against a steep-wooded
height what is called the Indian ladder. There are several islands in this part of the
river, which are partially stripped of their wood by the action of the current, but some of them
have pretty lofty trees on them. At the distance of about a mile from the narrowest part of the
Gap, we reached a lonely house, where a man, six feet high, and very corpulent, came to meet
us; he was of German descent, and his name was Dietrich. He would willingly have received
us for the night in his small public-house, but there was no accommodation for our horses, and
we therefore proceeded on our journey. In a short time we reached an eminence, at the turn
of the rocky wall, where the solitary dwelling of a Frenchman, named Dutot, is built on a steep
rock, high above the river. From this place the valley becomes more open, and the mountains
less steep as you recede from the Delaware. A bad road leads over some eminences to a
large open place in the woods, forming a hollow, where the poor little village, Dutotsburg, consisting
of twelve or thirteen scattered dwellings, is situated. Here we took up our night's lodging in
a tolerable public-house, which is also the post-office for the stages, and is kept by a farmer
named Broadhead.

We had scarcely taken a little rest, when a poor old man entered, who was the first person
that had settled in this part of the country; his name was Dutot, and the village was called after
him. He was formerly a wealthy planter in St. Domingo, and possessed 150 slaves; but, being
obliged to fly during the revolution, had purchased a considerable piece of land here on the
Delaware, and commenced building Dutotsburg. He had previously lost part of his property by
the capture of ships, and his speculations here too seem to have failed. The property melted away,
and the last remnant of his possessions was sold. He had built houses and sold them, so that
he might be called the founder of the whole of Dutotsburg; yet, after all this, he is reduced to
a state of great poverty, and his situation excites the compassion of travellers who pass that way.

As the country about Delaware Gap was highly interesting to me, we remained here on the
following day, the 24th of August. We were early in motion, when the rising sun beautifully
illumined the mountains. Our guide, Wöhler, had accompanied young Broadhead on a shooting
excursion in the woods; the rest of us went different ways, each with his gun, till breakfast time.
Near the village, a small stream, the Cherry Creek, meandered through the thickets and meadows,
where numbers of birds came to drink, while the report of the fowling-pieces of our sportsmen

echoed from the neighbouring wood. After our return, I accompanied old Dutot to see his house
and his family. He himself had nearly forgotten his native language, and his family knew
nothing of it. We found in this house a delightful view into the ravine of the Delaware below,
and afterwards took the way to the romantic wild tract which we passed through on the preceding
evening. Several plants were here pointed out to me, to the roots of which the inhabitants
of the country ascribe great medicinal virtues; for instance, the snake root, perhaps Aristolochia
serpentaria, which is said immediately to stanch the most violent bleeding of any wound;
and, above all, the lion's heart (Prenanthes rubicunda), which is commended as a sovereign
remedy against the bite of serpents. Old Dutot related a number of successful cures which he
had performed with this root. This plant has a tall flower stem with many flowers, and large
arrow-shaped leaves; its root is partly tuberous, partly long, pretty large, and branching, of a
reddish yellow colour, and contains a milky juice. It is boiled with milk, and two table-spoonfuls
are taken as a dose. The swelling, caused by the bite of the reptile, is said speedily to disappear,
after chewing the root. The Delaware Indians, who formerly inhabited all Pennsylvania, made this
remedy known to an old man, from whom it was inherited by the family of Dutot. The latter had
himself been among the Indians, and gave me some information respecting them. They, as well
as the river, were called after an English nobleman, but they named themselves Leni Lenape,
that is, the aboriginal, or chief race of mankind, and they called the river Lenapewi-hittuck
(river of the Lenape). They are the Loups, or Abenaquis of the French, inhabited Pennsylvania,
New Jersey, &c., and were formerly a powerful tribe. A great part of them dwelt, subsequently,
on the White River, in Indiana, after they had been much reduced by the whites; but, in 1818,
they were compelled to sell the whole of this tract of country also, to the Government of the
United States, and lands have been allotted to them beyond the Mississippi, where some half-degenerate
remnants of them still live. They are said to have previously dwelt between fifty and sixty
years in the territory of the present state of Ohio. They buried their dead in the islands of the
Delaware, which are now partly in possession of old Dutot, but wholly uncultivated, and of little
importance. It is said that human bones are still constantly met with on turning up the ground,
and that, formerly, Indian corpses were found buried in an upright position, which, however,
seems to be uncertain, and with them a quantity of arrow-heads and axes of flint; but all
these things were disregarded and thrown away, nor had Dutot anything remaining but a thin,
smoothly polished stone cylinder, with which those Indians used to pound their maize. I was
filled with melancholy by the reflection that, in the whole of the extensive state of Pennsylvania,
there is not a trace remaining of the aboriginal population. O! land of liberty!

