On this point stood the old French fort known by the name of Fort Du Quesne, which was evacuated and blown up by the French in the campaign of the British under Gen. Forbes. The appearance of the ditch and mound, with the salient angles and bastions still remains, so as to prevent that perfect level of the ground which otherwise would exist. It has been long overgrown with the finest verdure, and depastured on by cattle; but since the town has been laid out it has been enclosed, and buildings are erected. river, where the present town is placed; yet it is a most delightful grove of oak, cherry and walnut trees: but we return and take a view of the Monongahela on the southern side of the town. This bank is closely set with buildings for the distance of near half a mile, and behind this range the town chiefly lies, falling back on the plains between the two rivers. To the eastward is Grant's hill, a beautiful rising ground, discovering marks of ancient cultivation; the forest having long ago withdrawn, and shown the head and brow beset with green and flowers. From this hill two chrystal fountains issue, which in the heat of summer continue with a limpid eurrent to refresh the taste. It is pleasant to celebrate a festival on the summit of this ground. In the year 1781 a bower had been erected, covered with green shrubs. The sons and daughters of the day assembling, joined in the festivity, viewing the rivers at a distance, and listening to the mu sic of the military on the plain beneath them. When the moonlight rising from the east, had softened into grey, the prospect, a lofty pile of wood enflamed, with pyramidal rising, illuminated both the rivers and the town, which far around reflected brightness. Approaching in the appearance of a river god, a swain begirt with weeds natural to these streams, and crowned with leaves of the sugar tree, hailed us, and gave prophetic hints of the grandeur of our future empire. His words I remember not, but it seemed to me for a moment, that the mystic agency of deities well known in Greece and Rome, was not a fable; but that powers unseen haunt the woods and rivers, who take part in the affairs of mortals, and are pleased with the celebration of events that spring from great achievements and from virtue. Just above these works is the present garrison, built by Gen. Stanwix, and is said to have cost the crown of Britain £60,000. Be that as it may, it has been a work of great labor and of little use-for, situated on a plain, | it is commanded by heights and rising grounds on every side, and some at less than the distance of a mile. The fortification is regular, constructed according to the rules of art, and about three years ago, put into good repair by Gen. Irwin who commanded at this post. It has the advantage of an excellent magazine, built of stone; but the time is come, and it is hoped will not again return, when the use of this garrison is at an end. There is a line of posts below it on the Ohio river, to the distance of three hundred miles. The savages come to this place, for trade, not for war; and any future contest that we may have with them, will be on the heads of the more northern rivers that fall into the Mississippi. The bank of the Allegheny river, on the north-west side of the town of Pittsburg, is planted with an orchard of apple trees, with some pear trees intermixed. These were brought, it is said, and planted by a British officer who commanded at this place early on the first occupation of it by the crown of England. He has deserved the thanks of those who have since enjoyed it, as the fruit is excellent, and the trees bear in abundance every year. Near the garrison on the Allegheny bank, were formerly what were called the king's and artillery garland Scotch troops, beat a reveille a little after sunrise dens, delightful spots, cultivated highly to usefulness and pleasure, the soil favoring the growth of plants and flowers, equal with any on the globe. Over this ground the ancient herbs and plants springing up underneath the foot, it is delightful still to walk, covered with the orchard shade. On the margin of this river once stood a row of houses, elegant and neat, and not unworthy of the European taste, but have been swept away in the course of time, some for the purpose of forming an opening to the river from the garrison, that the artillery might incommode the enemy approaching and deprived of shelter; some torn away by the fury of the rising river, indignant of too near a pressure on its banks. These buildings were the receptacles of the ancient Indian trade, which, coming from the westward, centred in this quarter: but of these buildings, like decayed monuments of grandeur, no trace remains. Those who, 20 years ago, saw them flourish, can only say, here they stood. From the verdant walk on the margin of this beautiful river, you have a view of an island about a mile above, round which the river twines with a resplendent brightness; gliding on the eastern bank, it would wish to keep a straight direction, once supposed to be its course: but