Dr. Schoepf, the German savant, tells of the forest as he explored it in the vicinity of Pittsburgh in 1783: "In different wanderings on the other side of the Allegheny from Pittsburgh, we had the opportunity of observing the fineness and luxuriant fruitfulness of the soil in its primeval and undisturbed condition. The indigenous plants had a rich and rank appearance, and grew to a greater height and strength than they do elsewhere. The woods for the most part are entirely free from undergrowth, which is very convenient for both the hunter and traveler."2 Schoepf is telling of the land now the North Side of Pittsburgh. He saw the diversified forest of wildwood, river and small streams, but the time was twenty-five years after General John Forbes came to the Forks of the Ohio, and there were semblages of civilization, and a rude town already well known as Pittsburgh.

That one could ride fast through the woods, needs no proof to one who has read of the miraculous escape of John Slover, guide to Colonel Crawford in the ill-fated expedition against the Indians of the Sandusky region in 1782. Slover was captured with Crawford, and, tied to a stake and the fire lighted, was saved by the fury of a sudden thunderstorm which extinguished the fire. This was a bad omen to the Indians, and they put off the torture until the next day. Slover managed to work loose from his bonds in the night, and escaped. On the margin of the Shawanese village he came to some horses tethered, and, seizing a strong, active one, rode it straight away for seventy miles until the poor beast dropped from exhaustion. This feat shows that Slover could not have met with any serious obstructions. However, he had lived among the Indians, and may have picked his way. His narrative is that he kept his steed at all the speed it was capable of.3

More testimony of the state of the wilderness seems necessary, for the changing of the vast forest wilderness into the abode of civilized men is the main theme of this history story, the enumeration of the wonderful changes that have taken place within a century and a half in the region about Pittsburgh. These changes, with their concomitant events in the western country, came to those who witnessed them in startling remembrances wherein the romance of reality about them swept away the dreams of the forests of old. To quote that noted pioneer, the Rev. Dr. Joseph Doddridge, such "find it difficult to realize the features of the wilderness which was the abode of their infant days." Dr. Doddridge was a child of the forest. Though born in an older settled portion of Pennsylvania, in Bedford county, in 1769, he was removed in 1773 with his parents to the western part of Washington

2"Reise durch Einege," etc.; "A Journey through some of the Middle and Southern States of North America," John David Schoepf, M. D., 1783; p. 415.

3"Narratives of Dr. Knight and John_Slover," Cincinnati; "Early History of Western Pennsylvania and the West; I. D. Rupp, Pittsburgh, 1846, p. 216. "Incidents of Border Life;” pp. 145-147.

county, Pennsylvania, then under Virginia jurisdiction. Slight wonder he moralizes and becomes philosphical in his noted work which was published in Wellsburg (now West Virginia), in 1824, when he was sixty-five years old. Though this book is intensely interesting even to this generation, and is in itself an authentic history and there could and may be much taken from it to enlighten and corroborate, it is desirable at this point to quote only his impressions of the forest, the wilderness, he lived to see "blossom as the rose." No better testimony can be procured, nor is any more pertinent or instructive. He says:

To a person who has witnessed all the changes which have taken place in the western country since its first settlement-a person surrounded everywhere by the busy hum of men and the splendor, arts, refinements and comforts of civilized life, his former state and that of his country have vanished from his memory; or, if sometimes he bestows a reflection upon its original aspect, the mind seems to be carried back to a period of time more remote than it really is. The immense changes which have taken place in the physical and moral state of the country have been gradual, and therefore scarcely perceived from year to year, but the view from one extreme to the other is like the prospect of the opposite shore, over a vast expanse of water, whose hills, valleys, mountains and forests present a confused and romantic scenery which losses itself in the distant horizon.

Dr. Doddridge is looking backwards. Ruminating upon the many and astounding changes, he esteems himself a hundred years old, instead of sixty. He could say of events: "Some of which I was, and all of which I saw." He recalls the forest as he knew it: "A wilderness of vast extent, presenting the virgin face of nature, unchanged by human habitation or art, is certainly one of the most sublime terrestrial objects which the Creator ever presented to the view of man, but those portions of the earth which bear this character derive their features of sublimity from very different aspects."

