112 A JOURNEY TO 



and barren grounds, clothed with little timber, and refreshed with less water. 

 All my hopes were in the riches that might lie under ground, there being 

 many goodly tokens of mines. The stones which paved the river, both by 

 their weight and colour, promised abundance of metal ; but whether it be 

 silver, lead or copper, is beyond our skill to discern. We also discovered 

 many shows of marble, of a white ground, with streaks cf red and purple. 

 So that it is possible tlie treasure in the bowels of the earth may make ample 

 amends for the poverty of its surface. We encamped on the bank of this 

 river, a little below the dividing line, and near the lower end of an island 

 half a mile long, which, for the metallic appearances, we dignified with the 

 name of Potosi. In our way to this place we treed a bear, of so mighty a 

 bulk, that when we fetched her down she almost made an earthquake. But 

 neither the shot nor the fall disabled her so much, but she had like to have 

 hugged one of our dogs to death in the violence of her embrace. We 

 exercised the discipline of the woods, by tossing a very careless servant in 

 a blanket, for losing one of our axes. 



SOth. This being Sunday, we were glad to rest from our labours; and, to 

 help restore our vigour, several of us plunged into the river, notwithstand- 

 ing it was a frosty morning. One of our Indians went in along with us, and 

 taught us their way of swimming. They strike not out both hands together, 

 but alternately one after another, whereby they are able to swim both far- 

 ther and faster than we do. Near the camp grew several large chestnut 

 trees very full of chestnuts. Our men were too lazy to climb the trees for 

 the sake of the fruit, but, like the Indians, chose rather to cut them down, re- 

 gardless of those that were to come after. Nor did they esteem such kind 

 of work any breach of the sabbath, so long as it helped to fill their bellies. 

 One of the Indians shot a bear, which he lugged about half a mile for the 

 good of the company. These gentiles have no distinction of days, but make 

 every day a sabbath, except when they go out to war or a hunting, and 

 then they will undergo incredible fatigues. Cf other work the men do none, 

 thinking it below the dignity of their sex, but make the poor women do all 

 the drudgery. They have a blind tradition amongst them, that work was 

 first laid upon mankind by the fault of a female, and therefore it is but just 

 that sex should do the greatest part of it. This they plead in their excuse ; 

 but the true reason is, that the weakest must always go to the wall, and 

 superiority has from the beginning ungenerously imposed slavery on those 

 who are not able to resist it. 



October 1. I plunged once more into the river Irvin this morning, for a 

 small cold I had caught, and was entirely cured by it. We ran the three 

 mile course from a white oak standing on my corner upon the western bank 

 of the river, and intersected the place, where we ended the back line exactly, 

 and fixed that corner at a hickory. We steered south from thence about a 

 mile, and then came upon the Dan, which thereabouts makes but narrow 

 low-grounds. We forded it about a mile and a half to the westward of the 

 place where the Irvin runs into it. When we were over, we determined to 

 ride down the river on that side, and for three miles found the high-land 

 come close down to it, pretty barren and uneven. But then on a sudden 

 the scene changed, and we were surprised with an opening of large extent, 

 where the Sauro Indians once lived, who had been a considerable nation. 

 But the frequent inroads of the Senecas annoyed them incessantly, and 

 obliged them to remove from this fine situation about thirty years ago. They 

 then retired more southerly, as far as Pee Dee river, and incorporated with 

 the Kewawees, where a remnant of them is still surviving. It must have 

 been a great misfortune to them to be obliged to abandon so beautiful a 

 dwelling, where the air is wholesome, and the soil equal in fertility to any in 