thrown beneath, it modestly submits and falls towards the town. When the poet comes with his enchanting song to pour his magic numbers on this scene, this little island may aspire to live with those in the Egean sea, where the song of Homer drew the image of delight, or where the Cam or Isis embracing in their bosoms gems like these, are sung by Milton, father of the mod This is the hill, and from whence it takes its rame, where in the war which terminated in the year 1763.Grant advancing with about 800 Caledonians or Highto the French garrison, who, accompanied with a number of savages, sallied out and flanking him unseen from the bottom on the left and right then covered with wood, ascended the hill, tomahawked and cut his troops to pieces, and made Grant himself prisoner. Bones and weapons are yet found on the hill, the bones white with the weather; the weapons covered with rust. On the summit of this hill is.a mound of earth, suppcsed to be a catacomb or ancient burying place of the savages. There can be no doubt of this, as on the opening some of the like tumuli or hills of earth, bones are found. In places where stones are plenty, these mounds are raised of stones, and skeletons are found in them.To the north-east of Grant's hill, there is one still higher at the distance of about a quarter of a mile, which is called the Quarry hill, from the excellent stone quarry that has been opened in it. From this hill there is an easy descent the whole way to the town, and an excellent smooth road, so that the stones can be easily procured to erect any building at Pittsburg. From the Quarry-hill you have a view of four or five miles of the Allegheny river, along which lies a fine bottom, and in high cultivation, with different inclosures and farm-houses; the river winding through the whole prospect. This hill would seem to stand as that whercon a strong redoubt might be placed. to command the commerce of the Allegheny river, while directly opposite on the Monongahela side, to the south-east stands a hill of the same height and appearance, known by the name of Ayre's bill, so called from a British engineer of that name, who gave his opinion in favour of this ground as that whereon the fort ought to be constructed, as being the highest ground, and which must command the rivOn the west side of the Allegheny river, and opposite ers, and the plain with the inferior rising grounds on the orchard, is a level of three thousand acres, reserved which the town is built. This hill has been cultivated by the state to be laid out in lots for the purpose of a on the summit by a Highland regiment; who built upon town. A small stream at right angles to the river pas-it, though the buildings are now gone, and the brow of ses through it. On this ground it is supposed a town may stand; but on all hands it is excluded from the praise of being a situation so convenient as on the side of the ern bards. the hill is still covered with wood. From Ayre's hill issue several fountains, falling chiefly towards the north, into a small brook, which increasing, 1829.] ANTHONY WAYNE. 279 encircles the foot of the hill, and takes its course thro' Warm Springs in Virginia, a place pent up between the several beautiful little meads into the Monongahela riv-hills where the sun pours its beams concentrated as in a er. On this brook, before it takes its turn to the Monon-burning glass, and not a breath of air stirs; where the 'gahela, in a delightful little valley, and in the neighbor- eye can wander scarcely half a furlong, while here we hood of some plum trees, the natives of the country, have the breezes of the river. coming from the Mississipwas the ancient residence of a certain Anthony Thomp-pi and the ocean; the gales that fan the woods, and are son, the vestiges of whose habitation still remain; an ex- sent from the refreshing lakes to the northward; in the tent of ground cleared by him lies to the north, accus- meantime the prospect of extensive hills and dales, tomed to long cultivation, and now thrown out a com- whence the fragrant air brings odours of a thousand mon The best brick may be made from this ground, flowers and plants, or of the corn and grain of husbandthe fine loam and sand of which the soil consis's, and men, upon its balmy wings. Here we have the town the water just at hand, highly favoring this object. and country together. How pleasant is it in a summer evening, to walk out upon these grounds; the smooth green surface of the earth, and the woodland shade softening the late fervid beams of the sun; how pleasant by a chrystal fountain is a tea party under one of those hills, with the rivers and the plains beneath. Nor is the winter season enjoyed with less festivity than in more populous and cultivated towns. The buildings warm; fuel abundant, consisting of the finest coal from the neighbouring hills, or of ash, hickory or oak, brought down in rafts by the rivers. In the mean time the climate is less severe at this place than on the other side of the mountain, lying deep in the bosom of the wood; sheltered on the north