Our excursion was extended to the public-house situated on the other side of the Delaware
Gap, where we found a live specimen of the red fox of this country (Canis fulvus, Desm.), which we
had not before met with. Loaded with plants, and other interesting objects, we returned to

Broadhead's house, where all the persons of our party successively arrived, each with something
interesting. Some boys brought me the beautiful water-snake which we had seen on the preceding
day. Mr. Bodmer had taken a faithful view of the Gap, near Dietrich's public-house.

We left Broadhead's on the 25th of August, early in the morning. The place which we
wished to reach on this day is called the Pokono, and is the most elevated point of the first chain
of the Alleghanys or Blue Mountains. Our road led in a south-westerly direction, along Cherry
Creek, through a pleasant valley diversified with meadows, thickets, and woods, and gradually
ascending.

As we rose higher and higher over gentle hills, we met a disagreeable, raw, cold wind, and
reached, on the elevated plain, an isolated church, with a few habitations round it. On our asking
the name of the place, a person, pretty well dressed, said, "he did not himself know the name
of the place; the clergyman, a German, came, about once in a month, from Mount Bethel, to
preach here."

On reaching the top, we saw before us the highest ridge of the Blue Mountains, the summit
of which, as I have said, is called Pokono, where an unbroken tract of dark forests covers the
whole wilderness. We gradually advanced towards a more bleak and elevated region, where
pines and firs more and more predominated. On an elevated plain we were surrounded, as far as
the eye could reach, with woods or thickets of low oaks, from which numbers of slender, half-dried,
short-branched pines (Pinus rigida) shot up. These pines originally formed the forest—
the oaks, only the underwood; but the former have, for the most part, perished in the fires, with
which the settlers have, in the most unwarrantable manner, without any necessity whatever,
destroyed these primeval forests. On a part of the highland, cleared of wood, through which the
road passes, we saw a row of new wooden houses, and at once perceived that timber is the source
of the subsistence of the inhabitants. Boards, planks, shingles, everywhere lay about, and large
quantities are exported. Shops, where most of the common necessaries of life were sold, had
already been established in this new settlement.

From this place, called Chestnut Hill, from the abundance of chestnut trees in the forests,
the road declines a little, and you see, on all sides, numerous saw mills, which prepare for use the
chief product of the country. The outside cuts of the pine and firs were piled up in large stacks;
scarcely any use is made of them, and they may be bought for a trifle. We had to pass five or
six times the windings of Pokonbochko Creek, the banks of which are agreeably bordered with
thickets of alder, birch, willow-leaved spiræa, and the Lobelia cardinalis. A great number of skins
of different animals were hung up at the house of a tanner, such as grey and red foxes,
racoons, lynxes, &c., which led us to ask what beasts of the chase were to be met with, and we
learned that deer and other large animals are still numerous. Rattlesnakes abound in these
parts; they showed us many of their skins stuffed, and one very large one was hung up on the

gable end of a house. Some persons eat these dangerous serpents from a notion that, when
dressed in a certain manner, they are an effectual remedy against many diseases.

We had here a foretaste of the wild scenery of North America, which we might expect to find
in perfection, in uninterrupted primeval forests on the Pokono; we, therefore, did not stop here,
but hastened to the less inhabited, more elevated, and wilder region, where the mixture of firs in
the forest already began to preponderate. We halted, and took our dinner at an isolated public-house,
kept by a man of German origin, whose name is Meerwein. Forests surrounded the verdant
meadows about the house, in which woodcocks were numerous. In a little excursion in the
forest I saw splendid bushes of Rhododendron maximum, kalmia, Andromeda, Rhodora canadensis
Ceanothus, vaccinium; and in the shade of the first, Orchis ciliata, with its beautiful orange-coloured
flowers, which is found also nearer to Bethlehem.

