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 briskly through St. Clair's Ville and Morris-town,[45] and a hilly country; all fine land in grain, corn, and pasture, with a beautiful clover face, white as with a shower of sleet; and abundanece of flourishing orchards full, above and below, of excellent fruit, although sixteen years ago all was wild, and a complete forest. In almost every orchard is seen a cider press, and under every tree large apples, so thick that at every step you must tread upon them, while the boughs above are breaking down with their overladen weight. It is here no crime for either man or beast to rob orchards. Land is worth from 15 to 30 dollars an acre, with all improvements included, and a market, as yet, for all surplus produce. At 30 miles' end, I rested for the night at a homely but comfortable stage-house on the road, with a young Irishman, Robert G. Ormsby, Esq. of Louisville, Kentucky, aged 21, of fine person and manners, and a fellow student of the celebrated Irish orator, Charles Phillips, Esq.[46] {172} He has been four years in this country with rich uncles; is a favourite with the ladies, and is now on his way to Pittsburgh, to marry a beautiful American with many thousands of dollars. "So general," says he, "in Kentucky is the intercourse between white men and black and yellow women, that soon it will indeed be difficult to know and distinguish who is who."

13th.—I started alone at three this morning, well