east, by the bending of the Allegheny heights, and on the south west, warmed by the tepid winds from the bay of Mexico, and the great southern ocean. As you ascend from this valley, through which a main leading road passes from the country, you see the Monongahela, and approaching Grant's hill on the right, you have the point of view from whence the town is seen to the best advantage. It is hid from you until by the winding of the road you begin to turn the point of the hill; you then see house by house on the Monongahela side opening to your view, until you are in front of the main town, in a direct line to the confluence of the rivers. Then the buildings on the Allegheny show themselves with the plain extending to the right, which had been concealed. You have in the mean time a view of the rising grounds beyond the rivers, crowned with lofty woods. I was once greatly struck in a summer morning, viewing from this ground the early vapor rising from the river. It hung midway between the foot and summit of the hill, so that the green above, had the appearance of an island in the clouds. It may be here observed, that at the junction of these two rivers until eight o'clock of summer mornings, a light fog is usually incumbent; but it is of a salutary nature, inasmuch as it consists of vapor not exhaled from stagnant water, but which the sun of the preceding day had extracted from trees and flowers, and in the evening had sent back in dew, so that rising with a second sun in fog, and becoming of aromatic quality, it is experienced to be healthful. The town of Pittsburg, as at present built, stands chiefly on what is called the third bank; that is the third rising of the ground above the Allegheny water. For there is the first bank, which confines the river at the present time; and about three hundred feet removed is a second, like the falling of a garden; then a third, at the distance of about three hundred yards; and lastly, a fourth bank, all of easy inclination, and parallel with the Allegheny river. These banks would seem in succes sive periods to have been the margin of the river which gradually has changed its course, and has been thrown from one descent to another, to the present bed where it lies. In digging wells the kind of stones are found which we observe in the Allegheny current, worn smooth by the attrition of the water. Shells also intermixed with these are thrown out. Nature therefore, or the river, seems to have formed the bed of this town as a garden with level walks, and fallings of the ground. Hence the advantage of descending gardens on these banks, which art elsewhere endeavors, with the greatest industry to form. Nor is the soil less happy than the situation. The mould is light and rich. The finest gardens in the known world may be formed here. The town consists at present of about an hundred dwelling houses, with buildings appurtenant. More are daily added, and for some time past it has improved with an equal but continual pace. The inhabitants, children, men and women, are about fifteen hundred; this number doubling almost every year from the accession of people from abroad, and from those born in the town. As I pass along, I may remark that this new country is in general highly prolific; whether it is that the vegetable air, if I may so express it, constantly perfumed with aromatic flavor, and impregnated with salts drawn from the fresh soil, is more favorable to the production of men and other animals than decayed grounds. There is not a more delightful spot under heaven to spend any of the summer months than at this place. I am astonished that there should be such repairing to the In the fall of the year and during the winter season, there is usually a great concourse of strangers at this place, from the different states, about to descend the river to the westward, or to make excursions into the uninhabited and adjoining country. These, with the inhabitants of the town spend the evening in parties at the different houses, or at public balls, where they are surprised to find an elegant assembly of ladies, not to be surpassed in beauty and accomplishments perhaps by any on the continent. It must appear like enchantments to a stranger, who after travelling an hundred miles from the settlements, across a dreary mountain, and through the adjoining country, where in many places the spurs of the mountain still continue, and cultivation does not always show itself, to see, all at once, and almost on the verge of the inhabited globe, a town with smoking chimneys, halls lighted up with splendor, ladies and gentlemen assembled, various music, and the mazes of the dance. He may suppose it to be the effect of magic, or that he is come into a new world where there is all the refinement of the former, and more benevolence of heart. For the present situation of PITTSBURG, contrasted with the preceding, see our present volume page 223. ED. REG. BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR OF MAJOR GENERAL ANTHONY WAYNE. [From the Casket.] (Continued from page 233.) In the commencement