not daring to stand by trees, for fear of lightning.
It lasted near three hours, then cleared away.

After this dreadful storm was over, we renewed
our fire, which was almost extinguished by the rain,
lay down on the wet ground in our wet clothes,
contemplated the wondrous beauty of our spangled
canopy, and rested some, having rode forty miles
the preceding day.

Resumed our journey through a swampy,
dreary wilderness, for above twenty miles, inter-
spersed with some ridges of very rich land. Passed
over a fine stream for water works, where the water
pitches off a fine limestone rock, six or seven feet at
once. The banks are low and rich. Sometime after,
passed over about ten miles of plains, in which is a
curious spring, covering an acre and a half; the fall
from it is rapid; — the stream as large as Whiteclay
creek. Then passed through an Indian village, on
the flats of the Genessee river: which exceeds any
land I have seen for richness — the grass, pea vines,
and thistles, higher than a man's head, on horse-
back. Thousands of acres fit for mowing — of which
a great deal is cut, and makes excellent fodder, the
pods and peas contributing thereto. We forded the
river, now about as large as Brandywine. This
place is thirty miles south of Ontario. Lodged at
Berry's, on the bank of the river, having rode thir-
ty-five miles.

Here we were refreshed, refitted, and pre-
pared to pursue our journey. Here many Indians
resort — one old woman, supposed to exceed one
hundred years — I admired her gray head. She said
she was always kind and good, and always against