intelligent man.  There were a number of passengers, who, together with this commander, added to our social circle, and made it more agreeable:  among these, the chief person was Dr. Selman, of Cincinnati, who had been a surgeon in Wayne’s army, and who had a fund of information of this era.  My acquaintance with subjects of chemistry and mineralogy enabled me to make my conversation agreeable, which was afterwards of some advantage to me.

We came to at Grave Creek Fleets, and all went up to see the Great Mound, the apex of which had a depression, with a large tree growing in it having the names and dates of visit of several persons carved on its trunk.  One of the dates was, I think, as early as 1730.  We also stopped at Gallipolis—­the site of a French colony of some notoriety.  The river was constantly enlarging; the spring was rapidly advancing, and making its borders more beautiful; and the scenery could scarcely have been more interesting.  There was often, it is true, a state of newness and rudeness in the towns, and villages, and farms, but it was ever accompanied with the most pleasing anticipations of improvement and progress.  We had seldom to look at old things, save the Indian antiquities.  The most striking works of this kind were at Marietta, at the junction of the Muskingum.  This was, I believe, the earliest point of settlement of the State of Ohio.  But to us, it had a far more interesting point of attraction in the very striking antique works named, for which it is known.  We visited the elevated square and the mound.  We gazed and wondered as others have done, and without fancying that we were wiser than our predecessors had been.

At Marietta, a third ark from the waters of the Muskingum was added to our number, and making quite a flotilla.  This turned out to be the property of Hon. J.B.  Thomas, of Illinois, a Senator in Congress, a gentleman of great urbanity of manners and intelligence.  By this addition of deck, our promenade was now ample.  And it would be difficult to imagine a journey embracing a greater number of pleasing incidents and prospects.

When a little below Parkersburgh, we passed Blennerhasset’s Island, which recalled for a moment the name of Aaron Burr, and the eloquent language of Mr. Wirt on the treasonable schemes of that bold, talented, but unchastened politician.  All was now ruin and devastation on the site of forsaken gardens, into the shaded recesses of which a basilisk had once entered.  Some stacks of chimneys were all that was left to tell the tale.  It seemed remarkable that twelve short years should have worked so complete a desolation.  It would appear as if half a century had intervened, so thorough had been the physical revolution of the island.