of this memoir, it is said that Isaac Wayne, the father of the American General, was a "man of great industry and enterprise" which was the fact. To agriculture, on a very extensive scale, he added a tan factory, perhaps, in its day, the largest in the state of Pennsylvania; this, together with the farm on which it was erected, descended, in 1774, to his son, the subject of this memoir; however, neither the father nor son were professional tanners. From the following memorandum in one of the General's legers, it would appear that if he had actually been a tanner, and no mechanical profession is more honourable, and had he personally pursued his business during the revolutionary war, he would not, in all probability, have sustained the pecuniary loss which it records. "Mr. Shannon has sunk for me since the beginning of January, 1776, until he went away, upwards of two thousand four hundred pounds in stock, exclusive of the interest for near eight years. Nor do I believe that he made much for himself, although he has certainly inju- March, 1784. [ОСТОНЕК their minds was such as would, probably produce a general resignation, I felt every sensation that could possibly take place in the breast of one interested, in the fate of this country. I dreaded the dissolution of a line upon which the fate I saw the train of evils which would inevitably follow; of America in a great degree depended. I looked forstate to which it would be reduced by the middle of ward to another campaign; I reviewed this army, in the January, when the mass of the people which now coming those engaged for the war, among whom few, very few of the Pennsylvanians would remain; having no peisonal or local attachments to detain them after the dissolution of a corps of officers under whom they had often, very often, fought and bled, and consequently loved and esteemed. But when, in idea, I saw your Excellency give way before a puissant and desolating army, experiat the head of a small and debilitated corps, obliged to encing the most poignant distress at the devastation which you could not prevent-these considerations gave a sensation which the nicest feelings and truest friendship only know the force of. While the British army was reposing in ease at New York, the officers occasionally amused themselves with writing comedies, interludes, and farces-and them-pose it would return to their respective homes, exceptselves were the persone dramatis. "Among others, they got up an interlude, in which Washington was represented as a surveyor, Greene as a gun-smith, Wayne as a tanner, and other American officers in different mechanical professions--all of whom were exbibited on the stage, in dresses, and with instruments suited to their respective occupations; for instance,--Washington carrying a surveyor's jacob staff of huge size, accompanied by a negro man, groaning under the weight of a compass, and dragging a chain more resembling one used by bullocks than a surveyor; Greene with a hammer, an unwieldy old gun and broken lock in hand; Wayne with a large currying knife, and a leather apron buckled round his neck, and extending down to his feet. This interlude was too good a thing to be lost; it was, therefore, as reported, carried across the Atlantic by a British Sergeant, who himself had probably been one of the personæ dramatis in America. At the instance of this son of Mars the interlude was got up in England, under the auspices of the manager of a strolling company, with additions, amendments, new scenery, decorations, &c. On one of the nights of its being performed, and just as the curtain was dropping to close this ludicrous scene, amidst the plaudits of the spectators, an American tar in the gallery vociferated, honor to my country, disgrace to old England for suffering their hides to be dressed, and their heads broken by American tanners and gun-smiths." This piece of well-timed humour bore off the palm of applause from the interlude, and "consigned it to the tomb of the Capulets." rhymes be yet remaining in the museum, with the perIf Major Andre's mission of Mr. Peale, General Wayne's autographical prose report of the successful attack on Stony Point will also be placed in that repository of interesting exhibitions. There were few, if any one of the officers in the American army, more valued than the accomplished and gallant William M'Pherson; yet rank in the estimation of the sentimental soldier is the immediate jewel of his soul, and even the most remote cause which, in his opinion, can affect it, is viewed with great jealousy; and this, unfortunately, was the case when Mr. M'Pherson, who held the rank of Brevet-Major, was honored with a command in the corps of Infantry, and in that part of it which had been drawn from the Pennsylvania line. The field officers of the line, under a conviction that this appointment was an infringement of the military rights of those who were fully commissioned Majors, not only remonstrated against the measure, but ultimately resolved to resign their commissions, unless immediate redress should be