Dr. Doddridge compares the deserts of Africa, the steppes of Russia, and the Polar solitudes, with the forest wilderness and the Valley of the Mississippi. After some remarks on the geography and natural history of the country lying between the Mississippi and the Appalachian chain, he proceeds with his description of the wilderness:

One prominent feature of a wilderness is its solitude. Those who plunged into the bosom of the forest left behind them not only the busy hum of men, but domestic life generally. The departing rays of the setting sun did not receive the requiem of the feathered songsters of the grove, nor was the blushing aurora ushered in by the shrill clarion of the domestic fowls. The solitude of the night was interrupted only by the howl of the wolf, the melancholy moan of the ill-boding owl, or the shrick of the frightful panther. Even the faithful dog, the only steadfast companion of man among the brute creation, partook of the silence of the wilderness. This discipline of his master forbade him to bark or move but in obedience to command, and his native sagacity soon taught him the propriety of obedience to his severe master. The day was, if possible, more solitary than the night. The noise of the wild turkey, the croaking of the

4"Notes on the Settlement and Indian Wars of the Western Parts of Virginia and Pennsylvania from 1763 to 1783 inclusive, together with a Review of the State of Society and Manners of the First Settlers of the Western Country," by Joseph Doddridge, Edition 1912, pp. 19-20.

raven, "the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree," did not much enliven the dreary scene.

The various tribes of singing birds are not inhabitants of the desert; they are not carniverous, and therefore must be fed by the labors of man. At any rate, they did not exist in this country at its first settlement.5

We are to give full credence to the statements of Dr. Doddridge in the conviction that he is giving us the knowledge of his own senses, that of a child of the forest clearing who saw the loved songsters come and the wild beasts go. He has much more to tell of the wilderness as he knew it. Perhaps it is well to follow him further for a proper understanding of the country about Pittsburgh before the white man came, and to dwell in imagination upon the scenes he describes. Fully comprehending these descriptions, the transition of the region to the requirements of civilized life that occurred within his lifetime, will seem all the more wonderful with the story added of the passing of the red men who devastated and ravaged the settlements-a shocking story of cruelty and savage warfare. Dr. Doddridge plays upon the imagination. He wants his words to live, to burn deep into the soul of his reader. We read his words in awe. Imagination responds to his call:

Let the imagination of the reader pursue the track of adventure into this solitary wilderness. Bending his course toward the setting sun, over undulating hills, under the shades of the large forest trees, and wading through the rank weeds and grass which then covered the ground. Now viewing from the top of a hill the winding course of the creek whose stream he wishes to explore, doubtful of its course and of his own, he ascertains the cardinal points of north and south by the thickness of the moss on the north side of the ancient trees. Now descending into a valley and presaging his approach to a river by seeing a large ash, basswood and sugar trees, beautifully festooned with wild grapevines. Watchful as Argus, his restless eye catches everything around him. In an unknown region, and surrounded with dangers, he is the sentinel of his own safety and relies on himself alone for protection. The toilsome march of the day ended, he seeks for safety some narrow sequestered hollow, and by the side of a large log builds a fire, and after eating his coarse and scanty meal, wraps himself up in his blankets and lays him down on his bed of leaves, with his feet to his little fire, for repose, hoping for favorable dreams ominous of future good luck, while his faithful dog and gun repose by his side.6

Dr. Doddridge is telling an experience—that of the explorer and the pioneer. Though the quoting of his words anticipates the coming of the white man and the era of permanent settlements in the region, it is necessary to a proper understanding of its geography and condition when the fearless explorers, typified in Christopher Gist and Daniel Boone, first saw the land; so too, the no less intrepid envoy, young George Washington; the martyred pioneer, surveyor and soldier, William Crawford; and a long line of daring traders from east of the Susquehanna, the Pennsylvania traders, among whom George Croghan was king, who boldly plunged through the wilderness and, embarking at the Forks of the Ohio, penetrated the Indian country, establishing

5"Notes;" Doddridge, p. 22. 6Ibid., p. 22.

their trading stations among all the tribes east of the Mississippi and north of the Ohio. There were other envoys also-Conrad Weiser and Christian Frederick Post, whose plain tales of daring and suffering ending in success, appeal most powerfully to the reader's sympathy; then the Moravian missionaries: John Heckewelder, Bishop Loskiel, and their coreligionists, who brought the light of the gospel to the Indians, and had the successful efforts of years swept away in a day by the vengeance of the frontiersman-a vengeance that ended in butchery. All these voyagers, like the coureurs de bois of the French, saw the wilderness as Dr. Doddridge pictures it to us. The story of each looms up in the mention. But to recur again to Dr. Doddridge's "Notes;" he continues:

