“It is,” says Mr. Rittenhouse, “six long weeks since I have had the happiness of seeing you or hearing from you; and this is the first opportunity I have had of conveying a letter to you, since I left Wyoming. As I cannot hope to receive a line from you until we approach nearer to the habitable world, my next greatest pleasure is to inform you of the favourable state of my health: this pleasure is indeed damped in some degree, by my fears that you will not give full credit to what I say, though I mean to abide strictly by the truth. The head-ach has been unknown to me, almost ever since I left you; my cough, though much better, is not quite removed; and I have no other complaint, except, that which will never leave me in this world: this, however, far from being worse than usual, is certainly something less troublesome; which I attribute to my being more at liberty to use moderate exercise, and less exposed to summer heats than I should be at home. This seems to be a different climate from that you are in; the weather is constantly cool, but not cold. We are at present situated on a pleasant bank of the Susquehanna, about fifteen miles above the mouth of the Chenango, one of the principal branches of this river. From this place to Middletown in Lancaster county, is, by estimation, 270 miles along the river: much of the road is very bad, so that we had a tedious journey. “At Chenango, there are a few Indian families settled, amounting to forty souls. Some of these people frequently visit us, and bring us fish and venison; in return for which, they are very desirous to have flour or salted provisions: and we live in the greatest harmony with them. Five or six days ago, one of the Onondago Sachems with his family came up in three canoes, and encamped in the evening, just below us. Next morning, we received a message from them, requesting an audience for two young ladies of the family. To this, a proper answer was returned, (General Clinton having prudently brought an interpreter with him,) and at the time appointed they were introduced to us in our tent, unattended by any other Indians. After a draught of punch, and a decent silence, our visitors were told that we were ready to hear what they had to say. The eldest of the two, a fine girl of about twenty, and extremely well dressed, with a becoming modesty made a short speech; concluding with an handsome apology for acquitting herself no better, on account of her youth and sex. The purport of her speech was, that thinking it would not be disagreeable to us, they were come to spend a few days in our company: that they were poor, and in want of provisions, especially flour; and hoped we would furnish them with a small portion of our stores,—at least for present use, whilst they staid with us. We encouraged them to bring us fish and other fresh provision; in return for which, they should have salt meat and some bread. Business being