granted. For a full and satisfactory answer to the complaint of the field officers, the reader is referred to a letter of Gen. Washington, which appears in Rogers' "Remem brances," wherein will also be found a brief and handsome sketch of the life of Major Wm. M'Pherson. The agitation in which you must have seen me; the their purpose; my own, and the joint letters of Gen. Irindefatigable pains I took to divert the gentlemen from vine to you, independently of the enclosed to the field officers, must have convinced your Excellency that neither Gen. Irvine nor myself, at this alarming crisis, remained unconcerned, idle, torpid spectators. Yet there have not been wanting invidious incendiaries, capable of insinuating, as I am informed, even to some of your Exmand that I was fond of, I had, in place of preventing a cellency's family, that from being disappointed of a com most fatal disaster, endeavored to lay a train which,in its consequences, might have precipitated this country into ruin: the head or detest the badness of the heart of that man, I do not know which most to pity, the weakness of who knowing me, could be capable of sporting so base a declaration. those only whose condition in domestic life cannot be A conduct of the nature imputed to me is suited to worsted by any change of fortune; this is not my situation; I have, with your Excellency and others, every inducement to wish for a happy and speedy termination avidity seize the first moment when I can, with safety to of this contest. I now anxiously wait for, and will with my country, return to domestic life; a life that I am fond of, and in which I shall disregard envy, and escape those invidious insinuations which, I have ground to believe, have in other quarters and on other occasions been lately practised with too much success. attribute it to the feelings of a soldier, jealous, very Your Excellency's most obedient ANTHONY WAYNE. Tappan, 12th August, 1780.2 6 o'clock, P. M.S Gentlemen--Let us entreat you by the sacred ties of The occurrence above mentioned, gave rise to the measure recommended by us last evening, and however honour, friendship, and patriotism, well to consider the following correspondence between the Commander-in-your feelings may be wounded, reflect that ages yet to chief and Gen. Wayne: come may owe their happiness or misery to the decision your country's, that the same cause which affects the of this hour. Your own fate is so involved with that of one will operate on the other. Camp, Liberty Pole, 3d Sept. 1781. Dear Sir,--When I was first informed of the discontent which pervaded the field officers of the Pennsylvania line, on account of the appointment of Major MPherson to a command in the Light Infantry, it gave me much pain; but when I discovered the effect it had on ers, rise superior to every injury, whether real or imagiFor God's sake, be yourselves, and, as a band of brothnary, at least for this campaign, which will probably 281 on him, and in which General Wayne did most cheerfully acquiesce. In fact, it would appear that General William Irvine, being in command of the second Pennsylvania brigade, would of itself have reconciled General Wayne to that of the first; notwithstanding it might, in some measure, have been wounding to the feelings of honourable ambition to resume a command subordinate to the one which he had executed for a length of time, that of conducting the Pennsylvania line of the army, and subsequently to that, the handsomest and most honourable command in the army, viz: the corps of Infantry. Between Generals Wayne and Irvine there had long existed a remarkably strong attachment, which commenced previously to the war and only closed with their lives. The correspondence between those two officers was unreserved, free, and interesting, nearly the whole of which is missing; a circumstance which is much regretted by their friends. Head-Quarters, Sept. 6th, 1780. Dear Sir-I have received your letter of the 3d, and return you my warmest thanks for your professions of friendship. These are the more pleasing as I am convinced they are founded In the strictest sincerity, and I These two gallant men bore a strong resemblance to hope it is needless for me to tell you at this time, that each other, and when mounted on horseback, the one an equal regard for you prevails on my part. I am con- could, with difficulty, be distinguished from the other, cerned, however, that you should have, given yourself even at a short distance. Their ancestors had fought the trouble of writing me on the subject of your letter. side by side, as officers under King William, at the celeI did not want any assurances or any proofs upon the brated battle of the Boyne, as their descendants subsepoint, because I entertain no idea that you encouraged quently did on this side of the Atlantic in a similar the unhappy measure to which you allude, and which cause, and in the same line of the continental army, I wish to be buried in oblivion. Your former assu- and what added greatly to their honour, they shared rances, your anxiety to which I