The entertainment in this solitary house was pretty good and reasonable; all the inmates,
except one man, were Germans. If we had stopped for the night, they would have gone out for
us with their guns, as deer and pheasants abound in the forests. Having taken the opportunity
of forwarding our collections to Bethlehem by the stage which passed the house, we proceeded on
our journey. From this place the road continues to ascend, traversing a fine thick wood,
frequently crossing the stream. An undergrowth of scrub oak and chestnut is spread uniformly,
and without interruption, over the whole country, the pines, as already mentioned, rising above it,
most of which have suffered by fire; for in the dry season these woods have often been destroyed
by extensive conflagrations, which have generally been caused by the negligence of the woodcutters
and hunters. Even now, clouds of smoke rose at a distance, and announced a fire in this
great lonely wilderness. The high road is here carried directly through the forest; it is, for
the most part, laid with wood, covered with earth, which requires carriages with good springs.

When you have nearly reached the most elevated part of this wilderness, and look back,
you have a grand prospect. Lofty ridges rise one above another in a narrow valley, all covered
with dark forests, and, on the right and left, high walls of rock close the valley. We soon
reached the highest summit of the Pokono, or second chain of the Blue Mountains, which, as I
have said, forms the most easterly of the Alleghanys.

Mr. Moser, a young botanist, had accompanied us from Bethlehem, and I undertook with
him an excursion to a neighbouring lake, on the top of the Pokono, while Dr. Saynisch prepared
the birds that had been killed, and our other hunters went out to look for stags and woodhens.

We proceeded about half an hour along the high road, when we perceived the summit of the
Pokono, and then turned to the right towards an old decayed cottage, where oxen were grazing
among the thick bushes, and followed a scarcely perceptible path through the wilderness. We
crossed a valley, with thickets and scorched pines rising above them, where the ground was covered
with various kinds of plants. An old path led us half a league over an eminence; after which we

found a valley, where the lake, called Long Pond, is situated, surrounded by low reeds and rushes,
among pine woods and various interesting shrubs. On the narrow lake we found a small boat, in
which Mr. Moser pushed about to botanize. He procured in this manner the pretty blue flowering
Pontederia lanceolata, a red flowering utricularia, nymphæa, &c. Though this wilderness was
perfectly lonely, we did not see any water-fowl, and, in fact, very little animal life, so that the
botanist finds much more employment than the zoologist. The lake is about a mile long, has but
little open or clear water, and receives its supply from the Tonkhanna Brook. When Mr. Moser
reached the bank again, he called to me that he was very near a rattlesnake, the rattle of which he
had distinctly heard; but, though we looked diligently, we could not find the animal which we had
long wished to possess, because the ground was so thickly overgrown with plants. One of the
sons of Mr. Sachs, our landlord, had been lately bitten by a rattlesnake while fishing, and they
affirmed that he was soon cured by tea made of the bark of the white ash, which is said to be an
infallible antidote to the bite of serpents.

At noon, while we were all taking some repose, we were suddenly alarmed. A mink, or
minx (Mustela vison), a small beast of prey, resembling the European lesser otter, had had the
boldness to attack, in broad daylight, the poultry that were about the house, and was shot. Our
hunters had had no success, a single pheasant being all they had procured.

In the afternoon Mr. Bodmer joined us, having been driven hither by Broadhead. We immediately
went out to look in the neighbourhood of the Sand springs[1] for a bear-trap, with an iron
plate fastened to a chain, which was carefully covered up and concealed. Mr. Moser, who thought
he could find the place, led us astray, but we amused ourselves with the interesting vegetation.

We made but little addition to our ornithological collections, scarcely anything having been
killed but the whip-poor-will (Caprimulgus Virginianus), which is very numerous in all these
forests. Day had scarcely dawned on the 17th of August, when our whole company was in
motion to go seven miles to the house of another Sachs (a near relation of our host), whose
widow lived there. For about a mile the wood retains the same character, the firs then attain a
greater height, and are closer together. The wood had been cleared around some houses, and
Phytolacea, Verbascum, and Rhus typhinum, which occupy all the uncultivated spots in Pennsylvania,
immediately sprang up. The small habitations were built entirely of wood, and generally painted
a reddish brown. In some places we observed traces of fire: the low scrub oaks were scorched
and black, and were putting forth shoots from the stumps and roots. At times we had an extensive
view of the mountains, uniformly clothed with dark pine forests, everywhere high tops and
ridges, and all around black woods. The Canadian and the Virginian pine were high and close
together, especially in the valleys. The soil in this part is not very fertile, and requires to be
well manured. All is forest and wilderness, and bears, deer, and other wild animals abound.