But let not the reader suppose that the pilgrim of the wilderness could feast his imagination with the romantic beauties of nature without any drawback from conflicting passions. His situation did not afford him much time for contemplation. He was an exile from the warm clothing and plentiful mansions of society. His homely woodman's dress soon became old and ragged, the cravings of hunger compelled him to sustain from day to day, fatigues of the chase. Often he had to eat his venison, bear meat, wild turkey, without bread or salt. Nor was this all; at every step the strong passions of hope and fear were in full exercise. His situation was not without its dangers. He did not know at what tread his foot might be stung by a serpent; at what moment he might meet with the formidable bear; or, if in the evening, he knew not on what limb over his head the murderous panther might be perched in a squatting attitude to drop down upon and tear him to pieces in a moment. When watching a deer lick from his blind at night, the planther was often his rival in the same business, and if, by his growl or otherwise the man discovered his rival's presense, the lord of the world always retired as speedily and secretly as possible, leaving him the undisturbed possession of the chance of game.

The solitude of the wilderness gave rise to forebodings. Dr. Doddridge had experienced these, and relates his feelings and the experience of others as he heard them from the lips of the pioneers. Resuming his story, one may read:

The wilderness was a region of superstition. The adventurous hunter sought for ominous presages of his future, good or bad luck in everything about him. Much of his success depended on the state of the weather; snow and rain were favorable, because in the former he could track his game, and the latter prevented them from hearing the rustling of the leaves beneath his feet. The appearance of the sky, morning and evening, gave him the signs of the times in regard to the weather. So far, he was a philosopher. Perhaps he was aided in his prognostics on this subject by some old rheumatic pain which he called his weather clock. Say what you please about this, doctors, but the first settlers were seldom mistaken in this indication of the weather. The croaking of a raven, the howling of a dog, the screech of an owl, were as prophetic of future misfortunes among the first adventurers into this country, as they were among the ancient pagans; but above all, their dreams were regarded as ominous of good or evil.

Dr. Doddridge advises his readers not to be surprised at the superstition which existed among the first adventurers of the western wilderness. He opined that it was universally associated with ignorance in all those who occupy perilous situations of life, and instances the sailor, and the use of charms, incantations and amulets which constituted

a part of the superstition of all ages and nations. He cites the perilous situation of the borderers and the passion of fear excited by danger on this class of adventurers.

The forests were lasting. More than half a century after Doddridge wrote, there were vast woodland regions in Western Pennsylvania. There were others in Dr. Doddridge's years (he died in 1836) who told of the solitude of the wooded wilderness. Henry Marie Brackenridge one; exiled from his home in Pittsburgh at the tender age of seven to St. Genevieve on the Mississippi, in the then Spanish territory of Louisiana-Brackenridge will be quoted later on in this history, and his life story from his own writings given. He made the journey from Pittsburgh in a flatboat in charge of John B. C. Lucas, a native of France, subsequently a politician, associate judge, member of Congress from the Pittsburgh district, and later judge of the United States courts in Missouri territory, but when the boy Brackenridge was with him, was engaged in fur-trading in Upper Louisiana. The boy had slight recollections of the outward voyage. Ten days out from Pittsburgh, they landed at "Hobson's Choice," long since a part of Cincinnati, and, when Brackenridge was there, the seat of Wayne's encampment. The year is readily fixed, 1793. Brackenridge said: "I have no distinct recollection of the appearance of the Ohio river in the course of our descent, except that instead of being enlivened by towns and farms along its banks, it was a woody wilderness shut in to the water's edge. At that time, the fair city which now vies with the most ancient seats of civilization and the arts on this continent, was not. Excepting the openings and clearings made for the camp, the ground was covered by lofty trees and entangled vines."

In a few days, Lucas set off again, proceeding silently and as near as possible to the Kentucky shore, from apprehensions of the Indians. "How deep a solitude at that day reigned on the beautiful banks of the Ohio," exclaimed Brackenridge. It was a perilous voyage, but they went through in safety. Brackenridge did not remember the Falls of the Ohio at Louisville. It was spring, and the waters were high; the boat passed over the falls as over any other part of the river. He was impressed with the solitude, even at his tender age. He said: "From this place to the mouth of the river, about five hundred miles, the banks presented an unbroken wilderness, the solitude was not disturbed by a single human voice out of our boat."

Young Brackenridge remained in St. Genevieve three years, practically one of the French family in whose charge he had been placed by Lucas, who then proceeded on his trading expedition into Upper Louisiana. When Lucas returned, the boy had acquired a fluency in the French language, which was his father's object in exiling him the

7"Recollections of Persons and Places in the West," H. M. Brackenridge, a native of the West, traveler, author, jurist; edition of 1868; p. 17.