ndix a brief
sketch of the settlement of the Ohio Valley. To this Appendix, as a
preliminary reading, I invite those who may care to follow "Pilgrim"
and her crew upon their long journey from historic Redstone down to
the Father of Waters.

A selected list of Journals of previous travelers down the Ohio, has
been added, for the benefit of students of the social and economic
history of this important gateway to the continental interior.

R. G. T.

Madison, Wis., October, 1897.

AFLOAT ON THE OHIO

CHAPTER I.

On the Monongahela--The over-mountain path--Redstone Old
Fort--The Youghiogheny--Braddock's defeat.

In camp near Charleroi, Pa., Friday, May 4.--Pilgrim, built for the
glassy lakes and smooth-flowing rivers of Wisconsin, had suffered
unwonted indignities in her rough journey of a thousand miles in a
box-car. But beyond a leaky seam or two, which the Doctor had righted
with clouts and putty, and some ugly scratches which were only
paint-deep, she was in fair trim as she gracefully lay at the foot of
the Brownsville shipyard this morning and received her lading.

There were spectators in abundance. Brownsville, in the olden day, had
seen many an expedition set out from this spot for the grand tour of
the Ohio, but not in the personal recollection of any in this throng
of idlers, for the era of the flatboat and pirogue now belongs
to history. Our expedition is a revival, and therein lies
novelty. However, the historic spirit was not evident among our
visitors--railway men, coal miners loafing out the duration of a
strike, shipyard hands lying in wait for busier times, small boys
blessed with as much leisure as curiosity, and that wonder of wonders,
a bashful newspaper reporter. Their chief concern centered in the
query, how Pilgrim could hold that goodly heap of luggage and still
have room to spare for four passengers? It became evident that her
capacity is akin to that of the magician's bag.

"A dandy skiff, gents!" said the foreman of the shipyard, as we
settled into our seats--the Doctor bow, I stroke, with W---- and the
Boy in the stern sheets. Having in silence critically watched us for a
half hour, seated on a capstan, his red flannel shirt rolled up to his
elbows, and well-corded chest and throat bared to wind and weather,
this remark of the foreman was evidently the studied judgment of an
expert. It was taken as such by the good-natured crowd, which, as we
pushed off into