The Tonkhanna meanders picturesquely between thickets, and the Lobelia cardinalis was in blossom
on its banks. Bull-frogs appeared here, as on the banks of the Lehigh at Bethlehem, and
the same species of butterflies as are found there. Not far from this place we came to a second
very romantic brook, the Tobihanna, over which a short, covered bridge is thrown, and about
300 paces further, reached the lonely habitation of the Widow Sachs, in a desert spot without
wood, where we were to pass the night.

Mrs. Sachs gave us tolerable quarters, and I immediately sent for the most expert hunters
of the neighbourhood, in order, if possible, to procure a bear or a stag. Three or four men came
who were ready to go for a remuneration. One of them had but a few days before, met with two
bears and their young, among the bilberry bushes, and shot two of them. I obtained from him a
fine large skin of one of them, and several interesting stags' horns.

The part of the country in which we now were was so lonely, wild, and grand, that we
immediately took our fowling-pieces to ramble about. The Tobihanna,[2] over which is the
above-mentioned bridge, thirty or forty paces in length (see Vignette IV.), is a pretty considerable
stream, and the surrounding scenery is extremely picturesque. It is enclosed in rather high banks,
overhung with fine, dark, primeval forests of Canadian pine trees, here called spruce fir, mixed
with isolated trees of various kinds, and with a very close underwood of colossal Rhododendron
maximum, thicker than a man's arm,[3] whose dense masses of foliage, with their dark green,
laurel-like leaves, hang down over the water, and are often mixed with the beautiful Kalmia latifolia.
Even now, the appearance of this dark thicket on the bank was magnificent; how much
more beautiful must it be when in blossom! The black forest of gigantic firs, crowded together,
rises in awful gloom, here and there relieved by the light green foliage of other trees. These
majestic pine forests have hitherto been visited by only a few settlers, and have escaped
the great conflagrations which have deprived the skirts of these wooded mountains of part of
their lofty stems. We were charmed with this North American wilderness, where Nature is,
indeed, less vigorous, and poorer than in the hot climates, but still has a striking, though very
different character of solemn and sublime grandeur. Mr. Bodmer immediately chose a place to
sketch the above-mentioned beautiful brook, while the rest of our party strolled through the forest.
Old decayed trees, often singularly hollowed, and roots of firs covered with moss, spreading over
the surface in all directions, hindered us from penetrating far into this wilderness. A dark, damp
shade received us here in the heat of the day, and the three-striped viper, of which there are

numbers under the old, decayed trunks, frequently fled as we advanced. Rattlesnakes are said to be
less common than in the parts which we had before visited. Birds were not numerous in the deep
recesses of these forests; only the hammering of the woodpeckers resounded in the awful wilderness.
In places where there was much underwood, very thick stems of rhododendron, often from
ten to twenty feet high, formed an intricate, impenetrable thicket. It was now perfectly dark,
and we found the most beautiful natural arbours. The Kalmia latifolia, too, grew to the height of
eight or ten feet. This country was so wild and attractive that I resolved to stop another day.
To the north-east of the solitary dwelling of the Widow Sachs, was a fine beech forest, among
the underwood of which pheasants were pretty numerous. We procured some of them, but I
could not yet succeed in obtaining a stag or a bear.

On the 28th of August we undertook an excursion to see the bear-trap, in which one of
those animals had been caught two or three days before. The man who owned this trap lived on
the road between the Tonkhanna and the Tobihanna, both of which flow into the Lehigh. He
had appointed his house for our rendezvous, where we saw the skin of the bear, lately taken,
nailed up against the gable end to dry. The saw-mill of our bear-catcher lay in a rude valley,
to the south-west of the road. We came to this saw-mill, in a solitary valley, on the Tonkhanna,
which rushes, roaring and foaming over rocks covered with black moss, between old broken
pines, in a true primeval wilderness. In this retreat for bears, prickly smilax, brambles, and other
thorny plants, tear the strongest hunting dress, and leather alone resists these enemies. At
every step we had to clamber over fallen trunks of trees, to the injury of our shins, which were
almost always bleeding. We found our guide, who, though it poured of rain, took his rifle, and
went before, to lead us to the bear-trap.

