Saturday eve-2 miles from Laurel Hill-Penn-

We came but 9 or 10 miles to day, & are now near the 6^th Mountain- in a tavern fill'd with half drunken noisy waggoners— One of them lies singing directly before the fire; proposing just now to call for a song from the young ladies—— I can neither think nor write he makes so much noise with his love songs; I am every moment expecting something dreadful & dare not lay down my pen lest they should think me listening to them- They are the very worst wretches that ever liv'd, I do believe,—I am out of all patience with them- The whole world nor any thing in it, would tempt me to stay in this State three months- I dislike everything belonging to it—I am not so foolish as to suppose there are no better people in it than those we have seen; but let them be ever so good, I never desire to see any of them——We overtook an old waggoner whose waggon had got set in the mud, & I never heard a creature swear so- & whipt his horses till I thought they would die—I could not but wonder at the patience and forbearance of the Almighty, whose awful name was so blasphem'd— We also overtook a young Doctor-who is going with his father to Mad river in the state of Ohio—— He has been studying physic in New Jersey,- but appears to be an uneducated man from the language he makes use of——I believe both himself & his father are very clever- I heard them reproving a swearer— He dresses smart, & was so polite as to assist us in getting over the mud— Susan & I walk'd on before the waggon as usual, & he overtook us and invited us into the house & call'd for some brandy sling- we did not drink, which he appear'd not to like very well, & has scarcely spoken to us since—— He thinks himself a gentleman of the first chop, & takes the liberty of coining words for himself- Speaking of the people in this state, he said they were very ignorant & very superstitionary —perhaps you have heard the word before- I never did—

Sunday morn- We had good beds last night, contrary to my expectation,- and we are going on our journey this morning- It is extremely cold & very bad riding or walking- M^r W- has been so long detain'd by bad weather & riding, that he thinks himself justifiable in riding on the sabbath- I thought so some time ago—

Sunday noon- We are on the top of Laurel Hill, the 6^th mountain— We women & girls, have walk'd between 5 & 6 miles this morning— We left the waggons getting along very slowly, & came on to a house to warm us- It is a log hut & full of children, as is every one we come to— The wind whistles about us, & it looks very much like snow—— One waggon got set this morning, & hinder'd us this long time— The young Doctor & his father are still in company with us— The former, who has got over his pouting fit, leaves his father to drive,- while he walks on with the ladies- he is not with us just now— He has not conquer'd the antipathy I bear a young physician— or rather a young Doctor— How little it seems like the sabbath— I would not write if I could do any thing else— but I can not even think good thoughts——