Dec. 26th. I pursued my journey alone and arrived in the evening safely in the house of Colonel Joseph Martin, •two miles to the right hand of Long Island and •one hundred and eighty miles from Salem. Here I found not the least appearance of the treaty which was the occasion of my journey. Colonel Martin himself had set out for the Cherokee towns on the 22nd; but his people believed that he was still with Mr. Harland,​2 an Indian trader, •forty miles from his home. I set out early on the 27th . . . This morning, I passed the north fork of the Holston river and came in the evening to Captain Amis'​3 where I met a young Indian trader whose name was Grantham. He was a very welcome man, for upon my desire he told me the names of the Indian towns and Colonel Martin's Indian name​4 that, in case Colonel Martin should be gone and I be obliged to travel alone, I could tell the Indians whom I might meet whither I was going. He also went with me on the 28th over the Holston river, which is here •a quarter of a mile broad, as far as Mr. Harland's. Here I found that Mr. Harland had set out with Colonel Martin on Christmas day. I was at a loss what to do . . . It was impossible for me to return without executing my mission . . . Towards evening I came to Colonel Smith's which is the last house on the road and where the wagon road ceases. He showed me the footpath to his father's​5 where I stayed all night.

The 29th. In the morning my horse was nowhere to be seen. I looked for it •two miles around but could not find it. A neighbor's  p261 wife told me that the same had happened to another man a week ago, and at last it was found that a negro had rode it a side way and then tied it to a tree. I was therefore obliged to offer a reward for my horse, and in an hour it was brought to me. I came till in the evening •fifteen miles, but my path became so undiscernible that I saw no other way but to return the next day to Colonel Smith's. It continued to snow very fast. I therefore made a fire before a leaning or bended tree, which was burnt hollow, and set myself during the night in that hollow tree where I was kept dry, but was dyed pretty black. The next morning the snow was of good service to me, for I had forgot to take my night's lodging near a water, and I could melt snow for my coffee.

The 30th. I arrived again with Colonel Smith, and was obliged to resolve to take a man and horse as guide with me to Island Ford on French Broad •forty-five miles hence, for which they asked three dollars.

The 31st. I set out anew with my guide and came in the evening to Mr. Jesse Gentry's​5a •twenty‑six miles farther. Between Messrs. Smith and Gentry there are about three or four new settlers.

The country from Flour (Flower) Gap hitherto is very hilly, on which account most of the plantations lie between two ridges, and are very narrow and long. But the wood, even on the highest mountains is very thick and good, and the land in the valleys is very fertile. Often I wished that we had one of their many limestone hills in our neighborhood. The people there make scarcely any use of it. Towards evening I went into a house to warm myself a little because it was very cold. The man whose name was Happert [Hubbard]​6 asked me about my business with the Indians, which I told him. He did not seem to be satisfied. He, however, bid me a forced civil farewell; but I was scarce gone a hundred steps when he called me back in anger and said he must know my business better, for as I was going to Colonel Martin I could have no good intention. I did all I could to pacify him, and assured him that I knew nothing at all of their land affairs, whereby I brought it at last so far that he dispatched me with some curses. This man and many others are such enemies to Colonel Martin that he has reason to be very much on his guard on his journeys, and that merely because he takes the part of the Indians and has effected it with the government that the country of the Cherokees has been confirmed  p262 to them by an act of Assembly, and will not suffer that the white people settle on their hunting grounds. But these people would rather like to extirpate them altogether and take their land themselves. They scarce look upon them as human creatures, which I could often perceive in their conversations.

In the evening I went to the ford of French Broad river to an island about •three-fourths of a mile broad. The river is but narrow; I tried to ride through it, but in vain, because my guide was not acquainted with it. He showed me the path to Captain Guest's​7 •three miles down the river, and then returned home. In the midst of the wood when I had lost my path I met the first Indian who in a very friendly manner showed me by signs the right road. He thereupon shaked my saddlebags, out of which I gave him some bread and meat, and it seemed it was what he wanted. With Captain Guest I stayed all night. His old father,​8 who is still living, was in the first times a beloved neighbor of Bethabara​9 and knew still the names of all the brethren who then lived there; he rejoiced also heartily to see once more a brother.

The 2nd. Captain Guest brought me over the French Broad river; the ford goes over an island belonging to Colonel Sevier containing •nine hundred acres and is as smooth as a meadow. Captain Guest told me that •eight miles farther up the river was another island of •eight hundred acres, and in the midst of it •a whole acre dug out, •eighteen feet deep. This round hole is full of water and the earth dug out so that in the edge still a ditch remained. On the top of it [the earthworks] was formerly a house of earth of which still something is to be seen. Over the whole island there is a ditch and a breastwork but the Indians themselves don't seem to know by whom or for what purpose all this work has been done. The common report is that once an Indian king had his dwelling there. In the evening I found a fine camp •eleven miles on the other side of Little river, where I could hide myself in a little hut from a heavy rain.

