Dennis', on the old
road, distance twenty-seven miles, near the Juniata. Breakfasted at
Camel Town, a small village, one-half the houses taverns. Crossed the
dreary and lofty mountains at 4 o'clock. This is called Sideling hill,
where a Mr. McClennan was robbed on the 3d instant by the notorious
villain and robber, D. Lewis, lately pardoned by Gov. Finley for
forgery. McClennan had no arms, nor did he make the least resistance,
yet one of Lewis' accomplices insisted on murdering him. He was robbed
about 9 o'clock in the morning, and in sight of the house he breakfasted
at. He was conducted to their camp, a little way from the road,
threatened with death if he spoke. Although the stage passed full of
passengers and several wagons in sight, he dared not give the alarm.
After keeping him in a state of suspense for six hours and rifling his
letters and pockets of a large sum of money, they left him. On the 8th
instant they were taken at a little village fifty miles off, and a large
amount of cash found on them--$2,800. The hardihood of this Lewis
surpasses the boldness of most robbers of his day. When he and his two
companions were found asleep they were handcuffed. One of the guards
laid his pistol on the table, whilst Lewis was surrounded by twenty
persons, and in a room. He knocked out the candle, seized the pistol,
flashed at the nearest person, made his way through the crowd, outran
them for fifty yards, and, when about to be overtaken, snapped a small
pistol which he had concealed at his nearest pursuer. He knocked down
the second with his handcuffs, then fell and was retaken. The poverty,
barrenness, unevenness of this part of the country perhaps was never
surpassed. But few homes on the road. Met a number of travelers and
overtook some. About 4 o'clock it commenced raining. Unpleasant
traveling. Wet to the skin. Arrived at the crossing at dark on the old
road two miles from the turnpike. Tavern kept by Dennis. Bad house; high
charges. Rainy night.

Sunday, Oct. 10.--Left Dennis' 6 o'clock a. m. Breakfasted at a little
village called Bloody Run. Great many travelers. Poor country. Reached
Bedford at 2 o'clock. Whilst our horses were resting we walked to the
celebrated springs, a distance of one and a half miles.

These springs are romantically situated, gushing from the foot of a
mountain. They are fitted up with great taste and beauty and offer to
the wearied citizen a treat of retirement and enjoyment. Two of t