[ILLUSTRATION]

The trap was in a place rather bare of thick stems, between young pines, and made of large
logs, in such a manner that a young bear might be taken alive in it. It consisted of two round
stems lying flat on the ground, between which two others, which are supported by a prop, are
made to fit, and fall down when the prop is touched (See the figure). a is the base on which
the two logs, b, rest; c, the two suspended logs, which fall as soon as the bear touches the bait,
fixed in e, at the lower end of the rack f. The pole A, A, which is set in the rack f, rests in front
on the prop g, and supports in h, by means of a withe, the logs c, c, c, c. When the bear touches
the bait, the rack f moves, the pole A, A, becomes free, and lets the logs c, c, c, c, fall, which
catch or kill the animal. The whole is covered with green fir boughs when the trap is set, and
all the parts must have their bark on. The bear caught here, some days before, was about a
year old, so that there was room for him between the logs; and as he was not large, and had
entered the trap in front and not from the side, his life was prolonged a little. He was shot in the
trap, and his head used as a bait; we took the head away with us, and the owner of the trap
substituted a piece of the animal's lungs in its stead.

After a hasty sketch had been made of the bear-trap, we set out on our return; I very much
regretted leaving the magnificent wilderness. On the way we found a fine viburnum, with large
reddish leaves, and the Oxalis acetosella, which grew in abundance among the moss and decaying
trunks of trees. The loud hammering of the woodpeckers resounded in this forest, and we shot
the great spotted woodpecker of this country, which very much resembles our Picus major; for
dinner we had bear's flesh, which we thought resembled mutton.

When I returned to the house of Sachs, I found the hunters, whom I had hired, in no little confusion.
One of them, in particular, after receiving his wages for the first day, had remained in the
public-house the whole night and the following morning. Stretched at length on a table, he had slept
off the effects of his drunken fit, talked big, and found here a willing audience, a number of drinkers
of whisky being collected in this place. Brandy drinking is far more common among the lower
classes in America than with us; and here, on the Pokono, this bad habit was peculiarly prevalent
among the country people. Not far from Tobihanna Creek there was a small wooden house,
ten or twelve feet square, with a little iron stove (see the view of the Tobihanna Bridge), in
which a school was kept. The stalls for cattle, swine, and sheep, are, for the most part, cages,
the bars of which being pretty wide apart, the cold winter wind blows freely through them;
nay, many of them had half fallen to pieces. The swine, which ran about in great numbers, had
a triangular yoke round their necks to hinder them from getting through the fences. In all this
part of the country, garden vegetables are raised in beds, or rather boxes, filled with mould, elevated
on four posts. The seeds are sown in these boxes, and the young plants not transplanted
till they have acquired a certain growth, otherwise they would be destroyed by the insects.
Maple sugar is not made here, because the tree does not grow in sufficient abundance. The

chief occupation of the settlers, in this part, is the making of shingles, which are manufactured
from the Weymouth pine. We were assured, that these peasants steal the greater part of the
wood for their shingles, in the forests belonging to greater landowners, who live at a distance, and
have no keepers to protect their property. One workman can make in a day 300 or 400 shingles,
which are sold on the spot for half-a-dollar per 100. They are sent to all the neighbouring
country, in large wagons drawn by four horses. At Bethlehem, forty-two miles from Pokono,
the best shingles were sold, at that time, for eleven dollars per 1,000. These shingles are of two
kinds; the German, made by Germans, who first manufactured them in this way, which are considered
to be the best, and the English; the former are equally thick at both edges, the latter
thicker at one side than the other. Many persons, whose horses are not otherwise employed,
come here and fetch shingles.

On the 29th of August we continued our journey through forests that extended, without interruption,
on all sides. After crossing a bridge over the little brook called Two-miles-run,
we came to an open spot in the forest, where the great village of Stoddartsville is built on
the Lehigh, which at this place is still an inconsiderable stream. The environs of the place are
still wild. Stumps of trees, cut or sawed off two or three feet from the ground, were everywhere
seen, and this newly-cleared spot was still covered with wild plants. As you come down the hill,
you look directly into the street of the place, to which some neat and pretty houses give a very
striking effect in this wilderness. We continued our journey over wooded eminences, where
bears and stags are said to be still numerous. Having passed Bear Creek and Ten-miles-run Creek,
we soon reached the Pokono, or highest summit of the Blue Mountains, and began gradually to
descend. In the forests through which we now passed, the first began to give way to other timber
trees, and the woods are again more burnt and ruined, frequently consisting only of shoots from
the stumps of oaks, chestnuts, maples, and sassafras trees, with single pines everywhere rising
above them, as the palms in Brazil do, above the lower Dicotyledones.