The 3rd. At ten o'clock in the forenoon I came to the first Indian house on this side the Tennessee [Little Tennessee] river, •one hundred and twenty miles from Long Island. One of them showed me the ford; I gave him a tobacco pipe and he explained to me by signs in which house on the other side, which is called Sitiko, Colonel Martin was to be found. Having got on the other side, I saw him creeping out of an Indian hot‑house;​10 and he came to welcome  p263 me in a very friendly manner, and, having read Colonel Armstrong's letter, he said that he would be at my service in my concern as much as he possibly could. He inquired in a very friendly manner about the brethren in Salem, where he gladly had visited long ago and intends soon to do it . . . He took me with him to his lodgings in the house of a trader, Mr. Springston​11 who was married to an Indian woman, but whose father-in‑law was not at home during my stay there.

12th. . . . Having forgot on the other side my tow and dry chips, and here being all wet, it was almost midnight before I could cook my supper. The wild geese and swans flew about me in great numbers. I could scarce get any sleep and spent the night in much perplexity, for the water grew higher and more rapid and roared beside me most frightfully. There is almost nobody living in the neighborhood of whom I could expect any help, and I saw before my eyes that I would not get over safely, but yet I believed our Savior could help me.

13th. I breakfasted before break of day and put as few clothes on as possible . . . Three-quarters of the way [crossing over the stream] it went very well, but now two large cakes of ice between which I must pass got hold of my horse and with a violent current down the stream till into a hole •twelve or fifteen feet deep, in which but lately a man was drowned. My horse which otherwise could swim very well could scarce keep up on account of the pointed rocks, on which account I was several times in water until under my arms. On the shore there was no place for landing, because there was nothing for rocks which are as straight as a wall and some are hollowed out •twenty feet deep by the violent current. At last I saw a little opening between the rocks where, to my good fortune, was also so much ground that my horse could stand in the water above his belly. I jumped down into the water, took my things off and tied my horse to a piece of wood fastened by the ice, and climbed up through the narrow pass, but which was too straight for my horse . . . All was to me like a dream, and now I had to run •three miles through the snow over hills, without roads or paths in wet  p264 clothes to Captain Guest's . . . Captain Guest and his family were frightened, seeing me coming without coat and quite covered with ice, and cared for me in a most loving manner and gave me dry clothes. I was so fatigued that I could scarce speak a word. Captain Guest and another man went to fetch my horse out of the water . . . by tying the bridle to a long pole and in this manner swim it to the ford, one pulling before and the other pushing behind.

In the fall of this year (1787) our presiding elder received letters from persons low down the Holston and French Broad, deploring their destitution of the gospel, and entreating him, if possible, to send them a preacher. These letters he read at a quarterly-meeting conference; and it was agreed that I should go and see if I could form a circuit in those parts. Accordingly I went. There are many things which rendered itinerating in that section of the country, at the time I went, peculiarly painful to a person like myself. I was still young in the ministry, and deeply sensible of my want of qualifications to act well the part of a pioneer; but, having pledged myself to go and having evidence that my feeble efforts had been crowned with some success, nothing could deter me from redeeming my pledge.

The winters are shorter and the climate less frigid in East Tennessee than in New Jersey; but sometimes the cold for a few days is intense. At these times, especially when I had to ford rivers and creeks at the risk of life, as I often had to do, and to lodge in open  p266 cabins, with light bed‑clothing and frequently with several children in the same bed, I was much exposed to taking cold, and traveling there on these accounts was rendered exceedingly crossing to my nature. But, in addition to these, much of the time my path was infested with savage men, the deadly foe of white men who had but too justly incurred their resentment; and more subtle and terrible enemies among human beings could not be imagined than were the native red men, incensed at the wrongs inflicted upon them by the whites. Several families and individuals had been murdered by them in places directly on the routes I had to travel; and once, at least, I narrowly escaped being murdered or taken prisoner. My course led through a fine bottom covered chiefly with crab-apple trees. I passed along very slowly, making my observations on the richness of the soil, the timber and grass which at that late season was yet green, and had thoughts of halting to muse a little in the grove; but, recollecting at the moment that I had heard a rumor about hostile Indians in that vicinity, I concluded not to stop, but rather mend my pace. I had now approached a lofty grove when suddenly my horse stopped, snorted and wheeled about. As he wheeled, I caught a glimpse of an Indian but at too great a distance to reach me with his rifle. I gave my horse the reins and hastened to the nearest settlement to give the alarm. I had been told that some horses were singularly afraid of an Indian. Be that as it may, I have reasons to suppose that the sudden fright which mine took at seeing one was the means, under God, of saving me from death or captivity.