was a witness, the inte- largely of the confidence and esteem of the illustrious resting part you took to compromise and settle the Washington, who indulged them on every proper occamatter, were sufficient to remove any belief of the sort.casion with the privilege of acting as an independent I do not know with certainty the person to whom you allude, as having attempted to injure you, but from what I have heard, and not without much pain, it is probable I couid conjecture who it is. If I am not mistaken with respect to the person I mean, I can with the greatest truth assure you that he never mentioned a syllable to me in his life injurious to you in the least possible degree, nor have I any reason to believe that he ever did to any gentleman of my family. The bare report of a coolness which is said to subsist between you and the gentleman I have in view, has given me great concern, because I have a warm friend ship for both, and consider harmony essential to our interest. There is nothing, if he is the person, which would give me more pleasure than to hear that you were in perfect amity again. Let it be the case; let all differences subside; the situation of our affairs never required it more, and in the emphatical terms of your and General Irvine's letter, of which you enclosed a copy-"Let us all be as a band of brothers, and rise superior to every injury, whether real or imaginary," and persevere in the arduous, but glorious struggle in which we are engaged, till peace and independence are secured to our country. I am certain you will do it, and I will only add that I am, with the most perfect esteem, your friend and obedient servant, GEO. WASHINGTON. General WAYNE. Whatever unpleasant feelings General Wayne may have experienced on the subject of his address to the Commander-in-chief, they must have been of short duration. Indeed, it is probable that the reports which he heard had been so much exaggerated that, on closer inquiry, they ceased to give him any concern; however this might be, one thing is certain, that friendship alone is discoverable in his correspondence, both in and out of the army, during the remainder of the campaign of 1780. Scarcely a doubt was entertained that General Wayne would have been re-appointed to the command of the Light Infantry, had the army admitted of such a corps, previously to the arrival of the Marquis de Lafayette from France. This great and distinguished friend of the United States, whom every American did then, as he does now, delight to honour, was appointed to that command, it being the greatest military compliment which the Commander-in-chief could possibly bestow VOL. IV. 36 corps, the command as senior officer devolving on General Wayne. Thus, so far as circumstances and military etiquette would admit, General Wayne was still in command of the Pennsylvania line, with which he was, before the close of the campaign, fully vested; in consequence of that very excellent officer and worthy man, Major General St. Clair, having been appointed to the superintendence of the left wing of the army. In Rogers' Remembrancer of American heroes, sages, &c. will be found an interesting memoir of the late brigadier General William Irvine, to which the reader is referred. The Marquis de Layfayette, who, in January, 1779,, returned to France for the purpose of offering his services to his King, still retained his early zeal in behalf of the American cause, and exerted every means in his power to induce his court to send effectual aid to the United States. In this he most happily succeeded, and as no prospects equally congenial with his feelings appeared on the European continent, he returned to America, and about the middle of May, 1780, communicated to the Commander-in-chief and Congress, the pleasing intelligence that a French fleet, with a powerful detachment of land forces, might be speedily expected on the coast. This joyful news roused the nation from its lethargy. Congress, and the executives of the different states, especially the inestimable Governor of Pennsylvania, exerted themselves to make such arrangements as the crisis demanded, and the patriotic merchants of Philadelphia proceeded to the establishment of a bank, with a capital of about £315,000, to be paid in specie, if required; the object of which was to supply the army with provisions, &c.. The stockholders were to derive no advantage from the establishment; their credit and money were to be advanced for the benefit of the continental army; they asked nothing more than that Congress should pledge the faith of the nation for a redemption of the costs and charges of the institution in a reasonable time. These stipulations were entered into, and the bank speedily went into operation, and was productive of very happy effects. In addition to this, the ladies of Philadelphia most nobly and patriotically subscribed large donations for the immediate relief of the suffering soldiers, which' example was extensive followed. Yet those, with other sources of relief, fell far short of their objects, (To be continued) |