On one of the next eminences, we came to another lofty point, whence we had the most extensive
view, backwards and forwards, that we had yet enjoyed in these mountains. Towards the
north-west lies the beautiful valley of Wyoming, through which the Susquehannah flows; and
backwards, in the opposite direction, a rude prospect of wood and mountain, where peak rises
above peak, and the eye ranges over an uninterrupted extent of immense forests. It is said to
have been ascertained, by actual measurement, that this spot is 1,050 feet above the level of the
Atlantic. Unfortunately, our time would not allow us to take a drawing of this grand prospect.
From this place we began to descend into the valley of the Susquehannah, where the woods
assume a more cheerful character, the firs being soon entirely succeeded by the oak, chestnut,
and other timber trees. The road resembles an avenue, overshadowed by lofty oaks, tulip,
chestnut, walnut, beech, hornbean, birch, maple, elm, nyssa, and other trees, growing very close

together. Here we already see the formation of the conglomerate—the precursor of the coal
district, which we now enter. When we had descended rather more than half way down the
declivity of the mountain, we were taken about 200 paces to the right of the road, to be surprised
by a beautiful prospect of the valley of Wyoming, or the Susquehannah. A group of rocks of
conglomerate rises, isolated in the forest, and, on ascending it, you have a magnificent view.
The broad and extensive valley, covered with towns and detached houses, alternates agreeably
with forests and fields; the river flows through its whole length, and at our feet lay the pretty
town of Wilkesbarre, the streets of which we could overlook. It is manifest, at a glance, that
the whole of the valley was formerly covered with a thick primeval forest, for strips of wood
everywhere traverse the fields.

Proceeding on our journey we came to a solitary public-house, where we met with a
rattlesnake. I bought it, and it was put into brandy, as a live creature of this kind is not the
most agreeable travelling companion. This snake had been kept three weeks in a box, and had
not taken any nourishment whatever, so that it moved its rattle but faintly when it was irritated.
As it was a very large and handsome specimen, I paid two dollars and a half for it. The landlady,
a very corpulent personage, was in a very light morning dress when she concluded the bargain
with me, and not being able to give me change, she immediately threw on her Sunday clothes, to
follow our carriage on foot, and settle the account at Wilkesbarre. Her head was adorned with
a large fashionable straw hat; she had a silk gown, and a silk parasol, which she might very well
have spared, protected her tanned face from the sun. It was remarkable that, heavy as she was,
she reached the town as soon as we did, though we had half a league to go. Wilkesbarre, in
Lucerne county, is a place with about 1,200 inhabitants, with three churches, a court-house,
a bank, &c. The streets are pretty regular, and the buildings separated by gardens and intermediate
spaces. The place has its singular name from the first settlers, who were called Wilkes and
Barre. The population consists of handicraftsmen, field labourers, storekeepers, and merchants;
and several of the inhabitants are interested in the important coal mines, situated to the west of
the road which we had taken. This bed of coals is said to extend fourteen miles along the slope
of the valley of the Susquehannah, and then to continue over other eminences, of which there
will be occasion to speak in the sequel. For the purpose of conveying the coals by water, a
canal has been dug, which was not quite completed, and which is to form a communication between
the coal mines and the Susquehannah. On the other side of the river the great Pennsylvania
canal is already finished, which connects Pennsylvania with Maryland by means of the
Susquehannah. This last canal, which is divided into several parts, will be continued to Baltimore,
the chief seaport, but it is not yet quite completed. Pennsylvania is already intersected by
numerous canals, which connect the rivers, and are of the highest importance by the facilities
they afford to inland trade.

The inn at which we put up at Wilkesbarre was kept by a German, named Christ, who
recommended to our notice some interesting points in the environs; and we, therefore, did not
take the usual road at the bottom of the valley, but soon turned aside from the Susquehannah,
into a wild, lateral valley, in which there are fine waterfalls. At less than a league from Wilkesbarre,
we reached, at the foot of the mountain, a wild, thickly-wooded ravine, where we soon heard
the roaring of Solomon Creek. Near a mill, the owner of which is a General Ross, this stream
forms some highly picturesque cascades over smooth, perpendicular black rocks, covered with
moss, forming a basin below, in a thick forest of pine and other timber. There are two cascades,
one above the other, of which the second is the largest; then comes the last and highest, where
the water, conducted from the mill directly across the ravine, falls perpendicularly, about the
height of a house, over a steep rock. It was, unfortunately, too late, when we arrived, to make a
drawing of this interesting scene. We asked for accommodation for the night in the mill,
which is a roomy house; but our countryman (this man's mother was born in Germany) could
not, or would not, receive us. They gave us some of the water of the stream to drink, which
had a strong taste of iron and sulphur. As it was not possible to find a lodging in the
neighbourhood, we were advised to proceed three miles to the top of the mountain, which we,
indeed, accomplished, but had nearly had reason to repent of our resolution.

