painted, is thrown across the Kentucky river, which, together with some public buildings erected with considerable taste, assist much in enlivening and adding beauty and elegance to the appearance of the town. Left Frankfort at 9 o'clock. Crossed the Kentucky river, which was only three feet wide, owing to the uncommon drought. Foot passengers were crossing on a rail. Passed through Shelbyville, a small village. Many creeks, rivers and branches entirely dry. Every animal suffering for water. The farmers compelled to cart a sufficient quantity to support life, many miles. No water to be obtained in the village for our horses. Fortunately we were enabled to purchase some on the road. Traveled twenty-nine miles to Smith's. Lands rich. Country broken on the old road. Deep valleys. Frightful precipices. Beech woods. Large trees. Good corn. Warm and dry weather.

Saturday, Oct. 31.—Left Smith's at 7 o'clock a. m. Traveled over a very rich and flat country. Passed through Middletown, and at 4 o'clock arrived at Louisville, after traveling twenty-eight miles. This day being Saturday, and having met some old friends and acquaintances, a party was made up to visit the Louisville theater. Philadelphia being the theater for all great performers, curiosity was on tip-toe to view the players of Louisville. The theater is a neat little building. It was but thinly attended, owing to the pressure of the times. The play was "Wives as They Were and Maids as They Are," Mr. Drake and Mrs. Grochong supporting the principal characters. Their persons, features, voices and gestures were fine, appearing to possess the nicest feelings and tenderest sympathies, and, in my opinion, they were well suited to a better stage. The play better performed than expected. Indeed, I may say well performed, if I may be permitted to add there was more than one of the actors who was unfeeling, unmeaning, made of wood and more like a gate-post than an animated being. This had the happiest of effects, for after shedding tears of grief at interesting parts of the play they were kept flowing with laughter at those ridiculous performers making tragedy into comedy. Louisville is a flourishing town immediately on the banks of the Ohio. The town and business principally confined to one street. The inhabitants are polite, hospitable and live fast.

Sunday, Nov. 1.—This day was spent in visiting a family near Louisville, friends of my youthful days, whom I had not seen for eighteen years. As I approached the dwelling, happy days that are never to return, pleasant hours, youthful, happy and blooming faces, joyous scenes and many dear moments, flashed suddenly across my mind. But judge of my disappointment on meeting the remains of this amiable family. I will not attempt to express feelings that in the human language know no description. Mrs. M——, a truly good woman, had been borne to that shore "from whence no traveler returns." Her daughter, who was the admiration of all that knew her, soon followed. The remains of the family which eighteen years ago was young and fashionable, elegant and beautiful, had become sedate, crooked, wrinkled and even gray. To witness the ravages of time produced a gloom which lasted several days. I took an affectionate leave of them, never expecting to see them again.

Tuesday, Nov. 3.—Remained in Louisville Monday and part of today. Left Aleen's the 2d. Passed through Shipping Port, on the bank of the Ohio, two and one-half miles below Louisville. A very promising little village. Twelve or thirteen steamboats lying at this place aground, owing to the unusual drought. Curiosity induced me to go on board the largest steamboat in the world, lying at this place. She is called the United States, and is owned by a company of gentlemen. I have taken down her dimensions: Length of keel, 165 feet 8 inches; depth of hold, 11 feet 3 inches; breadth of beam and girder, 56 feet; length on deck, 176 feet 8 inches; breadth of beam without girder, 37 feet. This mammoth boat has eight boilers and elegant accommodations for a large number of passengers. Many of the steamships lying at this place are built on improved plans and are very handsome. We crossed the Ohio at a point where it is three-quarters of a mile wide. Passed through New Albany, Ind., a little village inhabited by tavernkeepers and mechanics. Traveled to Miller's, a distance of six miles over the knobs. Country very much broken. Some steep hills and sugar-loaf knobs. The woods being on fire, a scene truly sublime presented itself at night. The lands indifferent. Weather warm and dry. Passed many travelers bound to the west, and met three or four wagons with families returning from the promised land. Slept in a house without glass in the windows and no fastenings to the doors. The inhabitants impudent and lazy beyond example. Supped on cabbage, turnips, pickles, beets, beefsteak made of pickled beef, rye coffee and sage tea. The people of Indiana differ widely from Kentuckians in habits, manners and even dialect. Whilst hospitality, politeness and good sense characterize Kentuckians, ignorance, impudence and laziness has stamped the Indianians.

III.—A Brotherhood of Cutthroats

Wednesday, Nov. 3, 1819.—Left Miller's tavern at 7 o'clock and arrived at Squire Chambers' at 6 o'clock, after traveling a distance of thirty-six miles. Passed a trifling village, Fredericksburg; also Greenville. A poor, barren, deserted country. For ten miles, stony, poor, mountainous and naked. Land a little better. Miserable huts, poor accommodations, cabin taverns, and high charges. Crossed Blue river. Every man his own hostler and steward. Plenty of game—deer, turkeys, etc. Inhabitants generally possess a smaller share of politeness than any met with before.

Thursday, Nov. 4.—Left Squire Chambers' (who is only member of the assembly, by the by) at 7 o'clock a. m. Arrived at Lewis' at 6 o'clock, a distance of twenty-five miles. Passed a little village called Peola. The fact that this part of Indiana is a late purchase by the United States, accounts for its towns being so inconsiderable and being made up of log houses. The lands here are very fertile, the country mountainous and broken. Traveled twenty-five miles through woods and passed but four houses. With great difficulty obtained water for our horses. In the midst of one of those long and thick pieces of woods, we passed one of the most miserable huts ever seen—a house built out of slabs without a nail; the pieces merely laid against a log pen such as pigs are commonly kept in, a dirt floor, no chimney. Indeed, the covering would be a bad one in the heat of summer, and, unfortunately, the weather at this time is very severe for the season of the year. This small cabin contained a young and interesting female and her two shivering and almost starving children, all of whom were bare-headed and with their feet bare. There was a small bed, one blanket and a few potatoes. One cow and one pig (who appeared to share in their misfortunes) completed the family, except for the husband, who was absent in search of bread. Fortunately for the dear little children, we had in our carriage some bread, cheese, toddy, etc., which we divided with them with much heartfelt satisfaction. In this situation the woman was polite, smiled and appeared happy. She gave us water to drink, which had been refused to us by persons on the road several times during the day. What a lesson for many of the unhappy ladies that inhabit large cities, whose husbands are slaves to procure all the luxuries of life, a fine house, carpeted floors, elegant furniture, fine carriages and horses, gay and cheerful company, and a