A
Journey to Ohio
in 1810

As Recorded in the Journal of
Margaret van Horn Dwight

Edited with an Introduction by
Max Farrand

New Haven
Yale University Press

Copyright, 1912, by Yale University Press
Printed in the United States of America

First published, October, 1912
Second printing, December, 1912
Third printing, December, 1913
Fourth printing, April, 1920
Fifth printing, October, 1933

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (except by reviewers for the public press), without written permission from the publishers.

INTRODUCTION

"If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue;" and Rosalind might well have added that a good story needs no prologue. The present journal is complete in itself, and it is such a perfect gem, that it seems a pity to mar its beauty by giving it any but the simplest setting. There are many readers, however, with enough human interest to wish to know who Rosalind really was, and to be assured that she "married and lived happily ever after." That is the reason for this introduction.

Margaret Van Horn Dwight was born on December 29, 1790. She was the daughter of Doctor Maurice William Dwight, a brother of President Timothy Dwight of Yale, and Margaret (DeWitt) Dwight. The death of her father in 1796, and the subsequent marriage of her mother, was probably the reason for Margaret Dwight being taken by her grandmother, Mary Edwards Dwight, a daughter of Jonathan Edwards, who trained her as her own child in her family in Northampton. The death of her grandmother, February 7, 1807, was the occasion of her going to live in New Haven in the family of her aunt, Elizabeth Dwight, who had married William Walton Woolsey, and whose son was President Theodore Woolsey.

Three years later, in 1810, Margaret Dwight left New Haven to go to her cousins in Warren, Ohio. It was doubtless there that she met Mr. Bell, whom she married, December 17, 1811, a year after her arrival. William Bell, Jr., was born in Ireland, February 11, 1781, and after 1815 he was a wholesale merchant in Pittsburgh.

The family genealogy formally records that Margaret Dwight Bell became the mother of thirteen children, that she died on October 9, 1834, and that she was "a lady of remarkable sweetness and excellence, and devotedly religious." Family tradition adds a personal touch in relating that her home was a center of hospitality and that she herself was active and very vivacious.

The journal of the rough wagon trip to Ohio in 1810 was evidently kept by Margaret Dwight in fulfilment of a promise to her cousin, Elizabeth Woolsey, to whom it was sent as soon as the journey was over. A good many years later the journal was given to a son of the author, and the original is now in the possession of a granddaughter, Miss Katharine Reynolds Wishart of Waterford, Pennsylvania. It has been well cared for and is in excellent condition, except that the first two pages are missing. This is of less importance from the fact that two independent copies had been made. The text of the journal here printed is taken from the original manuscript, and is reproduced as accurately as typographical devices permit.

Max Farrand.

A JOURNEY TO OHIO

Milford Friday Eve. at Capt Pond's.

Shall I commence my journal, my dear Elizabeth, with a description of the pain I felt at taking leave of all my friends, or shall I leave you to imagine?—The afternoon has been spent by me in the most painful reflections & in almost total silence by my companions- I have thought of a thousand things unsaid, a thousand kindnesses unpaid with thanks that I ought to have remembered more seasonably; and the neglect of which causes me many uneasy feelings- my neglecting to take leave of Sally, has had the same effect- I hope she did not feel hurt by it, for it proceeded from no want of gratitude for her kindness to me. I did not imagine parting with any friend could be so distressing as I found leaving your Mama. I did not know till then, how much I loved her & could I at that moment have retraced my steps! but it was too late to repent— Deacon Wolcott & his wife are very kind, obliging, people, & Miss Wolcott is a very pleasant companion, I do not know what I should do without her. We came on to Butler's this afternoon & I came immediately down to Uncle Pond's & drank tea. Miss W. came with me & both Uncle & Aunt invited her to stay and sleep with me, which she accordingly did. Cousin Patty has been with me, to say good bye, to all my friends, & to-morrow we proceed to Stamford.

Sat. night, D. Nash's Inn. Middlesex-

We had a cold, unsociable ride today, each one of us being occupied in thinking of the friends we had left behind & of the distance, which was every moment increasing, between them & us. Mrs W has left an aged father in the last stages of consumption, that was a sufficient excuse for silence on her part. Mr W. made several attempts to dispel & by kind words & phebeish[A] looks but without success; he appears to be a very fond husband. We stopt to eat oats at a Tavern in Fairfield, West Farms, an old Lady came into the room where Miss W. (whose name, by the way, is Susan, not Hannah, Sally, or Abby) & we were sitting. "Well! Gals where are you going?" "To New Connecticut" "You bant tho- To New Connecticut? Why what a long journey! do you ever expect to get there? How far is it?" "Near 600 miles" "Well Gals, you Gals & your husbands with you?" "No Ma'am"- "Not got your husbands! Well I don't know- they say there's wild Indians there!" The poor woman was then call'd out to her daughter (the mistress of the house) who she told us has been ill five months with a swelling & she had come that afternoon to see it launch'd by the Physicians who were then in the house— She went out but soon return'd & told us they were "cutting her poor child all to pieces"- She did not know but she should as lieve see a wild Indian as to see that scene over again— I felt very sorry for the poor old Lady- I could not help smiling at the comparison. The country we pass thro' till we are beyond N. York, I need not describe to you, nor indeed could I; for I am attended by a very unpleasant tho' not uncommon, companion- one to whom I have bow'd in subjection ever since I left you-Pride— It has entirely prevented my seeing the country lest I should be known— You will cry "for shame" & so did I but it did no good- I could neither shame nor reason it away, & so I suppose it will attend me to the mountains, then I am sure it will bid me adieu- "for you know the proverb" 'pride dwelleth not among the mountains'- I don't certainly know where this proverb is to be found, but Julia can tell you- for if I mistake not it is on the next page to "There is nothing sweet" &c- I do not find it so unpleasant riding in a waggon as I expected-nor am I very much fatigued with it- but four weeks to ride all the time, is fatigueing to think of- We came on to Nash's tavern where we found no company