The road ascends on the left rocky bank of Solomon Creek, in a thick forest, over rough
ground, so that we constantly had the steep precipice on the right hand. There was no room for
two carriages to pass; luckily, carriages are rare in this remote wilderness. As we had been told
that there was abundance of wild animals, we loaded our fowling-pieces with ball. We now
turned to ascend in a wooded defile, where a couple of solitary miserable dwellings, built of
trunks of trees, scarcely left room for a small field or a little garden overgrown with weeds.
While the road became more and more rude, and obstructed by the vegetation, twilight set in,
and it was only with the greatest efforts that our horses could draw the carriages among rocks
and fallen trunks of trees, and nothing but the greatest care prevented them from being overturned.
We met several peasants, with their axes and guns, returning from their work in the
woods: they were robust, savage-looking, powerful men, whose sudden appearance in such a
lonely spot might elsewhere have excited suspicion. There are no robbers in these parts; at
least, I never heard of any, but it must be owned that the place is extremely well suited to them.
The beautiful cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis) grew in such abundance in the swampy parts
of the wood, as to form a fine red carpet. The Chelone obliqua, with its white flowers, was
likewise very common.

At length the moon rose bright and clear to relieve us from our unpleasant situation, and
cheered by her friendly beams the gloomy path of the wanderer. When we reached the summit
the road divided into two branches, of which we were so lucky as to choose the right one. At

length, about nine in the evening, we had the pleasure of seeing a light; and a lonely house, in an
open spot, lay before us. On our knocking, the door was slowly opened. We entered a poor
hut, where two women—one an elderly person, the other younger—were sitting by the fireside.
The master of the house, whose name was Wright, was not at home. The two women were
very tall, and were smoking, quite at their ease, small clay pipes. They were not a little
surprised at so late a visit, but soon stirred up the fire, and set on water. Our frugal supper,
consisting of coffee and potatoes, was soon finished, and we lay down in our clothes on tolerable
beds, placed in a large unfurnished room, which in this country are almost always made for two
persons. This house belongs to Hanover township; the settlement itself had not yet any name.
Only English was spoken here. Not far from the house the Wapalpi Creek ran through the
thickets towards the ravine.

The night was soon passed, and at six in the morning we proceeded on our journey. In
order to take a view of the Falls of Solomon Creek, Mr. Bodmer left us, and returned to the mill,
with the intention of joining us again at Bethlehem, by taking another road. John Wright,
brother to our host, lived three miles off, in a little rude valley, where we intended to breakfast.
Some men, who were going to hay-making, with their guns and dogs, met us. The inhabitants
of these woods generally take their guns when they go to their work, as they frequently have
opportunities of killing some large game. They have powerful dogs, resembling our German
bloodhounds, brown or black, with red marks; or striped like the wolf, and sometimes, but
seldom, their ears are cropped. These dogs are used in chasing the bear or the stag.

In a romantic wooded valley we reached the solitary dwelling of John Wright, where we
halted. The mistress of the house, who, with a little boy, was alone at home, gave us a very
friendly reception, and prepared us a breakfast with coffee; all very clean and good for this retired
spot. In the course of conversation we learned that she was of German descent, and born at
Tomaqua.[4] She lived here in a pretty roomy log-house, with a chimney and iron stove; yet she
said that in winter it was often very cold in the room, the walls of which were, indeed, not quite
air-tight. In many rooms in these mountains we found two iron stoves. Leaving these scattered
dwellings of Hanover township, we reached, in five hours, the Nescopeck Valley, eleven miles
from our last night's quarters, the road to which is bad, little frequented, and in part stony, gently
ascending and descending, and passing through ruined forests, such as have already been described.
In some places the wood is thicker, in others the sides of the mountains had been quite cleared,
and were covered with young shoots and some higher trees; small streams, here called runs, flow
in the defiles and valleys; the bridges of beams over which were, for the most part, so rotten,

and in such bad condition, that horses and carriages could not pass without danger. We saw no
human beings or dwellings on this road, nor any animals except some small birds and frogs.
After this rather monotonous journey, we were glad to descend into the Nescopeck Valley, and
reached it, at the mill of one Bug, of German descent, where we refreshed ourselves with milk
and brandy. The Nescopeck Creek, a pretty considerable stream, which turns several mills,
flows through this beautiful wooded valley. This district belongs to Sugarloaf township, in Lucerne county.