At another time while I was preaching at the house of a man who had invited us by letter to visit their settlement, we were alarmed with the cry of "Indians!" The terror this cry excited at that time, none can imagine except those who witnessed it. Instantly every man flew to his rifle and sallied forth to ascertain the ground for the alarm. On coming out we saw two lads running with all speed and screaming, "the Indians have killed mother!" We followed them •about a quarter of a mile and witnessed the affecting scene of a woman weltering in her blood. It was what the people called a good sugar day, and Mrs. Carter, a brother's wife of the man at whose house we had met, chose to stay at home for the purpose of making sugar rather than go to the meeting, though it was in sight, and several of her friends had tried to persuade her to go with them.

The maple grove, or sugar bush was, near their dwelling, skirted on the side next to the river by what is called a canebrake. Here Mrs. Carter sat by the side of a large buckeye tree which had fallen down, spinning and watching her sugar while her sons were gathering wood. They happened at the time to be at a distance and in the direction of their uncle's house. The Indians were concealed in the canebrake and, coming up slyly behind the fallen tree, drove the tomahawk into her head before she knew they were near. The Indian who did the bloody deed was seen by the boys just as he  p267 struck their mother, but they were at a sufficient distance to make their escape.

While they disputed I withdrew to an adjoining room, hastened to the stable by a back way, saddled my horse and was out of their reach before they knew I was off. Thus I escaped the vengeance of infuriated men, but became exposed to imminent danger from another quarter. It was now near night; and I had •twelve or fifteen miles to ride in order to reach the first settlement. The river I had to ford was •fifty rods wide and filled with floating ice which in some places was congealed into large cakes, rendering the passage extremely difficult and dangerous. But my noble beast carried me safely over.

I had a very imperfect knowledge of the way, and as the marks of the trees were my principal guide, it was a matter of much doubt whether I could find it in the night. As I feared, it so happened. I took a path which soon came to an end. By this time I had become so chilled that I could scarcely keep myself awake upon my horse. I was apprized of my danger, dismounted immediately and ran to and fro until I became warm. After taking several cow‑paths which led into the forest from the river, all of which shortly came to an end, I concluded to throw the bridle on my horse's neck and let him have his course, and a little before midnight he brought me to the house where I wished to go. The night was so exceedingly cold, and the house of my friend so open, that he and his family had found it more comfortable to remain up and keep a good fire than to retire to rest. In this condition I found them; and never was a good country fire and a kind reception by friends more welcome to my feelings.​16

After getting our horses shod, we made a move for the Holston, and entered upon the mountains, the first of which I called Steel, the second Stone, and the third Iron mountain: they are rough, and difficult to climb. We were spoken to on our way by most awful thunder and lightning, accompanied by heavy rain. We crept for shelter into a little dirty house where the filth might have been taken up from the floor with a spade; we felt the want of fire, but could get little wood to make it, and what we gathered was wet. At the head of Watauga we fed, and reached Ward's that night. Coming to the river next day we hired a young man to swim over for the canoe, in which we crossed, while our horses swam to the other shore. The waters being up we were compelled to travel an old road over the mountains. Night came on — I was ready to faint with a violent headache, the mountain was so steep on both sides. I prayed to the Lord for help; presently a profuse sweat broke out upon me and my fever entirely subsided. About nine o'clock we came to Greer's. After taking a little rest here, we set out next morning for Brother Cox's on Holston river. I had trouble enough; our route lay through the woods, and my pack horse would neither follow, lead nor drive, so fond was he of stopping to feed on the green herbage. I tried the lead and he pulled back. I tied his head up to prevent his grazing, and he ran back. The weather was excessively warm. I was much fatigued and my temper not a little tried. I fed at I. Smith's and prayed with the family. Arriving at the river, I was at a loss what to do, but providentially a man came along who conducted me across. This was an awful journey to me, and this a tiresome day, and now, after riding •seventy-five miles, I have •thirty-five more to General Russell's. I rest one day to revive man and beside.

Friday, May 2. Rode to Washington,​18 where I met brother Tunnel on the way to Mr. C's. We have to put up in houses where we have no opportunity for retirement.

Virginia: — Saturday 3. We came to General Russell's — a most kind family, in deed and in truth.

Sunday, 4. Preached on Phil. II, 5‑9. I found it good to get alone in prayer.

Tuesday, 6. I had many to hear me at Easly's on Holston. I was much wearied riding a strange horse, having left mine to rest. It is some grief that I cannot be so much in prayer on the road as I would be. We had a good time, and a large congregation at K's.

 p269  Tennessee.​19 — The people are in disorder about the Old and New State: two or three men, it is said, have been killed.​20 At Nelson's​21 I had a less audience than was expected; the people having been called away on an expedition against the New State men; my subject was Hebr., VI, 11, 12. Rode to Owen's, and met our brethren from Kentucky, where I preached on Psalm CXIV, 17, 18, 19, with some fervor. Came to Hubbard's and Keywood's where we held conference three days, and I preached each day. The weather was cold; the room without fire, and otherwise uncomfortable; we nevertheless made out to keep our seats until we had finished the essential parts of our business.