After we had watered our horses, and the miller had questioned us about his native
Germany, we crossed the bridge over the stream, ascended the mountain on the other side, and
reached an inn on the summit, from which it is eighteen miles to Wilkesbarre. Proceeding from
this place, we crossed the valley of the little Nescopeck Creek, which is covered with lofty trees,
then passed the little Black Creek, and afterwards came to a high mountain wall, with a beautiful
wood of various forest trees, which the inhabitants, who are mostly of German origin, call the
Bocksberg. German is everywhere spoken here.

From the mill, the way leads through a thick underwood of shrub-like oaks, with a few
higher trees, and we soon reached the high road from Berwick, in the Susquehannah Valley, along
which we proceeded to Mauch Chunk, where two stage-coaches pass daily.

We took this road, and soon came to an inn, kept by a German named Anders, who likewise
had a saw-mill. The host had, a short time before, caught an old she-bear in a trap, and in
the three following days her three cubs, which he sold to travellers passing that way. The point
where we now were is called the Hasel Swamp; and, proceeding onwards, we passed Pismire
Hill, where rattlesnakes are said to abound. We observed, too late, a very large animal of this
kind dead in the road, one of the wheels of our carriage having crushed the head of the snake,
which was otherwise in a good state of preservation. My driver laid it in a natural position by
the road-side, and I have no doubt that it was again knocked on the head by some other traveller.
The marshy tract through which the Beaver Creek flows, is called Beaver Meadow, and is
covered with willow bushes. It is probable that beavers may have formerly been numerous
here, at least the place is quite suited to them; but those harmless animals have been long since
extirpated. We came next to a considerable eminence, called Spring Mountain, which we
ascended, and then rapidly descended, always through a thick forest, where we observed, on both
sides of the way, the Grauwacke formation. On reaching the bottom of Spring Mountain we
entered a wide valley, both the steep sides and bottom of which are covered with thick woods,
only thinned a little round the habitations. In the middle of the valley, directly before us, six or
seven buildings, in a broad street, formed the village of Lausanne, five or six hundred paces below
which the Quackack Brook flows through the valley. A Jew keeps here a public-house and shop,
where we met likewise with newspapers.

Beyond Lausanne is a high mountain, called Broad Mountain, up which the road is carried
in an oblique direction. Trees and shrubs form everywhere a very thick but ruined forest,
in which there is scarcely any serviceable timber. The view back over the extensive and wild
valley of Lausanne was extremely interesting. One can hardly fancy this sublime and rude
country without its aboriginal red inhabitants. The wide and hollow valley is everywhere
covered with dense forests; and the little village of Lausanne is scarcely to be seen amidst the
dark green foliage. On the Broad Mountain we find again the same formation of conglomerate,
which I have before mentioned; the beds of coal are at a small distance. On the side which we
descended the wood is more beautiful, the trees taller than on the edge of the mountain; oaks,
chestnuts, and other trees, were very vigorous and luxuriant. Several planters have formed
detached settlements here, among whom an Irishman was pointed out to us, who had lately been
arrested on an accusation of murder, but had been since set at liberty.

The Neskihone or Neskihoning Valley, into which we now descended, is wide, and enclosed
by very high, far-extending walls of rock, everywhere covered with thick woods, in which some
small cultivated patches are here and there seen. Along the right, or southern wall, an iron
railroad has been laid down, which forms a communication between one of the coal mines of the
Mauch Chunk Company, on the Rumrun Creek, and Mauch Chunk. It runs down into the valley
of the Lehigh, which it follows to the last-named place. The appearance of the valley is very wild
and picturesque; the Neskihone, which you pass at a saw-mill, flows at the bottom of it, and then
turns to the left into the beautiful valley of the Lehigh, into which the Neskihone empties itself.
The Lehigh comes on the left hand, out of a deep, extremely wild mountain valley, or dark glen,
the entrance to which is entirely concealed by lofty, steep wooded mountains. Its glassy surface
shines, half hid by tall shady oaks, beeches, and chestnuts; and the whole is one of the most interesting
scenes that I met with in Pennsylvania. The road from this place to the Lehigh Valley
is agreeably shaded by high trees, and on the banks of the river there are several dwelling-houses
and inns. In a quarter of an hour we reached Mauch Chunk, now celebrated as the central
point of the Lehigh coal district.